Ruined Masterpiece

Cracks in the ice

"You’ve been avoiding me."

The accusation landed before Ariel even stepped into the office. Ethan’s voice, smooth yet edged with steel, rolled across the space like thunder waiting to break.

“Huh….”that was all she could mutter after hearing him say that.

“You heard me”

Ariel froze in the doorway, clutching the stack of reports against her chest. The room felt colder than usual, though the sun spilled through the glass walls, gilding the polished floor in gold. Ethan sat behind his desk, jacket off, tie loosened, his gray eyes fixed on her like a hawk circling prey.

"I haven’t," she said, though her voice betrayed her.

One dark brow lifted. "Don’t lie. I can smell it on you."

Her fingers tightened on the papers.

"After last night, I thought maybe I should give you…space."

His mouth twitched, humorless.

"Space? You think I need space?"

"You nearly bit my head off for walking into your office," she shot back, surprising herself with the sharpness in her tone.

"Forgive me if I don’t feel like poking the bear again."

Silence. His stare burned into her until her pulse raced in her throat. Then, slowly, Ethan rose.

Each movement was deliberate, as if every step toward her was calculated to dismantle her defenses. He stopped close enough that the air between them thickened, heavy with cedar and steel.

"You saw something you weren’t supposed to," he said quietly. "That makes you dangerous."

Her breath caught. "Dangerous?"

"Knowledge is a weapon," Ethan murmured.

"And in the wrong hands, it kills."

Her grip on the papers faltered. "I don’t….Ethan, I don’t care about your sketches. I wasn’t planning to…to use it against you."

She was beginning to shake from the words he spoke.

Her mind wandered far as she thought of his statement, does that mean he's going to kill her?

The corners of his mouth curved, not quite a smile…more a sharp c***k in ice.

"Everyone cares, Ariel. They just wait for the right moment to trade your secrets for their gain."

She shook her head, heart pounding.

"Not me. I’m not everyone."

Something flickered in his eyes,was it doubt or hope? But it vanished as quickly as it came.

He leaned closer, his voice a whisper that seemed to scrape her bones. "We’ll see."

The rest of the day dragged under his shadow. Ariel tried to focus on spreadsheets, call logs, the endless stream of cold efficiency this office demanded, but her mind wouldn’t let go of the image of Ethan hunched over that sketchbook, lines raw with unspoken grief.

Why would a man like him draw? Why hide it? Why react with such venom when she stumbled across it?

Her thoughts tangled until her hands trembled, and she nearly spilled coffee across a client’s contract.

"Careless again," Ethan’s voice cut through, startling her. He was suddenly beside her desk, his gaze sharp.

"Do you know what happens to careless people in this world?"

Her lips pressed tight. "They get crushed. You’ve already made that clear."

His expression didn’t change, but something in his jaw ticked. He crouched slightly, eye level with her, so close she could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the tiny scar near his temple.

"You think I’m cruel," he said, softer now.

"But cruelty builds armor. Without it, you bleed. And bleeding men don’t last long in my family."

The words hung between them, heavier than any reprimand.

Ariel swallowed. "That sounds…lonely."

For the first time, his gaze faltered. Just slightly. As if her words had slipped past armor he didn’t know had cracks.

Then his mask slammed back in place. He stood, brisk, unreadable. "Get the Prescott file ready for tonight’s dinner. Seven sharp."

She nodded, but her pulse didn’t calm.

At The Dinner

The restaurant glittered with crystal chandeliers and hushed conversations, every table a display of wealth and status. Ariel sat slightly behind Ethan, clutching her notes, trying to ignore the cloying scent of perfume and truffle oil.

Prescott, a broad-shouldered man with a booming laugh, dominated the table. His wife dripped diamonds like raindrops, her smile sharp as glass.

Ethan played his role perfectly…cool, commanding, untouchable. Ariel took notes, eyes darting to him when his jaw tightened at Prescott’s jokes, when his gaze flicked briefly, almost unconsciously, toward her.

And then it happened.

Prescott leaned back, wine swirling in his glass. "Your assistant’s quite the decoration, Blackwood. Fresh and unspoiled. Where did you find her?"

Heat crawled up Ariel’s neck. Ethan’s eyes turned to ice.

"She’s not for decoration," Ethan said, voice clipped.

Prescott smirked. "Then maybe for other purposes?" His hand brushed Ariel’s chair.

Before she could recoil, Ethan’s hand slammed down on the table. Crystal rattled. The restaurant went quiet.

"Touch her again," Ethan said, voice low, lethal, "and you won’t leave this room intact."

The silence roared louder than any threat. Prescott blinked, then barked a laugh, waving his hand.

"Joking, joking. No need to sharpen your claws, Blackwood."

He knew how deadly Ethan's bite was.

But Ariel saw the truth in Ethan’s rigid shoulders, the storm churning beneath his calm.

When the dinner ended, Ethan stalked out without a word. Ariel rushed to keep up, heels clicking against marble.

"Ethan, wait…"

He spun, pinning her with a glare under the awning of the night. The city lights haloed him, sharp and cruel.

"You think this is a game?" he demanded. "Men like Prescott see women like you as disposable. A toy. A means to an end."

Her chest burned. "And what about you? You dragged me into your world, remember? You put the leash on me, not Prescott."

The air between them crackled. His jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides.

"You have no idea," he said, voice low, raw, "what it costs me to keep you here. To keep you safe."

Safe? The word lodged in her chest, confusing and dangerous.

"Ethan…"

But he turned away, cutting her off. "Go home, Ariel. Before I forget why I spared you in the first place."

Why had he even spared her in the first place?.

How did they both get here..?

That night, unable to sleep, Ariel tossed in her small apartment. Ethan’s words looped in her mind. “Keep you safe. Cost me.”

Her phone buzzed. A message. No name, just a number.

You don’t know the truth about him.

Ariel froze.

Another message followed.

Ask him what really happened to his father.

Her breath caught, icy dread curling in her stomach. She stared at the screen, heart hammering.

Who would send this? And why now?

How did she get so involved in

Ethan's world for her to get this kind of message?

Outside her window, the city hummed, endless and indifferent.

Inside, Ariel’s world tilted on its axis.