Chapter 7: Her absence

Ethan’s POV

The house was too quiet.

I sat at the head of the dinner table, a plate of untasted food in front of me. I adored the quietness of this house; it was the sole place where I could think without interruption, without useless chatter. Yet now, quietness was too loud, too conspicuous.

She'd been gone for four days.

It should have been impossible to care, I wanted distance, didn't I? Her absence was supposed to be a relief. No gentle smiles that I could not reciprocate, no optimistic glances that caused my chest to feel sore. But now, the empty spaces were more oppressive with the air condensed by her absence.

I pushed the plate away and stood; chair scraping against the floor. I needed to get to work. Work puts my head in order. Numbers made sense, logic. Unlike Lila.

At the office, I delved into reports and meetings. But my mind betrayed me and wandered to her at the most inopportune times.

I recalled the way she'd stood in the library the other day, her lips slightly apart as she looked up at me. The memory hit me like a punch in the stomach. I'd been so hungry to kiss her then that my fists had clenched at my sides to prevent it. She'd filled my senses with her scent, quiet and floral, with a hint of something sweeter, vanilla maybe. So irresistible.

And that dress. Oh Lord, that dress. It was clinging to her curves like a second skin, tracing the gentle curve of her shoulders and the delicate curve of her waist. I had to get out of the room before I did something ridiculous, like hold her in my arms and kiss her senseless.

By the time I was leaving the office, my frustration doubled. Not against her, but against myself. I hated how she just snuck into my head, how I wanted her in spite of every warning signal yelling in my head.

The silence was waiting for me once more when I finally got home. I walked into the master bedroom, some unknown urge pushing me. Her scent was on the sheets and in the air. Weak, but unmistakable.

I went into the walk-in closet with my hand lightly stroking across the smooth planes of her dresses, and slid my hand over one and grabbed it to my nose and inhaled stupidly.

Her fragrance rose up into my nose and my body answered in a nanosecond. A growl rumble erupted from my throat as my dick came to life, the warmth building low in my belly.

My mind was flooded with things I had no way of shoving aside, thoughts of bending her over the table and getting her breathless moans to fill the air, spanking her lightly for driving me crazy, her lips swollen as I took her breath away with kisses. The images of her beneath me flashed before my mind, shivering while hands, mouth, and cock worship her body.

A wave of self-loathing washed over me and I quickly dropped the dress, stepping back as if it burned me.

What the fuck was I doing?

I walked around the room, running my fingers through my hair. This wasn't me. I didn't act on emotions, or need, or whatever this was. I was better than this.

That evening, no matter how much I struggled, I was in the master bedroom on the bed, her perfume still on the sheets, enveloping me. I slept soundly for the first time in days, and I dreamed of her.

The next day, I dived headfirst into work once more, attempting to drive her from my mind. Meetings, calls, spreadsheets, they kept me occupied and kept me from thinking about her smile, the laugh, the shine in her eyes when she became animated about something.

Later that same afternoon, as I was going over quarterly projections, my phone buzzed.

It was a text from Lila.

Hi, Ethan. I just wanted to just check in with you to know how you're doing. I hope you're fine.

My heart raced and a ridiculous feeling of warmth filling my chest. She cared. She was thinking about me.

For a moment, I thought about answering back. Something lighthearted, something like

"I'm fine. How are you?"

But then came the questions.

Was she sincere, or was this just one of those schemes for her to secure herself a space in my life, and liberty to my account?

I set the phone down, gritting my teeth. I was not going to be lured just to be disappointed.

But sitting at my desk a little while afterward, I couldn't help but have her message on my mind. I was thinking about what she was probably doing, and whether she was missing me as much as I was missing her.

No sooner had the idea occurred to me than my hand was on my cell phone. I was typing out my response:

I’m fine. Take care.

Brief, straightforward, and to the point.

A pang of guilt settled in my chest as I sent the message. I wanted to tell her more, but I couldn't allow myself.

The rest of the day was a blur of frustration. I hated how much she dominated my mind, how much I needed her there. Her absence was an emptiness, one that I fought to fill but couldn't.

The day she was to return, I paraded the house, giving orders to the staff. The whole house had to be immaculate, every surface polished to a shine. I even had fresh lilies placed in the bedroom, her favorite, although I'd never admit to knowing that.

On an impulse I couldn't explain, I happened to stop by a jewelry shop on the way home from the office. My eyes landed on a pair of diamond earrings-neat, understated, yet perfect. Perfect for her.

I placed them on the bed table beside the lily vase, my gut twisting in worry. Would she take them? Would she interpret it as an act of good faith or a bribe? I told myself it didn't matter; it was a gesture. But in secret, I hoped she'd realize I'd been thinking about her, that I cared.

I remained waiting for her in the living room while my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of her being present. I couldn't wait to see her, see her beautiful face and listen to her voice and sweet laughter.

But then I couldn't suppress the tiny voice of fear that she was yet another woman who was with me just for my money.