3

**Lily's POV**

I reached home around 10 in the morning, belly full of Diana's pancakes and heart full of Ava's koala-hugs. I wasn't tired — slept like a log, actually. I was just… profoundly, beautifully lazy.

Sunday.

My sacred day.

The only day that belonged entirely to me.

Which obviously meant doing absolutely nothing.

I took a cool shower, put on my softest pajama set, did my skincare routine with the grace of a woman who finally had time to pamper herself, and flopped onto the couch. Remote in hand. Blankets. TV time. Peace.

A day without deadlines.

A day without answering calls.

A day without dealing with Ethan sir's six different shades of grumpy.

I swear, the second — literally the exact second — I thought of his name, my phone buzzed.

I froze.

Because I only have one friend. Diana. If it buzzes on a Sunday, it's usually her. But no.

Fate hates me.

It was him.

*From Ethan Sir: "Are you home, Lily?"*

What now?

A Sunday emergency?

A missing file?

A crisis?

I crossed my fingers like a student praying before exam results.

*"Yes sir,"* I replied.

His response came in five seconds.

*"Good. I'm coming in an hour. Which floor?"*

Huh?

Excuse me?

What.

The.

Heck.

He's coming to my house? Why??

He'd dropped me at my building a few times when work stretched till ungodly hours, so yes, he knew where I lived. But he'd never stepped inside. Because why would he? I never invited him, he never asked, and that was the natural balance of the universe.

But my fingers typed before my brain could fully panic.

*"Third floor. Apartment 35."*

I went to my room and put on a proper shirt underneath my pajama top. What else was I supposed to do? Tell him, *"Sir, don't you dare bring your grumpy self into my tiny little home"?*

And then the paranoia crept in.

I live alone.

He's coming over.

He's a man.

A powerful man.

What if—

No.

Absolutely not.

He isn't like that. He's many things — bossy, rude, a walking thundercloud — but not unsafe. If he ever had wrong intentions, he'd had plenty of opportunities in the last four years. He could've gotten rid of me in seventeen different ways and no one would've questioned it.

Still…

I grabbed my pocket knife and slipped it into my pajama pocket. Just in case. 0.00001% paranoia is still paranoia, and my life hadn't exactly been a training ground for trusting people blindly.

I looked around my apartment. Yep — this looks guest-visit clean. Small, cozy, and spotless. Always spotless.

I hate messy houses.

Chaos outside is fine. Chaos inside? Unacceptable.

Should I prepare some food? Every time I visited his place to work, his parents fed me. Like *actually fed me*. But it was 10 a.m. only. He must've had breakfast. I didn't want to cook something he wouldn't eat and have it go to waste.

I took a deep breath.

Ethan Cole.

In my home.

In one hour.

Great.

Just great.

---

**Ethan's POV**

I don't usually stare at my phone like a teenager waiting for a text back, but today… apparently, I do.

*"Third floor. Apartment 35."*

Good. At least she's home.

I grabbed my car keys and stepped out of the mansion, ignoring Ryan yelling behind me, *"TELL LILY WE SAID HIIIII!"*

Moron.

The drive out of the Cole estate was quiet. Too quiet. My mother's voice still echoed in my head. *"We love her! We accept!"* They didn't even know the girl properly and were already planning wedding décor.

And here I was… going to her house to ask her something that wasn't even romantic.

I didn't love Lily.

I barely liked her, if I'm being honest.

But I respected her competence. Her ability to understand instructions before I even finished giving them.

You don't find calm people in my world.

You find noise. Ego. Drama.

She was the rare exception.

And I needed an exception.

I parked outside her building. Decent, modest. The type of place she never complained about.

She never complains about anything.

No demands.

No tantrums.

No ego.

Or maybe she does — just not in front of me.

As I entered the apartment complex, the security guard at the desk nodded cautiously. Big man. Nice car. He let me through without a word.

*What if… she says no?*

What if she laughs? I don't mind.

Or panics? I don't care.

Or quits her job altogether? HELL NO.

The elevator opened onto the third floor. Dim hallway. Small homes packed tightly together. At least it was all clean.

Apartment 35.

I stopped in front of her door.

I lifted my hand and pressed the doorbell.

**Lily's POV**

I tightened my fist, feeling the outline of the pocket knife against my thigh. Just in case. I wasn't stupid — men could be unpredictable. Even the decent ones.

*Why am I scared? He should be scared. This is my territory. Mine.*

I walked to the door and peeked through the peephole.

Oh god.

Ethan Cole was standing outside my home like he was about to buy the whole building.

He was in casual clothes. Black shirt, jeans — still looking like he came straight out of a magazine shoot. It wasn't every day I saw him in something other than a suit.

I opened the door slowly.

*"Sir?"*

He scanned me from head to toe. Pajama set, hair held up in a claw clip, slightly crooked. He didn't react. Same way I didn't. He'd seen me in pajamas enough times when we were out on business trips and shared a floor.

*"Get aside. Let me in,"* he said.

Wow. Not even a hello.

*Chill, sir. This is my house, not yours.*

I stepped aside automatically.

He walked in like he owned the place — shoulders straight, jaw sharp, looking around with his hands in his pockets.

*"Your house is… neat."*

I blinked.

A compliment. From Ethan Cole. Did the sun just crash into the moon?

*"Thank you,"* I muttered, unsure.

He sat down. Like it was his house and I was the guest.

My heartbeat picked up.

*"Is there work? Something urgent?"* I asked.

*"No. Sit."*

He shifted once, then twice, as if the words were too heavy to arrange. Which was… new. Ethan Cole never struggled for words. He wielded them like weapons and he always knew exactly where to aim.

I sat down.

He started speaking.

*"Lily… I need to talk to you about something important."*

He took a breath.

*"About marriage."*

Marriage?

WHOSE marriage?

Mine? His? His car's?

*"My family has been…"* he paused, searching for a word, *"hounding me. Nonstop. They want me to settle down."*

I blinked at him.

Okay?

How is that my problem? Is he asking me to find him a girl? Build a spreadsheet? Book a venue?

*"And,"* he continued, voice steady, *"I told them I already had someone in mind."*

*"Oh."*

Wait—

OH.

My throat dried.

Did he—

No.

NO WAY.

I swear if this goes the way I think it's going, I might actually faint.

*"Who?"* I whispered before I could stop myself.

He looked right at me.

*"You."*

I guess I'm jumping off something.

*"Hear me out,"* he said quickly, seeing my expression.

His eyes softened — the same controlled way they did when he was managing an important client. Calculated. Deliberate.

Ethan leaned back slightly, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

*"Lily, don't misunderstand. I'm not proposing out of emotion. I'm being practical. We're both single. We've worked together long enough to tolerate each other. You know my system, you function in it. I know yours."*

Did he just assume I'm single?

Do I look that *'I-have-no-man'?*

I mean I am, but it's kind of rude he just assumed it.

I fiddled with my sleeves, brain blank, mouth dry. No clue how to respond.

But he wasn't done.

Of course he wasn't.

*"We've traveled together. Shared rooms a hundred times. Worked insane hours. You're efficient. I'm stable. Neither of us has time for romantic circus nonsense."*

He paused, locking eyes with me.

*"So yes — you're the most convenient option for me. And realistically, I'm the most secure option for you."*

Convenient.

What am I? A pack of instant noodles on a shelf?

*"I—"*

He cut me off. Like always.

*"And my parents like you. They really do. They're not the type to treat their daughter-in-law poorly. You'd be happy there. They'd treat you well."*

*"But I'm not marrying your family, right?"* I finally managed. *"I'd be marrying you."*

His jaw ticked slightly. *"About us… if we fall in love, fine. We go with the flow."*

*"And if we don't?"* I pressed. *"Then what? What if you catch feelings for someone else after marrying me? You'll just — divorce me like we're in a video game?"*

Ethan gave me a deadpan stare. *"You, out of all people, should know I don't have time or interest to fall in love with random women."*

Annoyingly enough… that was true. I had seen him reject women who looked like they'd stepped off magazine covers. He didn't even blink at them.

And he was right about me too. My romantic life was a flatline. My day started with this man and ended with this man. I wasn't meeting anyone. I wasn't trying to.

And I did know him. We'd shared rooms while traveling. Slept in the same suite on long work trips. He'd never crossed a line. Never even made me uncomfortable.

He liked peace. I liked peace.

I could feel his gaze on me. Sharp. Knowing. Borderline smug.

He could see I was considering it.

I wanted to wipe that look off his face.

*"I need to talk to someone. Get their advice,"* I said firmly.

*"You do that. Discuss it with your people and let me know tomorrow. My parents want to meet your family."*

*"I… don't have a family. I was going to talk to my friend."*

*"….."*

*"….."*

Silence thick enough to chew.

Then he said, with zero shame, zero filter — *"The one who stands outside my office every day like a bowling pin when the clock hits one?"*

Is he serious right now? He called my girl a bowling pin.

*"Diana,"* I snapped. *"Not a bowling pin."*

*"Right."* He didn't sound convinced. *"Give me your answer tomorrow. Don't make me wait too long."*

*"Alright."*

Ethan's POV

She's considering it.

Good. She's thinking logically, not emotionally. Exactly what I expected.

I got up to leave.

She stopped me. *"Do you… want to eat something before you go?"*

*"No."*

Right then, a soft thud hit the floor.

We both looked down.

A knife. A small one.

I stared at it.

Then at her.

Then at it again.

*"…Should I be worried?"* I asked flatly.

*"N-no. I was chopping vegetables when you came,"* she stammered.

Sure. That was… unbelievably convincing.

I ignored the excuse and walked to the door. She followed to close it behind me.

But something lodged itself in my mind. A tiny, irritating thought.

She felt the need to keep a pocket knife around me.

As if I would hurt her.

If I ever wanted to harm her, she wouldn't have made it past her first day as my PA. That's how easy it would have been.

But whatever. I said what I came to say.

Now I just had to wait for her answer.

And she better not make me wait long.