Chapter 3: Too close to Ignore
1056 Words
By the third day, I started to realize something dangerous.
Living with Ethan Blackwood was becoming… normal.
And that was a problem.
---
“Zara.”
I nearly dropped the stack of files in my hands at the sound of his voice behind me.
I turned quickly. “Yes—sir… I mean—”
His brow lifted slightly.
Right.
No “sir” at home.
But we weren’t at home.
We were in his office.
And yet somehow, everything still felt blurred.
“I need the revised contract on my desk in ten minutes,” he said, his tone cool and professional.
“Yes, sir,” I said quickly this time, not daring to correct myself again.
He held my gaze for a second longer than necessary, like he was trying to read something beneath my words. Then he simply nodded and turned away.
Just like that, the distance was back.
Cold. Clean. Safe.
But my heart didn’t get the memo.
---
The rest of the day passed in a blur of emails, meetings, and quiet tension.
I tried to focus on work, I really did.
But every now and then, my mind drifted.
To the way he had stood in the kitchen that morning, sleeves rolled up, pouring coffee like it was the most normal thing in the world.
To the way his voice sounded softer when it wasn’t directed at a room full of employees.
To the fact that I now knew what his home looked like.
What his life looked like… outside the office.
“Zara.”
Clara’s voice snapped me back to reality.
I looked up to find her standing beside my desk again, that same knowing look in her eyes.
“Yes?”
She leaned slightly closer. “You’ve been distracted lately.”
My fingers tightened around my pen. “I’ve just been busy.”
“Busy?” she repeated, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Or preoccupied?”
I forced a light laugh. “Is there a difference?”
“With you?” she said. “Yes.”
Something about her tone made my chest tighten.
She wasn’t just making conversation.
She was watching me.
Testing me.
“Well,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “if there’s something you need, you can just say it.”
Her smile widened, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Oh, I will,” she said softly.
Then she walked away.
I exhaled slowly, my shoulders stiff.
This was exactly what Ethan had warned me about.
And it was only getting worse.
---
That evening, I stayed late.
Partly because of work.
Mostly because I didn’t know how to face him again.
But eventually, there was no avoiding it.
By the time I got back to the penthouse, the city lights were already glowing through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting soft reflections across the polished floors.
I stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind me.
For a moment, I thought he wasn’t home.
Until I heard the sound of footsteps.
“You’re late.”
I turned to see him standing by the window, his tie loosened, his jacket discarded somewhere out of sight.
He looked… different.
Less controlled.
More human.
“I had work to finish,” I said, setting my bag down.
“You could have left it for tomorrow.”
“I didn’t want to fall behind.”
His gaze lingered on me.
“You’re avoiding something.”
My heart skipped.
“I’m not.”
“You are,” he said calmly. “You’ve been distant all day.”
I let out a small, nervous laugh. “We’re at work. I’m supposed to be distant.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
The room fell silent.
And suddenly, it felt smaller.
Too small.
I looked away first.
“There’s nothing going on,” I said quietly. “I’m just trying to keep things… normal.”
“Normal,” he repeated, like the word didn’t quite fit.
“How else is this supposed to be?” I asked, meeting his eyes again. “You’re my boss. I’m your employee. We just happen to be living under the same roof.”
“‘Just happen to be,’” he echoed, stepping closer.
My breath caught.
He stopped a few steps away, close enough that I could feel the shift in the air between us.
“Do you really believe it’s that simple?” he asked.
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t.
Not anymore.
---
“I think we need clearer boundaries,” I said finally, my voice quieter than I intended.
His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpened.
“Go on.”
“We should limit interaction outside of necessary situations,” I continued. “At home, I mean. Keep things… professional.”
Even as I said the words, they felt wrong.
Forced.
Like I was trying to convince myself more than him.
“And why is that?” he asked.
“Because this—” I gestured between us, “—it’s already complicated.”
A pause.
Then—
“You’re afraid.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
“I’m not afraid,” I said quickly.
“Then what are you feeling?”
I opened my mouth.
But nothing came out.
Because I didn’t know how to answer that.
Didn’t know how to explain the way my chest tightened whenever he was close.
Or the way my thoughts kept drifting back to him, no matter how hard I tried to focus.
Or the way this situation—this temporary arrangement—was starting to feel like something else entirely.
Something dangerous.
---
“I’ll keep my distance,” he said suddenly.
I blinked.
“What?”
“If that’s what you want,” he added, his voice returning to that calm, controlled tone. “Then I’ll respect it.”
Relief should have come.
But it didn’t.
Instead, something inside me sank.
“Good,” I said softly.
He nodded once.
Then turned away.
Just like that.
---
That night, the apartment felt colder.
Quieter.
Like something had shifted.
And as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling once again, I realized something I couldn’t ignore anymore.
Keeping my distance from Ethan Blackwood…
Might be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
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