chapter eight: The sticky situation

Avoiding Ethan was impossible.

I tried. I really did.

He was always there, impossible to ignore, always throwing in some comments that got under my skin. But as much as he irritated me, my mother was worse she was practically draping herself over Robert. I knew they were getting married soon, but still.

My mother had a toxic talent: luring in old, bored men with her hourglass figure. I had inherited the same shape, but unlike her, I preferred to cover it up rather than flaunt it.

She played the part of the long-suffering woman who had raised her daughter alone, and that was exactly why she needed me here today. But I knew how this worked. She would get bored after six months, divorce him, and if she was lucky, walk away with half his money or at least the expensive gifts.

That’s how we went from a trailer to a suburban house in three years. And now? Now she owns a mansion.

One would think I am being too harsh on her, but stick around and see for yourself.

I kept my focus on Rachel, pretending to be deeply invested in whatever conversation she was steering us into. But even as she spoke, I could feel him.

Rachel was nice, but she wasn’t holding my attention. I wasn’t eager to make a female friend after what happened with Lily. Still, Rachel didn’t seem like the type to sleep with a friend’s boyfriend. She had the same piercing gray eyes as her brother, but her light brown hair and easy smile softened her. Unlike Ethan, who was always brooding.

He sat across from me, relaxed, effortlessly confident, watching me with those sharp eyes that held far too many secrets.

Every time I dared to glance in his direction, I regretted it. His smirk was lazy, knowing, and every bit as frustrating as I remembered.

“You look nervous, Sophia,” Ethan drawled, swirling the dark liquor in his glass. “Is it because of me? You shouldn’t be so shy around your family.”

My fingers clenched around my fork. Family. The word tasted sour like something I had swallowed too fast and couldn’t spit out.

But I guess you don't almost have sex with your family.

Six months from now, we will go back to being strangers. He would just be my boss, and my mother would be spending his father’s money in the Maldives.

I know this story all too well.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at Ethan’s remark, but I pretended not to hear him. I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

He frowned. Jackpot. Ethan didn’t like being ignored.

As if the evening couldn’t get any worse, my mother suddenly perked up, her voice too loud, too eager. “Oh! Sophia had a job interview today.”

I wanted to gag. She couldn’t have cared less about my interview, but now that she wanted to impress her soon-to-be husband, suddenly it mattered. Pathetic.

Then my eyes met Ethan’s, and I remembered where I had interviewed.

I stiffened. No. No, no, no. The last thing I wanted to talk about was my interview.

“Really?” Robert asked, his tone dripping with feigned interest. “Where at?”

Before I could say anything, Ethan leaned back lazily in his chair, looking like a man who had the upper hand in a game I didn’t even want to play.

“She interviewed at Blackwood Corp.”

The silence was brief but heavy.

Everyone’s attention shifted to me. Maybe they were all shocked at the coincidence all except Ethan.

My mother’s eyes practically sparkled as she looked between me and him. She was scheming. I just knew it.

Robert Blackwood, on the other hand, couldn’t have cared less. His eyes were glued to my mother’s cleavage, though he was decent enough to glance at me every now and then, pretending to be part of the conversation.

Rachel seemed genuinely excited for reasons I didn’t yet understand.

And Ethan?

He could go straight to hell.