Chapter Two: The Man Behind the Headlines
894 Words
(Ethan’s POV)
Ethan Blackwood had learned to read rooms before they spoke.
The Meridian lobby spoke loudly.
Money. Influence. Expectation.
He adjusted the cuff of his watch as he walked toward the private elevator, already three conversations behind schedule in his head. His phone buzzed, the board member again, this time and irritation flared beneath the calm he wore like a second skin.
“Not now,” he muttered, silencing the call.
That was when she ran into him.
Literally.
The collision was minor. The reaction was not.
She dropped instantly, apology spilling from her mouth like she expected punishment.
“I’m so sorry—this is my fault—I wasn’t looking—”
Ethan blinked.
No one ever spoke to him like that.
Not assistants. Not investors. Not strangers who recognized his face and panicked.
He crouched without thinking. “It’s fine. You’re okay.”
She froze at the sound of his voice, then looked up—and recognition hit her like a wave.
“Oh.”
He almost smiled.
Now, minutes later, Ethan found himself standing inside the private elevator, replaying the encounter instead of reviewing financial projections.
That annoyed him.
He didn’t reply to strangers.
And yet—
She hadn’t flirted. Hadn’t asked for anything. Hadn’t lingered.
She’d been trying to leave.
“Interesting,” he murmured.
The elevator doors slid open to the penthouse floor.
His assistant, Mark, was already waiting.
“You’re late,” Mark said. “The Sterling Consult delivery arrived.”
Ethan paused. “Sterling Consult?”
“Yes. A young woman brought it. Quiet. Efficient.”
Ethan’s brow lifted slightly. “Where is she?”
“She said she’d wait in the lobby.”
“She didn’t need to,” Ethan replied automatically—then frowned at himself.
Why did that matter?
Still, he said, “I’ll review the documents later. Clear my schedule for thirty minutes.”
Mark hesitated. “Sir—”
“Thirty,” Ethan repeated.
Mark nodded and left.
Ethan stared at the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands clasped behind his back.
He wasn’t used to being unsettled by something so small.
Or someone so ordinary.
Back downstairs, Lara stood near the reception desk, clutching her bag like it was an anchor.
She almost jumped when she heard her name.
“Lara Adeyemi.”
She turned.
Ethan Blackwood stood a few steps away, jacket now off, sleeves rolled to his forearms. Less distant. More dangerous.
“Yes?” she asked cautiously.
“Come upstairs,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “I—I already delivered the documents.”
“I know,” he replied calmly. “This isn’t about that.”
She hesitated.
“I won’t keep you long,” he added. “You have my word.”
She studied his face, searching for arrogance, entitlement, anything that would justify refusing.
She found none.
“Okay,” she said quietly.
Inside the elevator, silence wrapped around them.
“You don’t seem impressed,” Ethan observed.
She glanced at him. “Should I be?”
He smiled then—sharp, amused. “Most people are.”
“I’m grateful,” she corrected. “Not impressed.”
He turned toward her fully now. “There’s a difference?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Impressed people want something.”
“And you don’t?”
She met his gaze steadily. “I want to go home on time.”
That did it.
He laughed softly, genuine, surprised by himself.
Upstairs, Ethan poured himself a glass of water, then paused.
“Would you like something?”
“No, thank you.”
“You didn’t hesitate,” he noted.
“About the drink?”
“About being here.”
She folded her hands in front of her. “I don’t have the luxury of assuming the worst at every opportunity.”
Something tightened in his chest.
“How long have you worked at Sterling?” he asked.
“Two years.”
“And before that?”
“Internships. Contract roles. Anything I could get.”
He nodded slowly. “You’re qualified.”
She smiled faintly. “I’m persistent.”
He liked that answer more than he should have.
“You handled yourself well earlier,” he said. “Most people panic.”
“I panicked internally,” she admitted. “I just didn’t want to embarrass myself.”
He studied her carefully now not her clothes, not her posture, but the way she chose her words.
“You’re smarter than your position suggests,” he said.
Her jaw tightened, not offended, but guarded.
“Positions don’t always reflect capability,” she replied.
“No,” he agreed quietly. “They don’t.”
When she finally stood to leave, Ethan surprised himself again.
“Lara.”
She turned.
“If an opportunity came along, one that paid better, offered growth, would you consider it?”
Her heart beat faster, but she kept her voice steady. “I would consider anything honest.”
He nodded.
“That’s good,” he said. “Because I don’t waste time on dishonesty.”
Their eyes held for a moment longer than necessary.
Then she smiled politely and walked away.
Ethan stood alone long after she was gone.
For the first time in years, the headlines felt unbearably loud.
And the silence she left behind—
Even louder.
- Writer
