Luelle
Luelle stepped cautiously into Ethan's apartment, her heels clicking faintly against the polished wooden floor. The air was different here—not just the faint scent of leather and cologne that lingered, but the weight of his presence, the intimacy of a space that was wholly his. She was out of her element, and it showed in the way she clutched her bag tightly, her posture stiff.
Ethan gestured toward the living room, his movements slower than usual but confident as always. "Make yourself at home," he said simply, his voice steady, though there was an edge of weariness beneath it.
Luelle forced a smile, the kind that reached her lips but not her eyes. The apartment felt too personal—too much a part of him—and the idea of "home" felt foreign in a place like this. "Thank you," she replied, her tone measured.
He crossed the room, dropping his own bag onto the couch before turning back to her. "It's safer here," he added, as if anticipating the resistance she hadn't yet voiced. "No guards trailing you, no cameras to worry about. Just you and me."
The reminder prickled at her skin. She had fought hard against the idea of moving in, but Ethan's insistence had left her with little choice. Still, she hated the vulnerability this arrangement brought with it—hated the proximity that threatened the carefully constructed walls she'd built around herself.
She shifted her weight slightly, her heels biting into the rug beneath her. "Which room will I be staying in?" she asked, her tone casual despite the faint unease curling in her chest.
Ethan glanced at her, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "We can share," he said, his voice too casual for the gravity of the words.
The air seemed to shift, heavy and charged, as her heart stumbled in her chest. "What?" she managed, her voice sharper than intended.
He leaned back against the edge of the couch, crossing his arms, clearly amused by her reaction. "I'm joking. Relax."
Luelle exhaled sharply, relief spilling over her irritation. She narrowed her eyes, her voice biting. "Not funny."
Ethan chuckled, the sound soft and slightly strained. "You should've seen your face."
She folded her arms across her chest, her expression cool despite the faint flush warming her cheeks. "Just show me where I'm staying."
Still grinning, Ethan pushed off the couch and moved toward the hallway, gesturing for her to follow. "Come on. Guest room. Closest to mine."
Luelle trailed behind him, her irritation fading as her gaze flicked over his silhouette. The amusement lingered on his face, but she could see it now—the slight sag of his shoulders, the subtle drag in his movements. Something wasn't right.
When they returned to the living room, she stepped in front of him before he could sit down. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly, studying him closely.
Ethan scoffed lightly, waving off her concern as he sank onto the couch. "I'm fine, Elena."
But he wasn't. As he settled into the cushions, her eyes caught the faint spread of sweat across his forehead, the way his breathing seemed shallower than usual. She stepped closer, her concern overriding her hesitation. "You don't look fine."
Ethan chuckled, though the sound lacked its usual strength. "You worry too much."
She lowered herself onto the edge of the coffee table in front of him, her gaze searching his. "And you don't worry enough."
He didn't argue, just shook his head softly, the humor lingering faintly in his expression. "You're relentless."
"And you're stubborn," she shot back, her voice steady but soft. She reached for the glass of water sitting on the end table, pressing it into his hand. "Drink this."
Ethan didn't resist, his smirk fading into something gentler as he took the glass. Their hands brushed briefly, and Luelle felt the warmth of his skin, the slight tremble in his movements. He didn't look well, but he wasn't fighting her attention either. That alone worried her.
As Ethan sipped the water, Luelle stayed close, her eyes lingering on his features—the faint shadow beneath his eyes, the tension in his jaw.
Ethan
Ethan leaned back against the couch, his body sinking into the cushions as the water she handed him cooled his parched throat. His hand trembled faintly as he set the empty glass down on the coffee table, but he doubted she noticed. Or maybe she did—Elena was sharp like that, always catching things no one else did. Except… this wasn't the Elena he was used to.
His gaze settled on her as she perched on the edge of the coffee table across from him, her hands resting lightly in her lap. She wasn't the composed, commanding CEO of EK Enterprises, the enigmatic figure whose reputation for being untouchable preceded her. No, this Elena looked… different. Her shoulders were tense, her expression drawn, her eyes carrying a weight he hadn't seen before. Concern. Worry.
For him.
It caught him off guard, that look in her eyes. He wasn't used to anyone looking at him like that—like his well-being mattered beyond the obligations of politics and alliances. Her guard was down in a way he'd never seen before, and it unsettled him as much as it intrigued him.
He could tell she was trying to compose herself, her lips pressing together as though she was holding back words she wasn't sure she should say. But her mask had slipped, just enough for him to see the vulnerability beneath. And somehow, that vulnerability made her feel more real, more human, than she'd ever seemed before.
"You don't have to hover, you know," he said softly, though his voice came out weaker than he'd intended. He tried for a smirk to lighten the moment, but the effort fell short. "I'm not going to keel over just yet."
Her brows furrowed slightly, and she tilted her head, her gaze searching his face. "You don't look well, Ethan," she said, her voice quieter, softer than he expected. "You're not fine, no matter what you say."
He let out a breath, leaning his head back against the couch. "You worry too much."
"And you don't worry enough," she shot back, her tone steady but laced with something gentler. Her hand reached for the glass again, and though he had already drained it, she held it like she wasn't ready to let the moment go. "You're not invincible, you know."
The corner of his mouth twitched, a flicker of amusement breaking through his fatigue. "No one's ever accused me of that."
Elena—or rather, the woman in front of him who felt nothing like the Elena he knew—gave him a look. It wasn't the sharp, calculated glance she usually wielded to dismantle boardrooms and negotiations. It was softer, uncertain, almost hesitant. He didn't know what to make of it, but he felt something shift in the air between them.
For a moment, he just watched her. The way her hands fidgeted slightly with the glass. The way her eyes kept darting over his face, like she was cataloging every shadow, every bead of sweat that betrayed his condition. She looked unsettled, worried—not for herself, but for him. And he couldn't blame her. Her life was in danger, after all. It made sense that she would feel on edge.
But it wasn't just worry. She looked… vulnerable. Not the tough, commanding woman who always seemed five steps ahead of everyone else. Not the bossy, larger-than-life presence who could command a room with a single glance. No, in this moment, she seemed so unlike the Elena he thought he knew.
And somehow, that thought softened something inside him, something he hadn't felt in weeks—not since waking up in the hospital, the memories of Luelle crashing over him like a tidal wave. The grief, the loss, the haunting weight of remembering her after all these years had settled over him like a shroud. But now, as he looked at the woman sitting across from him, so human, so unguarded, some of that sadness ebbed.
She didn't remind him of Luelle—not directly. But there was something in her vulnerability, in the way she looked at him like he wasn't just the heir to the Dominion, but a person worth worrying about, that made him feel… lighter. Less alone. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight in his chest eased, just a little.
Ethan leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he glanced up at her. "I'm fine, Elena," he said again, his voice softer this time, less defensive. "You don't have to worry."
But she didn't look convinced. If anything, her concern only deepened. And he didn't push her away. Not this time.