Chapter Five

Amelia

“You’re not even trying,” I complained, folding my arms across my chest as I stood a few feet away from Ethan in his private gym.

State-of-the-art equipment remained there, shining in the fluorescent lights, clean and unworn. 

Ethan sat in his wheelchair, glaring at me like I’d just insulted his very existence. His dark eyes, framed by thick lashes, burned with barely restrained irritation.

“Trying won’t change the fact that my legs don’t work, " he bit out, his deep baritone voice laced with anger.

His jaw tensed, and the scar on his temple, partially concealed by a neat, jetblack hairline, appeared to be visible as he tensed.

I held my breath, not letting my anger and frustration get out. Why was everything hard with this man? We've been at this for an hour now.

“This isn’t about whether your legs work right now. It’s about building strength, even if it’s incremental. Progress starts somewhere, Ethan.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t the kind of laugh that brought joy. 

It was bitter, cutting. “You don’t get it, do you? You can sit there with your perfect life and spout all the therapy jargon you want, but at the end of the day, I’m stuck here. This chair is my reality.”

I stepped closer, my heeled boots clicking against the polished floor. 

“You think I have a perfect life?” I asked, my voice rising despite my attempt to stay calm. “Ethan, you don’t know the first thing about me.”

“Enlighten me, then”, he shot back, his lips curling into a mocking smirk.

For a moment, I considered telling him everything and about my mother, the mounting medical bills, the sleepless nights worrying about how I’d keep her alive. 

But this wasn’t about me, and I wasn’t about to let him derail the session.

“You don't deserve to be enlightened.” I replied instead.

Then I crouched in front of him, coming eye to eye with him. His features were striking, even when twisted in anger. His broad shoulders and muscular frame hinted at the man he used to be, someone full of strength and vitality.

“Stand up,” I said firmly.

His brows furrowed, and he looked at me like I’d just suggested he sprout wings. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I said, holding my ground. “You’re going to try standing. Even if it’s just for a second.”

“I can’t.” he answered, his voice quieter now, but no less defiant.

“You don’t know that unless you try.”

His hands gripped the wheels of his chair tightly, the veins in his forearms bulging. “What part of ‘I can’t’ don’t you understand?”

“The place where you've already decided to throw in the towel," I whispered, my own voice echoing in the empty space. “You’re Ethan Steele, the man who built an empire from nothing. Are you seriously going to let this chair shape who you are?”

His jaw worked as he ground his teeth together, but he didn’t respond. I knew I'd hit a nerve.

“All right," I replied, rising to my feet and backing up. “If you’re so determined to stay where you are, then stay. But don’t blame me when nothing changes.”

I turned on my heel, ready to leave him to his stubbornness, when his voice stopped me.

“Wait.”

When I looked back over my shoulder, I saw, for the first time, other than for his usual expression of hostility, the man's eyes held another emotion. 

It was vulnerable, raw and unguarded.

He settled his hands on the arm of his chair, his shoulders shaking a little at the rolling movement as he rocketed himself up. His legs vibrated, and for a second I doubted whether he would stumble.

Without thinking, I rushed to his side, my hands hovering near his waist in case he needed support. 

“You’re doing it,” I said softly.

“I’m not a child, he snapped, though his voice lacked its usual venom. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not,” I said, meeting his gaze. “I’m just saying you’re stronger than you think.”

He held my stare, and for a moment, the space between us seemed to shrink. The air crackled like static electricity, and I could feel the heat radiating off him.

His face was mere inches from mine, and I could see the tiny flecks of gold in his otherwise dark eyes. His lips parted for a moment and I could feel my breath hitch.

“You’re annoying like a bee buzzing in your ear all the time,” he muttered, though his voice had softened.

“And you’re impossible. I could do without your attitude.” I shot back, my own voice barely above a whisper.

The air between us grew heavier, charged.

 His gaze flickered to my lips, and before I could stop myself, I wondered what it would feel like if he closed the distance.

He bit his lower lip and a sharp thrill ran down my spine. He was handsome, in a movie star way. It was a pity he was crippled.

He leaned in, but only slightly as if he was trying to talk himself out of doing something. Out of kissing me.

“Are you always this demanding?” His voice was low, but husky.

Then he reached up and traced my cheek with his thumb. I didn't respond, too occupied by the sharp tingles that ran round my body at his touch.

What was wrong with me? I wondered.

However, as the moment began to spin out of control into the realms of the unanticipated, the clanging of the gym door opening spoiled the moment.

“Am I interrupting something?” Jared’s voice rang out, cool and clipped.

When I jumped backward in alarm, my cheek felt the heat as I faced him. Jared stood in the doorway, his tailored suit immaculate as always, his expression, well..not there.

Ethan slumped back into his chair, and put on an air of nonchalance. “What do you want, Jared?”

Jared’s gaze flicked between us before settling on Ethan. “The board has called a surprise meeting. They’re questioning your competency as CEO. Veronica is there.”

Ethan's face paled, and his hands became clenched fists.

“And my father? Is he with her?”

“No, he's not. But I warn you, the board is behind her. They must have met with your father.” Jared told him.

“Do I stand a chance of turning this around?” Ethan asked.

I watched helplessly as Jared shrugged.