CHAPTER THREE
1151 Words
The Avalon Foundation’s annual gala was the kind of event where you wanted to dress your best. The magnates of the city were all in attendance, accompanied by their spouses and professional escorts.
Maya’s contact had pulled through with the invitation. Harper wasn’t supposed to be here as a journalist — she was here as a guest.” And she intended to blend in long enough to watch Ethan Blackwell in his natural habitat.
She spotted him within minutes.
He stood near the far end of the ballroom, talking to a senator and a Fortune 500 CEO. “That tuxedo must be worth a thousand grand or more,” Harper muttered, sizing him up. He had that same unreadable expression she’d seen in his office. His presence was palpable in any room he entered. Single ladies were already flocking around him and the evening was still young.
She took a glass of wine and found her way through the crowd, carefully trying to avoid the billionaire. She told herself she was here to observe.
“Miss Quinn.”
The voice called her from behind. She turned to find him there, with a whisky in his hand and a certain smirk on his face. “One more step and I'd have bumped into him. Why is he so close to me?” Harper thought.
“Mr. Blackwell,” she said, extending her hands to shake his. “Enjoying the party?”
“That depends. Are you here to interview me again?” His eyes scanned her, but this was different from the look he gave at the interview. “Or just to admire the view?”
“I could ask you the same,” she said, lifting her chin.
He paused and smiled at her. “You clean up well. Almost didn’t recognize you without the notepad.”
“And you look exactly like a man who knows everyone here is watching him,” she said, taking a sip of her wine.
He chuckled. “You’re the only one I’m watching tonight.”
Her heart skipped a beat and she felt a flush rise to her cheeks. She hated that it did. “Careful, Blackwell. That sounds too close to flattery.”
“Flattery implies exaggeration,” he said. “I don’t exaggerate, Miss Quinn. The look in his eyes made Harper feel weak in the knees. He was staring at her intently. It should’ve annoyed her. Instead, she felt heat creep up her neck.
They spoke about each other’s jobs the rest of the evening. Ethan kept up the front and didn’t entertain personal questions. He introduced her to people she’d only seen on magazine covers. He held her waist as he led her through the crowds.
As the night wound down, Ethan leaned in, so close that his lips brushed her ears. “Miss Quinn, come home with me tonight.” Harper could feel the warmth of his breath cuddling her ears. She jerked. “Urmm.. I don’t think so, Mr. Blackwell. I have an early meeting with my editor tomorrow. I think I'll call it a night. And…thank you for the warm reception.” She packed up her purse and was about to leave, when he called out. “Ok, then let me drop you off. It’s rude to say no twice, you know.” “In whose books?” she asked, smiling. “Mine. In my books, Miss Quinn. So what do you say?” Harper knew deep down that she wanted to spend more time with Ethan. She hadn’t gotten any leads all night, at least, that’s what she told herself. “Alright, Mr. Blackwell. Just this once, you can take me home.”
The ride in his car was quiet at first, the city’s lights blurring past the tinted windows. She tried to think of something clever to break the tension, but her mind kept circling back to the fact that they were alone.
“You’re thinking too much,” Ethan said suddenly.
“Am I?” Harper asked.
“You’re wondering what it would be like to stop.”
The air between them tightened. She turned to face him, ready to deny it, but he was already leaning in, close enough that she could pick his cologne scent. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he said.
She didn’t.
Harper’s house was quite far away from the main city. But it still had its own buzz. “This is me,” she called out, as Ethan pulled up at her house. “Nice environment, and an even nicer house. Would love to see what it looks like on the inside,” Ethan smirked. “Mr. Blackwell, I don’t think that’s appropriate,” Harper replied, blushing and trying her best to hide it at the same time. “It’s just one cup of decaf and I’m gone,” he assured her. “Alright then, you can come in.”
Harper unlocked the door and the creaking sound carried through the hallway. It was pitch black inside. Before Harper could find the light switch, Ethan grabbed her and pinned her to the wall. Before she could say another word, his mouth was on hers. He started softly, focusing on her bottom lip with his hand on her neck. Then it deepened, his hand sliding into her hair, and the other anchoring her against him. She pushed him away as it became intense. “Ethan. Stop,” she said, in a tone that definitely didn’t want him to. “Do you really want me to stop?” he asked, still kissing her neck. “I would totally stop if you don’t want this.” Somewhere in between all the tension, she found herself forgetting all about her story, her editor. All she knew was that she had never felt this good before. Ethan hoisted her from the floor, her body fitting against his as her legs curled around his waist. Moments later, she was on the couch beneath him.
At the end of the night, they were entangled in each other’s arms, deep in sleep.
The next morning, Harper woke up to find a note on the nightstand: Thanks for the company.
“What?!” she exclaimed. “He left without a word, and had the guts to leave me such a distasteful note? Who does he think I am? One of his escorts?” Harper was fuming and pacing the ground. She wanted to call him and pour out her frustrations but she felt embarrassed. “What were you thinking, Harper?!” she snapped, slapping her head in disgust. “You let yourself get used. Where’s your professionalism?” The only thing on her mind was how she was going to face Simon at work. “That’s it! I’m done for. I might as well just start looking for a new job,” she said, sinking into bed.
- Writer
