Page 152 of Ethan: The Untouchable CEO

Please. Please.

Take the answer and move on.

“You mean organizing four or five events at the same time—huge ones—is nothing special?” Sierra cuts in beside me.

I groan under my breath, dragging a hand down my face before turning toward her.

“Sierra,” I say, forcing a tight smile, “sometimes I really, really wish you’d stop talking.”

She bursts into laughter, and the rest follow immediately.

“We’re proud of you, Thalia,” John says warmly. “And we know you’re doing an incredible job.”

“Thank you,” I reply, emotion in my voice.

John and Matthew are both incredibly successful, the kind of men who command respect without even trying—and yet, with family, they’re always open, always warm.

Their approval lands deeper than I expected.

I lift my gaze toward John, and instead, I collide with a different version of Ethan.

The same eyes.

The same structure of his face.

The same intensity—only older. More grounded. More settled.

I draw in a slow breath, forcing myself back into control.

You cannot react like this every single time Ethan’s in the room.

Get a grip, Thalia.

FIFTY

Ethan

“Can I choose who to pass the ice cube to?” Thalia asks, dead serious.

“I think it has to be the person on your left,” Noah replies.

We’re all sitting on the floor in the living room, playing some ridiculous game Sierra brought. Why do I call it ridiculous? Because you either complete the stupidest dares imaginable or answer the most absurd questions ever written.

We’re alone, our parents retreated upstairs to “watch over” Serena, who is sleeping peacefully and doesn’t need any watching at all.

Thalia was gone for a while to help our moms clear the table, so this is her first round. The card she pulled says she has to pass an ice cube to someone, from mouth to mouth, or take a shot.

On her right is Nick, on her left is Zayn, and she has to pass it to the person on her left—Zayn.

“Okay,” she replies without a hint of hesitation.

Then she reaches into Zayn’s glass, picks up an ice cube between two fingers, and holds it between her teeth.

My gaze drops there without permission—follows the slow press of her lips around it, the way her breath stills for half a second before she moves.

I shouldn’t be paying attention to that. But I do.

She places her hands on Zayn’s shoulder for balance and leans toward him.