Page 85 of Ethan: The Untouchable CEO

Now he’ll see it. The jealousy I’ve been trying so hard to bury.

Ethan: I’d ask if you’re jealous, but considering you were practically all over that guy at the bar when we were leaving, I think the answer’s obvious.

He saw me.

He saw… and didn’t care. Just walked away.

Didn’t even bother telling the others where I was.

Thalia: Why did you text, Ethan?

Ethan: You have the reason in my first message. Answer it, Thalia.

Thalia: It’s none of your business.

Ethan: I fucked you bare two nights ago. I think it is my business.

My jaw clenches, my chest constricting with a burning mix of anger and humiliation.

Thalia: If you have some disease, it’s definitely not from me. I should be the one getting tested after that night.

Ethan: Trust me, you’ve got nothing to worry about when it comes to me. You should worry about the guys you hook up with in clubs and other random places.

Thalia: Thanks for the advice. Given it’s coming from someone like you, I’ll make sure to take it seriously.

Ethan: Someone like me?

Thalia: Someone with a lot of experience in one-night stands.

Ethan: If I remember correctly, I’ve slept with you three times. So I guess that reputation doesn’t quite fit, does it?

Thalia: A huge mistake. On my part, not yours.

Ethan: Yeah, I noticed you corrected that mistake when you walked out on me two nights ago.

Thalia: I only did what you obviously wanted.

Ethan: Me? I said I was going to the bathroom and coming back.

Thalia: Right. Full of regret and frustration. I’m sure.

Ethan: Jesus, Thalia. You really love creating your own version of reality, don’t you?

Thalia: I just love not being treated like an object meant only for sex.

Ethan: And that guy at the bar tonight—did you think he wanted to build a family with you?

Thalia: I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe someone else will. Either way, I’ll find that someone.

Ethan: Great. Good luck with that.

I sit there, phone in hand, waiting.

Waiting for… what exactly? For a message… that doesn’t have to tell me he could be or he is that someone, but at least would suggest we try, see where this could go.

But that message never comes. And his intentions are clear.

It’s obvious now that I was just one of the many women who’ve passed through Ethan’s bed. And, like so many of them, I probably hoped—foolishly—that he would suddenly change, that he would give more.