Chapter 7 He’s got a certain charm about him
1338 Words
The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the Clark family estate, casting a golden glow on the expansive breakfast room. The faint aroma of coffee and freshly baked bread wafted through the air as Linda Williams, Ethan Clark’s mother, moved gracefully around the table, ensuring everything was perfect.
“Morning, Mom and Dad,” Ethan greeted as he descended the wide staircase, adjusting his suit collar with practiced ease. His tousled dark hair and relaxed demeanor carried an air of effortless charm.
Trailing behind him, Emma Thomas appeared, looking composed but carrying an air of quiet defiance. She wore a simple blouse and jeans that emphasized her natural beauty—her guarded eyes hinting at her inner turmoil.
“Emma, how did you sleep?” Linda asked warmly, handing her a cup of coffee.
“Well enough, thank you,” Emma replied, accepting the cup and setting it on the table as she took her seat.
“Good, good. Finish your breakfast quickly,” Linda continued. “You two should head out soon. I’ve packed some gifts for the family. They’re already in the car.”
Ethan glanced at Emma, noticing the tension in her shoulders as she quietly nibbled on a piece of toast. “Mom, we’re just dropping her off for now. Emma hasn’t graduated yet,” he explained casually, though his tone hinted at the meticulous planning he’d already put into their arrangement. “I’ll bring her back in June when her studies are done.”
Linda waved a hand dismissively. “Figure it out between yourselves. I’m done here.” She stood, wiping her hands on a napkin, and left the room.
Samuel Clark, Ethan’s father, rose from his seat as well. “Make sure you drive safely,” he muttered, his voice carrying a note of finality before heading toward the backyard.
The remaining moments were filled with an awkward silence as Ethan and Emma finished their breakfast. Finally, Ethan stood, gesturing toward the door. “Ready?”
Emma hesitated briefly, then nodded, following him outside.
“Morning, Ethan. Morning, Miss Emma,” Uncle Lee, the Clark family’s longtime chauffeur, greeted warmly as they approached the sleek black car parked in the driveway.
“Uncle Lee, could I have the keys?” Ethan asked, extending his hand.
“You’re driving?” Uncle Lee asked, surprised.
“I’ll be staying there for a few days,” Ethan replied, his tone matter-of-fact as he accepted the keys and opened the passenger door for Emma. “After you,” he said with a small smirk.
Emma hesitated, glancing at him with suspicion. “You’re staying at my place tonight?”
“Yep,” Ethan said curtly, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Appearances, remember?”
Emma exhaled, resigned, and climbed in.
Three hours later, the car pulled up in front of the Thomas family home, a modest but well-maintained house that stood in stark contrast to the grandeur of the Clark estate. Ethan turned off the engine and glanced at Emma. “We’re here.”
Emma reached for the door handle, but Ethan’s hand shot out, stopping her. “Wait,” he said, getting out of the car first. He walked around to her side, opened her door, and offered his hand.
“What are you doing? Let go,” Emma hissed, pulling away.
Ethan leaned down, his voice low and firm. “Remember what we agreed on. To everyone here, we’re a happily married couple. Don’t make me remind you why appearances matter.”
Emma froze, her jaw tightening. He was right. If her family suspected the truth, the fragile balance of her situation could crumble. Reluctantly, she took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet.
As they approached the front door, Emma’s younger sister, Ava, peeked out, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, sis! Hey, bro-in-law! You two look cozy,” she teased, noticing their interlocked fingers.
Emma shot her a glare, but before she could respond, Oliver Thomas and his wife, Samantha, descended the staircase, smiles plastered across their faces.
“Welcome home,” Oliver said warmly. “Come in, come in.”
“Linda, grab the gifts from the car,” Ethan called to the housekeeper as they entered the living room. He led Emma to the couch, guiding her with a hand on her back.
Samantha disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the group alone. Oliver settled into an armchair, his expression shifting to one of mild unease as Ethan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Mr. Thomas, I’d like to discuss the Clark Group’s Woodsville branch,” Ethan began smoothly.
Oliver blinked. “Oh? What about it?”
“We need your assistance. I’ve heard that Zhang Feng is a well-connected investment director here. Could you arrange a meeting?”
Oliver hesitated. “I could, but—”
“There’s no need to worry about finances,” Ethan interrupted, his tone cool and confident. “I’ve already transferred $30 million to the Thomas Group’s account. That should resolve your immediate concerns.”
Oliver’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’ve... already transferred it?”
“Yes. Feel free to confirm with your finance team,” Ethan said, sipping the tea that had just been brought in.
Oliver stood abruptly, a mixture of relief and awe on his face. “I’ll make the arrangements immediately,” he said, excusing himself to the study.
Emma’s chest tightened. The weight of what that $30 million truly represented sank in—it was the price of her freedom, traded away in a contract she had little say in. Her father’s gratitude made her stomach churn.
She leaned closer to Ethan, her voice a sharp whisper. “When is this going to end?”
Ethan turned his head slightly, smirking at her. “When the time is right.”
Emma’s eyes narrowed, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You always say that. What’s your plan?”
Instead of answering, Ethan leaned back, his gaze locking onto hers with an unsettling intensity. “You’re awfully tense, Mrs. Clark,” he teased. “If you keep frowning like that, I might just have to kiss you.”
Emma felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she quickly stood, putting distance between them. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, heading toward the staircase.
In the sanctuary of her old bedroom, Emma leaned against the door, trying to collect her thoughts. She reached for the drawer of her desk, pulling out a faded photograph of her and her mother. Staring at her mother’s warm smile, Emma felt a pang of longing.
A soft knock broke her reverie. “Come in,” she said, slipping the photo back into the drawer.
Ethan entered, his presence filling the small room. “What are you doing up here?” she asked, trying to mask her surprise.
“I’m tired from the drive,” he said, eyeing the bed. “I’ll take a nap here.”
Emma blinked. “Why not use the guest room?”
Ethan shrugged. “We’re married, remember? What would your family think if I slept in another room?”
Emma’s eyes narrowed. “You’re really committed to this charade.”
“It’s your charade too,” Ethan reminded her. He took off his jacket and stretched out on the bed, completely at ease. “I’ll just be here for an hour or so.”
Shaking her head, Emma grabbed a blanket and tossed it at him. “Fine. Just don’t make yourself too comfortable.”
As she turned to leave, Ethan’s voice stopped her. “Emma.”
She glanced over her shoulder.
“You’ll thank me when this is all over,” he said, his tone soft but assured.
Emma didn’t reply. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it, her thoughts swirling. Despite her frustration, she couldn’t deny that Ethan had a certain charm—a charm that made it all the more dangerous to let her guard down.
- Writer
