Chapter 17

 

Arie’s POV

For the rest of the week, Ethan kept his promise.

He didn’t mention the kiss again. He didn’t find unnecessary reasons to touch me or attempt to turn every conversation into something personal. During meetings, he treated me exactly as he had before the celebration—challenging my ideas, listening when I defended them, and occasionally irritating me simply because he enjoyed watching me argue.

The business card remained inside the hidden pocket of my wallet.

I had no intention of using the number written across the back, yet I checked for it more often than I wanted to admit. Knowing it was there brought a comfort I wasn’t accustomed to feeling. For most of my life, protection had arrived with conditions. Uncle Angelo protected me because I was his brother’s daughter. Nico protected me because he believed I belonged to him.

Ethan had offered help without asking for anything in return.

That frightened me almost as much as it reassured me.

The black vehicles outside the office and my apartment disappeared after Monday. By Friday, I had almost convinced myself they had been coincidences. Seattle was filled with expensive cars, and Nico had no way to contact me after I changed my number. Perhaps the months of looking over my shoulder had trained my mind to find him everywhere.

I wanted to believe that explanation.

On Saturday morning, Shelly arrived at my apartment carrying three coffees and enough energy to exhaust the entire city.

“Get dressed,” she announced as soon as I opened the door.

“I am dressed.”

She looked at my old sweater and leggings. “You are prepared to spend the day cleaning. That is not the same thing.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Saving you from another weekend of reorganising cupboards.”

“I reorganised them last Sunday.”

“That proves my point.”

She entered without waiting for an invitation and placed the coffees on my kitchen table. I closed the door behind her.

“Where are we going?”

“You once complained that you’ve seen nothing in Seattle except the office, your grocery store, and the inside of the Hale hotel.”

“I didn’t complain. I stated a fact.”

“Today we’re fixing it.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Who is we?”

Shelly’s innocent expression revealed the answer before she spoke.

“Ethan may have mentioned that he still owes you a tour.”

“I’m not going anywhere alone with him.”

“You won’t be alone. I’ll be there.”

The idea of spending an entire day with Ethan made the memory of his kiss return with uncomfortable clarity.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why? He apologised, you accepted, and nobody is asking you to marry him.”

The mention of marriage caused my smile to fade.

Shelly noticed. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“You don’t have to come,” she said more gently. “But you’re allowed to enjoy something, Arie. Whoever hurt you shouldn’t get to take every good day that comes afterward.”

Her words settled inside me.

An hour later, we met Ethan near Pike Place Market.

He wore dark jeans, a charcoal sweater, and a black coat rather than one of his usual suits. Without the formal clothes and people waiting for his decisions, he looked younger and more approachable.

His gaze found me before he noticed Shelly.

Then his attention shifted deliberately toward both of us. I recognised the effort he was making not to let his interest become pressure.

“You came,” he said.

“Shelly threatened to remove my cupboard doors if I stayed home.”

“I would have helped,” Shelly added.

Ethan smiled. “Remind me never to disappoint you.”

We entered the market with Shelly walking between us. The crowded aisles smelled of coffee, warm bread, flowers, and the sea. Vendors called to passing customers, tourists gathered around displays, and somewhere ahead of us, people cheered as a fish sailed through the air.

I stopped before a stall overflowing with flowers. Red and yellow tulips filled metal buckets, their colour almost impossibly bright against the grey morning.

“My father used to bring me tulips,” I said without thinking.

Ethan stood beside me. “For special occasions?”

“No. Usually when he had forgotten something important.”

“What did he forget?”

“Everything. School performances, appointments, promises to come home early.” A smile touched my lips. “But he always remembered the flowers afterward.”

“Do they still work?”

“What?”

“As an apology.”

I studied the tulips. “They did when they came from him.”

Ethan didn’t ask where my father was or why sadness had entered my voice. He bought a small bunch of yellow tulips and handed them to me.

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” he said. “So these don’t require forgiveness.”

My chest tightened unexpectedly. “You didn’t have to buy them.”

“I know.”

Shelly watched us from a few feet away, smiling far too knowingly. I ignored her and accepted the flowers.

We spent the next several hours moving through the city. Ethan showed us the waterfront and a small bookstore hidden between two cafés. Shelly forced us onto the giant observation wheel despite claiming she hated heights only after the doors had closed.

When the carriage rose above the city, she gripped my arm and refused to look down.

“This was your idea,” I reminded her.

“I make mistakes.”

Ethan sat opposite us, appearing far too entertained by her terror.

“If we die,” Shelly warned him, “I’m holding Hale International responsible.”

“I’ll inform the legal department.”

Her panic made me laugh until my stomach hurt. It was an ordinary, ridiculous moment, and I allowed myself to enjoy it without searching for the danger that might follow.

By afternoon, the rain had returned. We took shelter inside a quiet café near the water. Shelly excused herself to answer a call, leaving Ethan and me alone at the table.

“I didn’t arrange for her phone to ring,” he said.

“I wasn’t accusing you.”

“You looked suspicious.”

“I often look suspicious.”

“I’ve noticed.”

A brief silence followed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Thank you for today,” I said. “I needed it.”

“Shelly deserves most of the credit.”

“She’ll claim all of it.”

Ethan’s expression became more serious. “Are you comfortable with me being here?”

The directness of the question surprised me. “Yes.”

“And the other night?”

I looked down at my coffee. “I don’t regret kissing you.”

Something shifted in his eyes.

“But I’m still not ready for anything,” I continued.

“I understand.”

“I can only offer friendship.”

“Then friendship is what I’ll take.”

“No arguments?”

“I run several companies, Arie. I don’t need to negotiate every part of my life.”

A smile pulled at my mouth. “That might be the first sensible thing you’ve said.”

“It’s good to know our friendship will be built on insults.”

Shelly returned before the conversation could become more serious. Still, something between Ethan and me had settled into place. The attraction remained, but it no longer felt like a question I needed to answer immediately.

For now, friendship was enough.

As evening approached, Ethan walked us to the taxi stand. He waited until Shelly and I were safely inside before stepping away. During the ride, she held the yellow tulips and examined me.

“You like him.”

“I like him as a friend.”

“You kissed him as a friend?”

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

“You never discuss anything with me.”

“And yet you never stop talking.”

She rested her head against my shoulder. “That is why our friendship works.”

After dropping Shelly home, the taxi continued toward my apartment. I carried the flowers into the building, still smiling as I remembered the day.

The smile disappeared when I reached the fourth floor.

My apartment door was slightly open.

I knew I had locked it before leaving. I always checked twice.

I remained frozen at the end of the corridor, listening for movement inside. The building was silent. My first instinct was to reach for my phone. Ethan’s number was inside my wallet, but calling him would bring him into a danger I didn’t yet understand.

I moved closer and pushed the door open with one hand.

Nothing appeared disturbed. The furniture remained in place, the windows were closed, and my laptop still sat on the kitchen table. Whoever had entered hadn’t come to steal anything.

I picked up a heavy candleholder and searched each room. The bathroom was empty. So was the bedroom.

Then I saw the wardrobe drawer.

It was open.

The clothes I had placed over the black Contini box had been folded neatly beside it. The box itself was missing.

My breathing became shallow.

I turned toward the bed.

The emerald necklace lay across my white pillow, arranged carefully enough to catch the light. Beside it rested the photograph from my father’s bedside table. Someone had moved it there after examining it.

No note had been left.

None was necessary.

Only one man knew what that necklace meant to me. Only one man would enter my home without breaking the lock and leave behind a reminder instead of a threat.

The yellow tulips slipped from my fingers and scattered across the floor.

Nico wasn’t coming to Seattle.

He was already here.