Chapter 10
1119 Words
Ethan Lyric wasn’t supposed to be nervous.
He was the heir to Lyric Industries. An alpha. A man who handled corporate battles, council politics, and an uncle determined to snatch everything from him. Yet the moment he stepped out of his office and walked toward the administrative floor, his heartbeat thudded louder than he expected.
All because of a message.
Sir, I need your approval on something important.
Most people would have worded it differently—longer, fussier, overly formal. But Amelia Hayes always seemed to choose the simplest words… and somehow make them echo inside him long after he read them.
When he reached the hallway outside her workspace, he paused. It was ridiculous, how many seconds he wasted trying to “compose himself.” Daniel’s voice floated through his mind—Try not to act like a lovesick alpha—and Ethan almost turned back just to avoid proving him right.
But then he heard her voice.
Soft. Steady. Familiar now.
“…yes, I’ll send the files by noon… No, the chairman already approved page five…”
Ethan felt something ease inside him. Amelia wasn’t trying to impress anyone, or pretend, or perform. She was simply doing her job—effortlessly, efficiently—and he found himself more drawn to that than he expected.
When she ended her call, Ethan stepped forward.
“Amelia.”
She looked up sharply—and her eyes widened in surprise before settling into a polite calm.
“Sir—oh, good morning. I wasn’t expecting you to come down here.”
“Your message said it was important.”
Her cheeks warmed slightly, though she masked it with professionalism. “Right. Yes. I actually need clarification on one of the contracts you asked me to reorganize for the Silvercrest suppliers. There’s a clause that contradicts the main agreement.”
“Show me,” Ethan said, moving closer.
She shifted aside to make space for him at her desk. It was a small movement, but Ethan noticed again how careful she always was—never too loud, never too demanding, never trying to stand out. But she did anyway.
He leaned slightly over her shoulder to look at the document—the fresh paper scent mixing with the softer scent of her perfume. He forced himself to focus, deliberately keeping a safe distance.
“This clause,” Amelia said, pointing at a highlighted line, “says the delivery window is two weeks. But the main contract requires three. If the supplier follows this, they’ll technically violate the agreement and your uncle could—”
Ethan stiffened. “Use it against the company.”
“Yes,” she finished quietly.
He hadn’t even thought she would notice such a detail, but here she was—catching the one loophole Marcus would’ve exploited instantly.
“You did well noticing this,” Ethan said, turning to her. “Very well.”
Her breath caught the slightest bit. “Thank you, sir.”
“Ethan,” he corrected without thinking.
She blinked. “Sir?”
“You can call me Ethan,” he repeated, softer now. “At least when it’s just us.”
A quiet pause stretched between them.
Not tense—just… aware.
Amelia looked away, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to overstep.”
“You’re not overstepping.”
Another pause.
Something warm.
Something dangerous.
Amelia cleared her throat gently. “Should I correct the contract now?”
“Yes,” Ethan said immediately—too quickly. He slowed himself. “Yes. And send it back for final approval.”
She nodded, tapping at her keyboard.
Ethan didn’t leave.
He told himself he was waiting in case she needed anything else, but the truth was simpler:
He didn’t want to walk away from her yet.
Her focus, the tiny crease between her brows when she typed, the way she double-checked every line—he found himself watching in a way he shouldn’t.
“Ethan?” she asked without looking up.
He straightened. “Yes?”
“You’re… standing there,” she said gently. “Is something wrong?”
“No.”
Too fast again.
She finally turned fully toward him. “You seem… stressed.”
He wasn’t used to anyone noticing.
“No. I’m fine,” he said automatically.
“You don’t look fine.”
Her tone wasn’t pushy—it was concerned, almost careful. Like she was afraid to ask but asked anyway. Ethan swallowed, realizing how rare that was in his world.
“It’s the Council,” he said, offering her half the truth. “And my uncle. They’re both moving in ways that make everything…” He searched for a non-threatening word. “…complicated.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
It shouldn’t have mattered. A simple apology should not have affected him.
But it did.
Because she meant it.
Truly.
“Thank you,” Ethan murmured.
She looked up at him again—those calm, steady eyes meeting his in a way that made his heart tighten.
He wasn’t imagining it.
There was something between them.
A pull.
A quiet closeness he couldn’t explain away anymore.
But before anything could deepen, a sudden voice cut in sharply.
“Miss Hayes.”
Both of them turned.
Lila Morgan stood in the doorway, holding a folder.
If Ethan didn’t know better, he would’ve sworn she looked… curious. Suspicious, even.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Lila said smoothly. “But Miss Hayes is needed in downstairs logistics.”
Ethan’s jaw flexed. “I was reviewing something with her.”
“Of course,” Lila replied. “I can wait.”
Amelia stood gently. “It’s fine. I’m done here.”
She handed Ethan the corrected document. Their fingers brushed lightly—barely a touch—but it sent a quick shock through him.
“Thank you, sir—Ethan,” she corrected herself softly.
Lila’s brows lifted at the correction.
Amelia stepped past them, leaving a faint silence behind her as she walked down the hallway.
Ethan watched her go.
Lila watched him watch her.
After a moment, she said quietly, “You’re letting her get close.”
Ethan didn’t look away from the hallway. “She’s doing her job.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He finally turned his gaze to her—sharp, controlled.
“Then you should stop implying things that are not your concern.”
Lila inclined her head, but her voice held warning.
“The Council won’t ignore this. And neither will your uncle.”
Ethan said nothing.
Because deep down, he already knew:
He couldn’t keep his distance anymore.
And he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
- Writer
