Chapter 9
648 Words
The sharp, mechanical ringing of the phone sliced through the heavy romance of the room like a bucket of ice water.
I stiffened beneath Ethan, my eyes wide as the flashing white light from the desk phone illuminated the library in rhythmic pulses. Ethan froze, his forehead resting against mine, his chest rising and falling in sharp, frustrated breaths. He didn't move to answer it. He stayed pinned over me, his jaw clenched tightly, his eyes dark with an anger that had nothing to do with corporate business.
"Ignore it," he growled softly, his fingers tangling deeper into my hair.
"Ethan, it's the emergency landline," I whispered, my voice trembling as the reality of our situation began to crash back over me. "No one calls that number unless it's urgent. It has to be our parents. What if something happened to their flight?"
The mention of our parents was like a physical blow. The thick, intoxicating spell that had bound us together in the dark kitchen and on the sofa began to evaporate, leaving behind the cold, sharp truth of what we were doing.
With a low, bitter curse, Ethan pushed himself up and off me.
The sudden loss of his warmth made me shiver. I quickly sat up, pulling my gray cardigan tightly around my body and smoothing down my pajama shorts, my face burning with a mixture of desire and intense guilt.
Ethan strode across the library, the flashing light of the phone casting long, ominous shadows of his broad, bare torso against the bookshelves. He snatched the receiver off the cradle.
"Kingston," he barked into the line, his voice instantly reverting to that cold, unyielding executive tone.
I watched him from the sofa, my hands gripping the leather cushions. I couldn't hear the voice on the other end, but I watched as the rigid posture of Ethan's back suddenly locked into complete stillness. The muscles in his shoulders tightened, and his grip on the phone turned his knuckles entirely white.
"When?" Ethan asked, his voice dropping into a dangerously quiet register.
A long pause followed. The storm outside seemed to grow louder, the wind howling against the leaded-glass windows as if mocking us.
"No, don't call back," Ethan said coldly. "We'll be waiting. Goodbye."
He set the receiver back down on the cradle. The flashing white light died, plunging the library back into the shadows, save for the faint silver glow of the lightning from the windows. Ethan didn't turn back around immediately. He stood by the desk, his head bowed, his hands resting on the dark mahogany wood.
"Ethan?" I called out, my voice small and terrified of the silence. "What is it? Is my mother okay? Is Richard?"
Slowly, Ethan turned around. In the faint, stormy light, his face looked completely blank, a mask of absolute, chilling control that terrified me more than his anger ever could.
"They're fine," Ethan said quietly, his voice devoid of any emotion. "The Aspen airport was grounded due to the weather. Their flight was diverted back to JFK. They just landed."
My heart plummeted into my stomach. "They're coming back? Tonight?"
"They're in a town car right now," Ethan replied, taking a slow step toward the sofa, though he stopped several feet away, creating a massive, freezing chasm between us. "They'll be here in forty-five minutes, and that's not all."
I swallowed the hard lump in my throat, staring up at him. "What else did they say?"
Ethan locked his slate-grey eyes onto mine, and for the first time, I saw a flash of pure, agonizing despair c***k through his perfect corporate mask.
"My father called to tell us to prepare the house," Ethan whispered, the words sounding like a death sentence. "They aren't just coming home early, Aurora.
They're coming home because my mother had to be taken to a clinic in Aspen. She's pregnant.”
- Writer
