Page 4 of Ethan: The Untouchable CEO

And on top of that, I’ve got a huge project on my hands—the governor’s wedding, of all things. Everything feels delayed or off-track. We’ve already changed the venues four times—four. His fiancée refuses anything too modern, too common, or too historical. Thankfully, she finally approved the fifth option. Now it’s on to the arrangements and the theme. The flowers have to be “unlike anything anyone has ever seen, something that leaves people talking for years.”

One day, when I have my own event planning company, I’ll choose my clients. Don’t get me wrong, I love creating unforgettable events. But I want them to mean something—purity, love, serenity, harmony. Not this endless chase for perfection that screams nothing but pretension and indifference.

I’ve barely stepped out of Theo’s house when my phone rings again. Ready to ignore it, assuming it’s the same person, I check the screen and see it’s him.

“Yes, love,” I answer with a smile.

He chuckles lightly, in that infuriatingly charming way that’s so him.

“Love, hmm. I like how that sounds,” he says. His laugh follows through the receiver, warm and teasing. “Friday we have to attend a charity gala. Please use my card and buy whatever you need.”

“Again?” I cut him off, half-laughing, half-groaning. ”This is the second one this month, Theo.”

”I can practically feel you rolling your eyes, love,” he replies, chuckling. “I know, but we’ll all be there, including Nick and Sierra.”

At the sound of my best friend’s name, I breathe a little easier.

By now, I’m already in the car—one of Theo’s gifts. I hadn’t wanted to accept it, but after he sent mine off to a junkyard, I didn’t have much of a choice. When I confronted him, he felt no remorse. He just shrugged and said he had already taken out everything he thought I might want to keep, and I could put it all in “my new car.”

I connect the phone to the Bluetooth and answer, “Perfect, I’ll call her right now to set up a shopping day.”

“I knew that would convince you. Spend as much as you want. I’ll see you tonight.”

And just like that, he hangs up.

On the drive, I call Sierra and Serena—both single at home, since Nick’s away for a road game. We decide on Thursday for a spa and shopping spree, then end the conversation with the promise that I’ll come over tonight so we can have dinner together.

“We need different flowers. The police commissioner had his wedding last year and used the same type,” announces Erika, my boss, as she strides into my office.

I lift my eyes from the tablet and sigh, letting the weight of her words sink in. To calm myself, I turn my gaze toward the wide window. The view always helps. Beyond the glass stretches the vast park in front of the building, alive with laughter and motion. Dozens of children run around, their parents scattered on benches or sprawled across picnic blankets, soaking in the warmth of the day.

Inside, however, everything feels still, orderly—just the way I’ve made it.

My office is my personal oasis of peace and creativity, a space that softens the chaos of deadlines and demanding clients. The walls are painted a soft ivory that reflects the daylight and makes the room feel more open. My desk, also white, is rarely bare; it’s usually cluttered with sketches, floor plans, glossy brochures, and, of course, my ever-present laptop and tablet. Behind me, the tall-backed swivel chair allows me to lean into short moments of rest whenever the pressure becomes too much.

To my right sits a bright orange couch, a pop of color against the otherwise neutral palette—perfect for brainstorming sessions or when Sierra and Serena drop by to keep me company. Across the room stands a tall cabinet with drawers and shelves crammed with fabric swatches, paper samples, ribbon rolls, and stacks of binders. Next to it, I’ve placed a slim glass display shelf, where I keep delicate centerpieces and miniature mock-ups from past events—little reminders of the magic I’ve created. A vase of fresh roses sits on the corner table, their subtle fragrance softening the stress that always seems to follow me into this place.

This office isn’t just where I work. It’s where I breathe. Where I remind myself why I do what I do.

“You know I had these flowers brought in all the way from Africa, right?” I ask, watching her as she walks in and takes a seat on one of the chairs in front of my desk.

“Yes, I know…” she replies, then falls silent, lost in thought.

It’s strange to see her like this, because she’s always one step ahead of our clients and their demands, always has a solution.

“Thalia, I’m sorry to leave you in this situation, but I have an important matter to deal with at home, so I’ll be away for a few weeks,” she tells me, her pleading eyes locking on mine. “You’ll be in charge, and Jessica will help you.”

At the mention of that name, my stomach twists, and my heart drops straight to the floor. My hands curl tightly around the edges of my desk, and for a moment I can’t breathe. I’ve managed to avoid her ever since that night at the club. I’ve overheard whispers in the kitchen and around the office about “what an incredible night she had” and how “she couldn’t wait for a repeat.”

I don’t understand my emotions and I thought keeping some distance would help me get over whatever this is.

“If everything is fine at home, I might come back sooner,” Erika continues, pulling me out of my thoughts. “But I can’t promise.”

What could I possibly say? That I already have too many projects on my plate? That this event is draining me completely? That the bride makes it her mission to criticize every single suggestion we bring forward? Of course not. She has an emergency, and I’m here to do my job—and I need to do it well.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I reassure her. “You know you can count on all of us.” I force a smile, as real as I can manage, while my mind runs straight back to a certain someone and to the things I desperately wish I could forget.

FOUR