Ethan Fair Novels & Stories

“What's the lucky guy's name?” She chews on her lip for a second. “You have to promise to stay quiet about it. It's new and I don't know if it's long term and I don't want to cause problems.” “Who is it?” I grin. I'm thinking maybe one of the Maroni brothers. They were at all the family functions, and I actually thought the older one was pretty cute. “What's his name?” “Ethan.” She says his name and it doesn't register in my head. Ethan is probably five or ten years older than Sara. I don't actually know his age, just that he was military and is a scary enforcer.

I was really proud of myself , I fixed this event really nice and Damien wouldn't stop praising my tastes. My phone rang. I picked it up without checking who was calling. I didn't know who it was until I heard his powerful voice call out my name " Paula, meet me in the gallery right now" Ethan demanded, why can’t he speak more calmly? What a jerk . he is so arrogant, I wish my heart can hear him speak to me. Duh! the little bitch hears but refuses to learn. I excused myself from Damien who suddenly has his hands filled with guests and investors. I walked upstairs to meet Mr Ethan in the gallery.

“You think he shows up just to memorize formulas?” I froze. “He?” And before she could answer me, the door was pushed open and there he was. Ethan. Our teaching assistant. He looked so hot that my mouth fell open. He was not supposed to look like that. TA’s were supposed to look nerdy, one of those akward and clumsy graduates who walked around with coffee stains on their shirts. But Ethan?… he was nothing close to that. He looked like he had just stepped out of a forbidden catalog. He was tall, lean, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, he had veins in his forearms, and I swear, all this sexiness should be considered illegal.

Even if he is not my friend and doesn’t belong to me, well, still I have to be nice to him. “My dear friend? Don’t you think you are forgetting something?” He smirk, reminding me that we aren’t friends anymore. He never called me by that time, never tried to reach me, so why is he here? “Well, Natasha is very friendly,” he pops her name unexpectedly. My shoulders tense as he said her name. On the shooting day, he was getting much closer to her. The way she was talking with him, she may be one of his fans. Ethan is popular as a Californiai actor. Besides having a lot of fans, he’s also a singer.

Ethan, still sniffing, said, "Firstly, Steven has been sentenced to life imprisonment and secondly..." "What? Secondly what?" Alfie demanded impatiently. Neither Ethan nor Angela provided a response. "Wait! So you are both shedding tears for a murderer who received his due? This is utterly unacceptable and unbelievable," Alfie declared. Angela sniffed as she interjected to inform Alfie about the situation at hand. "No, that is not the reason for our tears; in fact, we are shedding tears of joy because my friend Cynthia spoke highly of Ethan to her uncle, who is a manager at another financial institution. As a result of her commendation, Ethan was offered employment without the need for an in

Ethan taunted. "What do you want?" Damian retorted. "A cup of coffee. Cold brew with cold foam. Just how you used to make it for me." Ethan said looking past Damian to a still pale looking Aria. "...ah, with a pump of vanilla. It's a new taste I'm still warming up to" " I'll have to call the cops if you'll not willingly leave, Mr Evans" "Ethan....my name's Ethan. And,.I'll leave. All I wanted was a cup of coffee, chill out bro!"

“What about you?” Ethan cuts into his steak while answering, “I work in the heart of the pack as a funds manager, but I’m also a Gamma, so I help with security and protection when necessary.” I nod, taking a bite of my pasta. Our conversation is stiff for a while, but soon, we fall into a polite rhythm of taking turns asking questions. “Did you always want to be an assistant?” Ethan questions, looking up from his plate. “Or did you have a dream job that’s different?”

This had an unsettling quality to it. While all of the festivities were taking place, Monica's gaze turned back to Madeline at the altar. The girl appeared faultless, to a great extent. It was almost painful. Like an impure curse in disguise, she whispered under her breath. "Madeleine, when will you be able to hold that place?!" Ethan was positioned near them, wearing a black suit. Not because he was nervous, but because his anger had been suppressed since morning, and his face appeared pale. What happened? He had his hands in his pockets and gazed at the altar where Madeline would soon stand.

“I didn’t do what I’m being accused of, and stepping down would only make everyone assume I did. I’m not handing Brian Norwood a win because he’s good at leaking half-truths.” Then Freya stood up from her seat at the side of the room, voice shaking but loud enough to fill the whole hall. “Ethan protected my children with his bare hands two nights ago,” she said, eyes already wet. “He ran into a burning building without blinking. He has done nothing but try to protect this pack since the day I met him again, and you’re going to take his title because of photos someone conveniently produced right when this whole misunderstanding started clearing up Ethan’s name?”

“Hey, I’m calling about the room for rent? My name’s Ethan.” The voice quickly grabbed my attention; it was soft, polite and he asked actual questions—square footage, utilities, noise policy. We spoke for twenty minutes. By the end of the call, I had a good feeling. He came to see the place the next day. Ethan stepped out of a rideshare wearing a soft cream sweater and skinny jeans, his dark hair falling past his shoulders in carefully layered waves. He was maybe five-six, one-thirty soaking wet, with delicate features and a charming smile.