the mistake I made, just like Ryker said I should. Ethan should be relieved, grateful. Why, then, do I get the feeling he won't be?
I shrug off my feelings and thoughts and gobble up another spoonful of gnocchi. Didn't I say I'd savor this experience? So why am I ruining it?
I take a sip of water - I opted not to drink wine - and look around. I can see the gardens from here, and the rooftops of the Old Town, and the church tower, and the mountains in the distance hidden beneath a veil of clouds. I take all of them in with a deep breath and commit them to memory.
I'm never going to forget these views.
A breeze blows. It carries the smell of roses and sends the strands of hair that have come loose from my ponytail against my cheek. I close my eyes as I savor the sweet scent. When I open them, I find Ethan looking at me, a smile in his gaze. My heart skips a beat. I blush.
"What?" I ask him as I tuck the loose strands behind my ear.
"Nothing," he answers before looking away and taking a sip from his glass of his wine.
But I've already seen that look. And something tells me it's not nothing. It's not just amusement. It's joy and warmth and... affection?
Fresh hope springs in my chest. What if Ethan is actually in love with me?
He said he's like Asher, but I know he's not. He wouldn't sleep with a woman unless he somehow cared about her, even if the woman in question is his assistant. Or is it especially if the woman in question is his assistant? What if that's why he didn't mind breaking the rules - because he loves me?
Ryker said Ethan would never allow himself to feel anything for me, but what if he's wrong? Even brothers don't know each other completely.
"What?" Ethan asks me.
I realize I've been staring at him.
I want to ask him if he feels anything for me, if there's a chance that what we have is more than just great sex. I'm dying to know. But again, my fear gets in the way. What if I'm just being presumptuous? What if Ethan says no? Then I'd be embarrassed, hurt. I'd have to end whatever this is between us right now.
"Nothing," I give him the same answer he gave me.
We go back to eating in silence, although this time it feels a little awkward. I wish Ethan would say something.
The rumble of children's laughter breaks the silence. I turn my head and see a family of four occupying a nearby table. The two children - two young girls who seem just a year apart and look so alike they could almost pass off as twins - are both holding teddy bears, their other arms wrapped around each other. They're in their own world, laughing at a joke only the two of them know. Their mother tells them to be quiet as they sit down, but they continue to whisper and snicker.
I can't help but smile. It must be good to have a sister.
I notice Ethan looking at them, too. And smiling.
"You like kids, don't you?" I ask him.
"What makes you say that?" he asks me in turn.
"You're fascinated by those girls. You were upset when you made a little boy cry. Also, I remember one time, Sasha brought her son with her to the office and you gave him a pen."
Ethan shrugs. "Maybe I do. It doesn't mean I want to have them."
My eyebrows furrow. "Why not?"
"Because I'm not good with kids."
I snort. "Don't tell me you came to that conclusion just because you made one boy cry. Sasha's son liked you, remember?"
"Only because I gave him that pen. Before that, he looked terrified."
Ethan can be scary when he's at work. But that doesn't mean he's bad with kids.
Wait. Is that why he hasn't started a family?
"Doesn't your father want you to have kids?" I ask him.
"He does," Ethan admits. "But I don't. Not yet. I'm not ready."
"Because you think you're not good with kids?"
"Because I don't know the first thing about being a father," he confesses.
The confession takes me by surprise. Ethan is scared that he might screw up fatherhood? This from the man who runs a billion-dollar company, who knows how to earn the respect of his peers, the trust of his allies, the admiration of his employees? Then again, I did realize last night that as confident as Ethan