Ava stood frozen in the doorway long after Ethan had set his suitcase down. He moved through the suite as if it belonged to him, shrugging off his jacket and draping it across the chair. His tie hung loose, the crisp white of his shirt stretching across his shoulders when he reached for the remote.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, switching on the news as though they hadn’t just been told there was only one room.
“I said I’d take the couch.” Ava set her bag down firmly beside it.
He looked over at her, one brow lifting. “That couch is barely big enough for a child. You’ll wake up with a stiff neck.”
“I’ll survive,” she muttered.
Ethan didn’t argue. He only watched her, silent in a way that unsettled her more than his words. The flicker of the television lit his profile, sharp and
