Ethan Cutkosky 2024 Novels & Stories

" A pause. The corner of his mouth moves , not quite a smile, the thing that happens just before one. "Your supervisor is wrong." She decides immediately that she likes him. His name is Ethan. He is a guest speaker , sustainable urban design, she gathers from the programme; and he does not offer a last name and she does not ask, the way you don't at certain kinds of events when the conversation has already gone somewhere more interesting than introductions. They talk for two hours that first night. At the bar, then at a corner table when the crowd thickens, then standing outside in the cooling evening air because neither of them suggests stopping and the conversation keeps finding new rooms

I offered a small, grateful bow of my head. Ethan was in his early 30s and had lived in here for years. Within our professional circle, everyone knew him to be a master of his craft—soft-spoken, patient, and deeply dedicated to his students. He handed me a flute of champagne, his eyes crinkling with encouragement. "This is a big day for you. Take a breath, lose the nerves, and go mingle with the guests." I took the glass and smiled back at him. But as I turned, my gaze cut through a sudden gap in the crowded gallery, locking onto a pair of bloodshot eyes.

"Just you wait, Emma!" "What should she be waiting for?" Ethan suddenly asked icily. "For your father to come and back you up?" He stood up, which immediately made it apparent that he had a height advantage over Jack. "Or are you asking for her to wait until you've returned from buying yourself a diploma in Ezelia?" "Who are you?" Jack demanded with false bravado. "Ethan Knight from the Department of Mathematics in Maracasus Institute of Technology," Ethan replied slowly and clearly. "First-prize winner in the international math competition, and a member of the Amerasia national math competition team.

"I'm sorry, Ethan. I didn't know about his father." Ethan crushed his cigarette out. He picked up his glass and drained it in one go. "Happy birthday, Chelsea," he said, his voice deep and smooth. "Thank you," she whispered. "One more thing," Ethan added, adjusting his cuffs. His voice carried a razor-edged warning. "Collins Parker isn't a target. Even if he’s just a stray I’m keeping in the kennel, I’m the only one who gets to push him around." Chelsea paled. "But the divorce... he’ll be nothing to the pack then!"

Ethan shifted his weight from one foot to the other and I could see him working up the courage to say whatever he’d been planning to tell me. “I spent most of yesterday tracking down people from the volleyball team,” he said finally. “Started with Tyler Rodriguez since he was always the one organizing team stuff back then. He’s at USC now, playing for their team.” “It took me forever to get his number,” Ethan continued, running a hand through his hair. “Had to call three different people and promise to buy drinks next time I’m in LA. But I figured if there really was a bet about you, Tyler would have been the one setting it up.”

The computer screen came to life, and his face met me. The beautiful man who held my heart is looking straight back at me. Funny thing is, he doesn’t even realize it. Evan Giovanni Carter, CEO of Magnus Constructions, thirty-four years old, born on the 18th of October. Adopted by Dr. Jacob and Dra. Olivia Carter at the age of four. Harvard Alumni, with a degree in civil engineering. He started as a freelance contractor, the humble beginning of one of the most successful construction companies in New York City.

"I’ll fill you in when we touch down." At high noon, Tyler Dawson swaggered into the executive den at Silvercrest Holdings. "Let’s go hit the local pub, Ethan! My treat." Ethan finished signing the last contract and snapped his laptop shut with a sharp click. "Go without me. I’m heading for the airfield." He’d made up his mind. He was going to Mysticfall to track down Collins. Even if the Omega wanted to bite his head off, Ethan was going to say his piece face-to-face.

The cold glass feels good against my palm, and I take a long sip… bubbles burn my throat, but it’s better than the tightness that’s been building there all day. “Not a fan of champagne?” I turn to find Ethan standing beside me, his bass guitar resting against his hip. He’s shed the velvet jacket, leaving him in just the white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms dusted with dark hair. “I’m not a fan of parties,” I say, taking another sip. “Or surprises. Or people who think they can fix things by buying expensive dresses and big cakes.” “Fair enough.” He grins, taking a flute from the tray as the waiter passes by again. “Though for the record, I think the cake is a waste

Ethan offered as he and Candice walked us out. “Don’t worry about that, sir.” I shook my head, sending him a small, polite smile. “We’ll get an Uber.” “Alright, then. If you insist.” He said with another shrug. “Also, please call me Ethan, already. Okay? This whole formality thing bores me.” “Noted. Ethan.” “Cool.” He nodded before adding again. “Oh. And one last thing? I would like to personally invite you to the Montgomery Holdings Campaign Gala next week. As the creative director of their marketing campaign, you should be there.”

No one got hurt that way. “So do you always guard big slabs of beef?” Trey asked. “Any experience dealing with heavy metal fans?” Ethan turned his head to look at him. “I’ve done security at a lot of concerts.” “Metal concerts?” Was he questioning Ethan’s ability to guard Reagan? “A few.” “She’s going to be a superstar. Are you ready for that?” Abandoning his plan to head for bed, Ethan climbed from his stool to get more coffee. “Is she ready for that?”