Chapter 8. The proposal

Ethan… get a grip.

But the thought came too late.

Because whatever this was

It wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

Ethan glanced at her more than once during the drive, his eyes lingering just a second longer each time before he forced them away.

Emily noticed.

She just didn’t mention it.

The restaurant was nothing like the gala.

It was quieter. More intimate. Exclusive in a way that didn’t need to prove itself.

Soft lighting. Elegant tables. The kind of place where conversations mattered more than appearances.

As they were seated, Ethan finally spoke, his gaze flicking over her again.

“I see you’re trying to impress me tonight.”

Emily raised a brow, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

“Blame the gown.”

“I asked Claire to pick something out for you,” he said casually. “She did a good job.”

Emily turned, brows pulling together slightly. “Claire?” A small pause then a faint scoff. “No. Not Claire.”

Ethan frowned, confused.

“This?” she gestured subtly to her outfit, her chin lifting just a little. “It’s mine. I designed it.”

That got his full attention.

“I sketched it months ago,” she continued, her voice steady but edged with quiet pride. “Back when I had too much time on my hands… running and hiding from Jason.” She shrugged lightly. “Finally decided to bring it to life.”

Ethan blinked, properly looking at her now not just seeing, but studying.

“You designed this?” he asked, slower this time.

“Yes.”

A brief silence followed.

Then he let out a low, impressed breath. “Wow…”

His eyes didn’t leave her. “You sketched it, sourced it, put it together yourself?”

Emily gave a small nod. “I don’t claim what I can’t do.”

Ethan leaned back slightly, something shifting in his expression something more genuine.

“That’s impressive,” he admitted. “Now that’s a woman who knows what she’s doing.”

Emily didn’t respond, but her fingers tightened slightly in her lap.

He tilted his head, still watching her. “You’re different, Emily.”

That made her glance at him again brief, cautious.

“I’m not saying that to flatter you,” he continued. “I meet women every day. Most of them…” he shrugged faintly, “they want me because I’m a CEO. Conversations don’t go far beyond that.”

His voice lowered slightly, more thoughtful now.

“But you?” he let out a small breath. “You push back. You don’t care about impressing me. Half the time, you don’t even look like you want to be around me.”

A faint smirk touched his lips.

“And I like that.”

Emily held his gaze for a second longer this time, unreadable.

“Not that you’re the first confident woman I’ve met,” he added quickly, almost correcting himself. “But there’s something about you. Something… different.”

A pause.

“I’d like to get to know you,” he said simply. “And” he hesitated just a fraction, “I’d like to invest in this. Your designs.”

That did it.

Emily’s expression shifted immediately.

“No.”

The word was calm but firm.

Ethan blinked, slightly caught off guard.

She exhaled softly, turning her gaze forward again. “Thank you for the compliment… if that’s what it was.”

“It was.”

She nodded once. “Good.”

A beat passed before she continued.

“I know what I’m doing, Ethan. I don’t need validation for that.” Her tone wasn’t harsh, just certain. “And yes, I go for what I want. I always have.”

She paused, then added more quietly, “My mom’s a designer. I learned from the best.”

Ethan watched her, more intrigued than offended.

“And about the investment?” she finished, her voice steady. “You build your empire, I'll build mine.”

Another small pause.

“I don’t need investors.”

That made him pause.

Then, unexpectedly, a small smile touched his lips.

“Noted.”

The waiter approached, breaking the moment. Menus were placed before them, but Ethan didn’t even glance at his.

“We’d have the Chateau Lafite Rothschild 1959” he said smoothly.

Emily blinked. “That sounds expensive.”

“It is.”

“And we’re just… doing that?”

Ethan looked at her. “Yes.”

The waiter nodded. “And for dinner, we’ll be serving the chef’s tasting menu.”

Emily exhaled softly, leaning back. “That’s… very fancy.”

“You’d like it here,” Ethan replied.

She smiled slightly. “I think I will.”

As the evening unfolded, the conversation shifted naturally.

Ethan asked about her work, and this time, Emily didn’t hold back.

“I design because it feels like control,” she said, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her glass. “You can start with nothing… just an idea. And then build something real from it.”

She looked up at him.

“Something people wear. Something that makes them feel… confident. Seen.”

There was a quiet passion in her voice now.

“It doesn’t matter how small I start. At that moment, it felt big.”

Ethan didn’t interrupt.

He just listened.

Carefully.

“And I like privacy,” she added. “I don’t need a spotlight. I just need the work.”

For a moment, silence settled between them but this time, it wasn’t empty.

It was full.

Ethan leaned back slightly, studying her.

“I misjudged you.”

Emily tilted her head. “Oh?”

“I thought you were just… running from something.”

She smiled faintly. “That’s not wrong.”

He nodded once. “But that’s not all you are.”

A small pause.

Emily looked at him, curiosity flickering.

“How did you see me before?”

Ethan didn’t hesitate.

“As a woman running from a dangerous man.”

She let out a soft laugh. “That’s fair.”

“And now?” she asked.

Ethan held her gaze for a second longer than necessary.

“…Now I see more.”

The words lingered.

Neither of them rushed to fill the space.

Eventually, the conversation shifted again.

He asked about her parents.

Emily’s expression softened slightly.

“They passed when I was younger,” she said quietly.

Ethan nodded once.

“…Mine too.”

That was all.

But it was enough.

Something unspoken passed between them.

Understanding.

Later, as the table was cleared and the night settled into something quieter, Ethan reached into his pocket.

“I have something for you,” he said.

Emily frowned slightly. “Another gift?”

“Something necessary,” he replied.

He placed a small box on the table.

Her breath caught slightly as she stared at it.

“…Ethan.”

“Open it.”

Slowly, she did.

Inside was a diamond ring.

Not small.

Not subtle.

It caught the light instantly, brilliant and undeniable.

Emily’s eyes widened as she looked up at him.

“You’re joking… right?” she said, her voice caught between disbelief and something else.

A pause.

Then she let out a soft breath.

“…Are you proposing?”

At the same time

Claire sat alone in her apartment, a glass of wine in her hand.

She leaned back comfortably, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

“She must have worn it by now,” she murmured to herself.

Her tone was light. Almost amused.

“I really do love you, Emily,” she continued softly. “You’re my friend. That part is real.”

She took a slow sip.

“But Ethan?”

Her smile shifted.

“That was never part of the deal.”

She stood, pacing slightly.

“This was supposed to be simple. A contract. A solution.”

Her fingers tightened around the glass.

“Not this… not whatever this is becoming.”

A pause.

Then quieter.

“He’s mine.”

The words didn’t sound emotional.

They sounded certain.

“And I’m sure you embarrassed yourself tonight,” she added with a soft laugh. “In that dress I sent.”

She shook her head slightly, amused.

“This is going exactly how I planned.”

Her phone rang.

Unknown number.

Claire froze for half a second.

Then exhaled sharply, already knowing.

“…Not again,”