Chapter 4

By late afternoon, the office had emptied slightly, but I still felt the weight of Ethan’s gaze. I kept my focus on my laptop, pretending to type, pretending the world wasn’t spinning around me.

Then he appeared in the doorway, deliberate and storming, his presence instantly making the air feel heavier.

“Why is he here?” His voice was low, sharp, dangerous. His eyes burned into me as he advanced, each step measured.

“Marco… my fiance'.. he just come to visit me and brought some foods. ” I started, trying to explain.

“I don’t care, it was an office hours. he was not allowed here, I'm not paying each of employees just to sit here and flirt with anyone.” Ethan interrupted, stepping closer. His jaw tightened, his hands clenched. “I don’t want him near you. I don’t want anyone near you except me.”

My pulse spiked. His possessiveness hit me like a wave. Every instinct screamed to pull back, to tell him to stop. And yet… part of me trembled at how intense he was.

He closed the distance, brushing his hand against my arm. “Katya,” he said, voice low and rough, “you don’t know why you let him in. You don’t understand how dangerous this is! making me jealous.”

I tried to speak. “Ethan… I—”

Before I could finish, he pressed his lips to mine. Forceful. Sudden. My body stiffened. My mind screamed to push him away. And yet… I didn’t. I couldn’t.

When he pulled back just slightly, resting his forehead against mine, his eyes were dark and intense. “I don’t know why you let me,” he admitted, “but don’t pretend you don’t feel it. Don’t pretend I don’t own a part of you.”

I swallowed, heart pounding. Marco — my fiancé knew the baby wasn’t his. He would still stay. He would still love me. He would still fight for me. And he had every right to be here.

But Ethan’s presence was suffocating. Possessive. Dangerous. He hated Marco being near me. He hated the idea that someone else could comfort me, claim a small space that he believed belonged only to him.

“I… I shouldn’t—” I whispered.

“You shouldn’t what?” Ethan’s hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin. “Feel something for me? Want me?” His voice was rough, commanding. “I don’t care. You won’t hide from me. Not today. Not ever.”

My chest tightened. My hands shook. Even as I tried to pull away, part of me — the part I hated admitting even to myself — wanted him. The danger, the power, the raw intensity… it was terrifyingly irresistible.

Marco’s patience, his love, his understanding. the fact that he knew the truth and still wanted to stay. made him safe, steady, unwavering. He would fight for me. He would be there. He would protect me.

But Ethan… Ethan wanted me. All of me. And part of me wanted that too, despite knowing it was dangerous, forbidden, impossible.

I pressed my forehead to my desk, whispering to myself: “No one can know… not Marco. Not him.”

And yet, both of them were already pulling me in opposite directions. one safe, one dangerous, one loving, one demanding.

And the worst part? I couldn’t deny that I wanted them both, in different ways, and that desire terrified me almost as much as Ethan Dawson himself.

The office felt impossibly quiet after Ethan returned to his own domain. I tried to bury myself in work, but every sound. the hum of the computer, the faint tapping of keys from other offices, the soft whir of the air conditioning seemed to echo his presence.

I opened emails, clicked through spreadsheets, and typed half-formed sentences, only to delete them again. Each word felt hollow, meaningless. My mind wandered back to the way he had looked at me, the way his hand had cupped my cheek, the unexpected pressure of his lips against mine. I shivered involuntarily, pressing my arms over my stomach as if I could shield myself from the memory.

Marco’s presence earlier lingered too, though in a very different way. His gentle touch, the steady warmth of his concern, the patient way he spoke. It made me ache with guilt. He didn’t know the full truth, and he never would… not yet. And the thought that he still wanted to protect me, to stay by my side despite everything, should have been comforting. Instead, it made the storm inside me harder to bear.

I tried to focus, tapping keys, scrolling through reports. But the moment I paused, Ethan’s voice low, commanding. echoed in my mind. “You won’t hide from me. Not today. Not ever.” I pressed my forehead to my desk, closing my eyes, willing the memory away.

My hands shook slightly as I poured a cup of tea. The steam fogged my glasses, and for a moment, I imagined it was the lingering heat of his presence. I wanted to drink it, let it soothe me, but even that small comfort felt tainted by fear and desire.

Hours passed. I tried to lose myself in work, but every glance at the glass wall reminded me of him. I imagined him watching, leaning casually against the window frame, waiting, assessing, owning. My stomach twisted at the thought. Even though he wasn’t here, his shadow clung to me.

I thought of Marco again. He had no idea that Ethan was the father, no idea about the secret I carried. He only knew that I was stressed, overwhelmed. And still… he stayed. Still, he wanted to fight for me. That thought should have made me feel safe, but safety was impossible with Ethan’s presence lingering like smoke in my lungs.

By late afternoon, my focus had deteriorated entirely. Every spreadsheet, every report, every word I tried to type blurred together. I pinched the bridge of my nose and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The office lights felt too bright. The air too heavy.

I hugged myself again, pressing my arms over my stomach. I wanted to disappear into the chair, into the hum of the computers, anywhere to escape the impossible tension of the day.

Part of me wanted Marco to come back and hold me, to carry some of the weight of this secret. Part of me wanted to run straight into Ethan’s arms, to feel the dangerous pull of him again, even though I knew it would only complicate everything.

I hated the confusion inside me. I hated the desire that betrayed my loyalty. I hated the fear that gripped me every time I thought about what Ethan might do if he ever discovered the truth.

And yet… even as I tried to focus on work, a small, undeniable part of me acknowledged it: I wanted both of them. In different ways. One safe, one dangerous. One patient, one possessive. One loving, one commanding.

The day dragged on. Emails were answered mechanically. Calls were returned in clipped tones. Every step, every movement, every glance at the glass walls reminded me of the storm I was caught in.

By the time the sun dipped behind the skyline, casting a golden haze across the office, I realized I had survived the day. Survived without telling anyone the truth, survived without letting either of them know how fragile I truly was.

I pressed my forehead to the desk one last time before gathering my things, whispering to myself: “Just get through today… tomorrow, maybe, I’ll be stronger.”

But deep down, I knew the storm wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. And the tension between the three of us. me, Marco, Ethan — was only going to get worse.

Because no matter how much I tried to focus, no matter how carefully I hid the truth, both men were already entangled in my life, and neither of them would let go.