Chapter 19: Hidden Feelings

Ethan's eyes were hungry as he stared at me. He had no twin, and I was certain it was really him standing in front of me.

"Stop it." I pushed his hand away, but he only stepped closer. Ethan had been my friend for more than twenty years, and I had never expected this from him.

"I have always liked you," he said. "You are more than a friend to me. I was afraid to say it, but you don't have to be afraid of me."

I backed away until my shoulders touched the door. My ears had heard the words, but my mind refused to accept them.

Then, without warning, Ethan sank to the floor and knelt there with his head bowed, as though he were thinking.

Was he telling the truth? I asked myself.

I could not leave him like that, so I crouched down to help him up. That was when I noticed something was off. A sharp smell of alcohol reached my nose. I looked around the room and saw an open bottle on the edge of the table.

He was drunk.

I helped him to the sofa and stayed beside him until he finally fell asleep. Even then, what he had said kept circling in my head. I settled into the armchair and tried to convince myself that the alcohol was the reason. Drunk people said foolish things all the time.

The next morning, I woke to find Ethan pacing from one end of the room to the other. He did not notice that I was awake until I called his name.

He hurried over, one hand pressed against his forehead. "I'm sorry. Do you remember what I said last night? Can you tell me? Damn it." He looked down at the floor.

"You didn't mean it, right?"

"No," he answered quickly. "Not at all. I thought you were someone else, a girl I used to have a crush on back then."

That was his explanation.

I noticed that he had not said my name last night when he said those words. So I let it go. Perhaps he was telling the truth, and if Ethan had truly liked me all those years, he would have said something long ago. We were practically siblings.

"It's okay," I told him. "I believe you. But promise me you won't get drunk like that again."

He promised, and I wanted to believe him.

I left soon afterward and drove toward the office, taking the road slowly. My mind was still crowded with the events of the night before. Then, without warning, a woman leapt in front of my car, and I slammed on the brakes.

It was Natasha.

She wore towering heels and a flashy outfit that caught the morning light. She marched toward my window as if she owned the road.

If she is going to say something unpleasant, I should just keep driving, I thought, and I fixed my eyes on the steering wheel.

"Hi, Emilia," she said, smiling sweetly. "My fiancé's assistant. I need you to pass a message to him. He is angry with me right now, so would you please give him this?" She held out an envelope.

I only stared at her.

"And if you can, please plead for me," she added. "We will definitely get back together. He is just upset, that's all."

I knew Natasha had never been kind to me. Still, something in her voice made me hesitate, and before I could stop myself, I took the envelope.

"Okay," I said. "I will give it to him."

Then I drove away.

Steven was out for most of the day. He had back-to-back meetings, and I did not see him until I was about to leave. He walked in tugging at his tie as though it were choking him.

I stepped forward and handed him the envelope. "Natasha asked me to give you this."

"Oh, really?" He turned it over, looking at the front, then the back. I thought he might open it. Instead, he crushed it in his fist, his expression hard.

"Next time, do not accept anything from her. I am sure you know what happened between us."

"Yes, sir. May I just ask you something? You could have just taken a look."

"Are you going to tell me what to do now?"

He started toward me. With every step he took, I found myself retreating another step.

"Tell me, how much did she pay you? Do you interfere in other people's affairs?"

"No, sir. I was only trying to..." I tried to explain, but the words would not come. Natasha had never been kind to me, and I could not understand why I had agreed to carry her message. Perhaps, when I saw Steven's pain the other day, her pleading had settled somewhere inside me.

Steven did not give me the chance to speak. I wondered whether this was the same man from yesterday.

"Or are you the kind of assistant who believes she can get her way with her boss?" he asked.