Chapter 22: Let's Try
3448words
"Knock knock—"
I patted my cheeks, composed myself, and opened the door.
Ethan's imposing figure stood before me.
"Hungry? Let's get something to eat."
He wore a black wool coat over a white sweater, looking tall and sophisticated.
It was only then that I realized we were dressed similarly—black wool coats with white sweaters or, in my case, a white sweater dress.
"Mm." My voice had become noticeably quieter.
Having received my response, Ethan turned and headed for the exit.
I slowly walked forward and took his hand. To my surprise, Ethan placed both our hands into his coat pocket, holding mine firmly inside.
Hot! So hot!
Who knew that even in cold weather without floor heating, it could be this warm? Whew!
Ethan had rented a car. The rental company's staff delivered the keys and left. Only when he helped me into the passenger seat did he finally let go of my hand.
Paris was experiencing a rare snowfall. The car was wonderfully warm, keeping my blush from subsiding. My face remained flushed like a newborn baby's.
In the car, neither of us spoke until...
The radio announcer's voice: [Paris welcomes its first snow of the year. This scene reminds me of an old Chinese saying I once heard in a drama: "If we share the snow today, we share a lifetime together..."]
"He's wrong," Ethan said.
"Hmm?"
I was startled and turned to look at him.
The car had stopped at a red light.
He turned to me and said, "White hair cannot be replaced by snow. Meeting you is the greatest fortune."
So the ice cube could speak romantic words after all.
I found myself staring at him, momentarily lost.
Ethan parked the car in a lot near the city center.
"Where are we eating?"
"You'll see."
I tried to unbuckle my seatbelt but couldn't manage it. I was about to call Ethan, but he had already gotten out of the car.
The passenger door opened, letting in a rush of cold air.
I looked up at him helplessly. "It's stuck."
Ethan paused, then placed one hand on the door frame and leaned in to fiddle with the seatbelt.
I didn't dare move. As he leaned in, his distinctive cedar and mint scent enveloped me with his breath.
"To kiss or not to kiss?" The question popped into my mind.
Sinful thoughts...
"Click!" The seatbelt released.
"There..." Ethan was about to straighten up when he found his arm caught in my grip.
He turned his head, and our eyes met.
The mingling of our breaths, two bodies at 98.6 degrees colliding—enough to make the air boil.
The atmosphere grew thick with tension, intimacy building.
I covered his eyes with my hand and, without hesitation, leaned forward to place a light kiss on his cold lips.
Ethan froze, seeing only darkness as a warm sensation spread across his cold lips.
His Adam's apple bobbed, his heavy breath warming my neck, his grip on the car door tightening.
Before he could savor the moment, I slowly lowered my hand and pushed him away.
Ethan tactfully stepped back, though his gaze remained fixed on me.
I got out of the car.
We were both silent, as if nothing had happened.
Ethan looked at my hands tucked in my pockets, his own hanging awkwardly at his sides. He then put his arm around my shoulders as we walked toward a nearby alley.
I glanced at the hand on my shoulder, my previously calmed heart beginning to race again.
We walked side by side down the street, passersby coming and going.
"Are they filming a movie? I haven't seen such a perfectly matched couple in ages."
"There aren't any cameras around. How come people this good-looking haven't been scouted as models?"
...
Ethan led me to an old restaurant.
"Table for two, please."
"Right this way!"
"You speak French?" I was surprised.
"No, just learned a few phrases." Ethan found a table and sat down. "Don't you speak it? At least enough not to get scammed."
"How did you know about this place?" I tried to make conversation.
"My mother said she and your mother used to come here often."
He rinsed the dishes with hot water before placing them in front of me.
"Oh."
This old restaurant had been around for many years. I often visited with Sophia, and Elizabeth was always brought here once or twice whenever she visited. It made sense that he would know about it.
Ethan ordered several dishes—all my favorites—and even the dipping sauce was exactly how I liked it.
I suspected he might have gotten intel from Noah, but I had no proof.
During the meal, he was extremely gentlemanly, treating me like a long-time lover. Though his movements were somewhat awkward, it was clear he was trying his best.
I didn't eat much, perhaps due to jet lag or something else. My whole body felt soft and tired.
Ethan had prepared many dishes for me that I couldn't finish. In the end, he ate everything without complaint.
After dinner, we wandered around a shopping mall for a long time because it was snowing with rain—the weather was quite bad.
Plus, Ethan had called someone to take the car away, so we had to use a ride-hailing app.
While waiting for our ride outside the mall, we stood side by side.
"You don't look well."
Ethan noticed my discomfort, his arm around my shoulders tightening slightly.
"Mm, my stomach feels a bit off." I rested my head against his chest.
He looked down at me, like I was a little lamb. He chuckled softly and opened his coat, wrapping me inside it.
I looked up at him, then quickly averted my gaze.
What was this feeling?
I felt like I was drowning in it!
His body temperature had always been high, and with the added warmth of his coat, it felt even more intense.
Just a few days ago, I had been trapped in Jackson's web of lies, unable to escape.
In Jackson's mind, taking me to high-end restaurants, dressing me in expensive clothes, and bringing me to exclusive clubs was his way of helping me fit into his luxurious lifestyle.
But the more he did this, the more I felt the distance between us.
Ethan was different. He was willing to come to these ordinary places, sit with me in small restaurants, and eat simple home-cooked meals.
We returned to the hotel at ten-thirty.
I showered first, then got into bed.
By the time Ethan finished his shower and came out, I was already asleep.
Unlike the first night, tonight I slept in the middle of the bed. My hands, which usually clutched something while I slept, were unusually relaxed.
He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at my perfect profile, reaching out to touch my forehead—my temperature was normal.
Ethan didn't sleep. He sat quietly by the bed, watching me curled up, hugging a pillow, my golden curls spread across the cream-colored pillow like a porcelain doll.
There were only two pillows on the bed—one under my head, one in my arms.
He smiled softly, wanting to continue watching, but was interrupted by the buzzing of a phone.
My phone—an unknown number.
He picked it up and looked at it. The buzzing stopped, but the screen showed four missed calls, all from the same person.
He turned off the bedside lamp, leaving only the floor lamp on, and took my phone out to the balcony.
The phone buzzed again. He answered.
"Alia, don't hang up!" Jackson's voice.
Ethan's lips curled into a slight smile, but he remained silent.
"Alia, you finally answered! I'm sorry about that night! I was drunk! I truly didn't know I would do something so despicable! I've been punished for it!
Alia, Olivia and I are over. I don't care what's going on between you and Ethan—can you please not leave me?"
Jackson's tone was pitiful, pathetically so.
He was probably still in the hospital—the phone picked up the faint sound of nurses asking questions. His voice was shaky; he clearly hadn't recovered well.
"Mr. Price." Ethan finally spoke.
Hearing a man's voice, Jackson panicked. He seemed to jump up from his bed, tearing his wound open. He hissed in pain, followed by agonized groans.
"Who are you? Where's Alia? Why do you have her phone..."
"Mr. Price." Ethan cut off his barrage of questions.
Jackson fell silent. He could hear the calm in the other man's voice—a calmness that inspired fear, forcing him to control his temper to maintain some semblance of dignity.
He hadn't expected Alia to have someone by her side who could make others feel so intimidated with just his voice.
"She's tired. Just fell asleep."
These few words spoke volumes, completely devastating Jackson.
"Who are you?! What's your relationship with her?! Alia never lets anyone into her bedroom!"
"Son! Son! Are you talking to that bitch again..."
The sound of hurried high heels echoed through the closed room.
"Ow! The wound opened again..."
"Doctor! Doctor..."
Chaos erupted on the other end.
"Would Mr. Price like to know?" Ethan replied calmly, turning back into the room.
"Everyone shut up!" Jackson roared, and his end suddenly went quiet.
Ethan placed the phone on the nightstand without hanging up.
He leaned over, looking at the small woman before him, his large hand gently caressing her baby-like face as he softly called:
"Alia..."
"Mm..." I responded drowsily.
"...want..."
His single word caused tears to fall from Jackson's eyes.
I slowly opened my eyes to see Ethan's face close to mine. I was now fully awake.
"Mmm..."
Ethan kissed me, and immediately, Jackson's phone captured my sensual moan.
He glanced at the phone on the nightstand, closing his eyes in satisfaction.
One of his hands threaded through my hair, resting on the back of my head, holding me as his kiss deepened.
Before I could react or resist, the pleasure coursing through my body made me surrender to Ethan's caresses.
His hands roamed beneath the covers.
"...Mmm...don't..."
I grabbed his hands under the blanket. My nervous pleas sounded like teasing to their ears.
"Mm..."
Ethan's husky voice came through the phone.
Jackson hung up with trembling hands, his knuckles white from gripping the phone, his jaw clenched, his eyes bloodshot...
In his mind, I had always been modest and proper, never getting too close to any man. Even with him—my boyfriend of five years—we had only held hands, and sometimes even that required permission.
Two years of college, two years long-distance, and one year together—five years of dating, and I had never crossed any boundaries.
If not for his family background, he might have thought I was from some aristocratic family or noble lineage.
And now, I was in another man's arms, my voice sensual and alluring. Even without being present, the sounds over the phone made Jackson blush.
Unable to imagine me in bed with another man, Jackson completely broke down. He hurled his tightly gripped phone against the wall, where it shattered into pieces.
...
"...Ethan"
I rationally pushed him off me, my hands burning against his chest, my body trembling, my breathing quickened by his actions.
Even through his glasses, Ethan couldn't hide the desire in his eyes.
I didn't understand why he had suddenly become so passionate. He had been such a gentleman today—was he actually a beast when it came to these matters?
Ethan swallowed hard and wiped the light sweat from my forehead.
"...I'm sorry, I just wanted to kiss you. Nothing more."
I admit, I enjoyed it, but for some reason, I pushed him away.
So contradictory.
I remembered Emma's words: [Don't tell me you two haven't had a second round yet? Trust me, he looks like he'd be amazing...]
My face burned.
Later, as our relationship deepened, I discovered that my friend was right—he was indeed amazing.
During the day, he was elegant and composed, but at night, he retained the wildness of his youth—dominating and fierce.
He held nothing back, every part of him filled with an exciting, almost frightening intensity.
Ethan slowly sat up, turning away to fix the buttons that had somehow all come undone.
"You..." I sat up, cautiously saying, "Give me a little more time..."
"Okay."
I quickly tightened my disheveled clothes, put my pants back on, and went to the bathroom.
[Girl, why are you hesitating with a man that gorgeous? He says it was his initiative, but he's just saving your face. You made the first move, and he's taking responsibility. He's rich and skilled—why let him go? You're married anyway, so it's going to happen sooner or later!]
These self-reassurances flooded my mind.
At the very least, he wasn't as terrible as Jackson!
Hmph!
I made up my mind, unbuttoning the third button of my top to reveal my collarbone, awkwardly adjusting my clothes.
Let's try!
But just as I had prepared myself, I felt an unwelcome warm flow.
My period had arrived—could the timing be any worse?
I awkwardly left the bathroom and turned on the bedroom light.
Ethan was already lying in bed, though not asleep, just looking at his phone.
I opened the closet, searching for something, but couldn't find what I needed.
"What are you looking for?" Ethan put down his phone.
"..." I felt embarrassed as I closed the closet. "My monthly visitor arrived..."
"Your relative is visiting this late?"
That sounded exactly like something a clueless man would say.
"..."
After two seconds of silence, Ethan finally realized. He quickly got up, as if this item hadn't been on his checklist—he had forgotten that women deal with this.
"I'll go get..." he hesitated. "I'll go buy some."
He threw on his coat without even changing his clothes and walked out.
Less than ten minutes later, he returned.
I was waiting for him at the entrance.
His face was flushed from the cold wind, his breath visible in the air, his hair still wet with melting snow, his hands holding the black plastic bag stiffly.
I brushed the snow from his hair, warmed his cold face with my hands, took the bag and set it aside, then cupped his large hands in mine and breathed on them.
"You rushed out without even putting on more clothes."
At five-foot-six, I had to stand on tiptoe to barely reach his chin.
Ethan blushed, deliberately lowering himself to accommodate my actions.
His body quickly warmed up, his temperature rising rapidly.
I touched his cheek, wiped the water droplets from his eyelashes, and continued warming his face with my hands.
Ethan couldn't handle this unintentional teasing and turned his face away.
"Go take care of yourself first."
"Mm."
Worried he might catch cold, after I finished my business, I had him take another hot shower.
After all the commotion, we finally lay in bed together.
Both of us had our hands on top of the covers, lying straight as boards, so proper, so strange.
Jet lag, perhaps? Our eyes were wide open, unable to sleep.
We ended up sleeping until after ten the next morning.
Ethan still lay perfectly straight, his composure evident even in sleep, though his head had tilted toward me, his chin resting on top of my head.
As usual, I had draped myself over him, my arms around his chest, my head nestled in the crook of his neck, while his hand had somehow found its way around my waist.
He was awake but hadn't gotten up, quietly inhaling the scent of my hair, gently massaging my slender waist.
Buzz—
A phone vibrated.
I sighed in my sleep, slowly turning over to feel for the phone on the nightstand. Half-asleep, I swiped the green button by memory.
[Hello...] I mumbled.
[...] No response from the other end.
"Hmm? Wrong number?" I picked up the phone and opened my bleary eyes. "Old man?"
That was the name displayed on the screen. I didn't recall having any contacts by that name and suddenly realized this wasn't my phone.
I looked up at Ethan.
He looked down, our eyes meeting.
I slowly handed him the phone. His long fingers took it, our fingertips brushing in a moment that felt like dry kindling meeting fire, burning us both.
[Dad.]
As soon as he answered, the other end hung up.
Ethan made a sound and smiled.
I quickly got up and left the room.
After freshening up, Ethan had breakfast delivered—simple sandwiches and hot milk.
At eleven-thirty, after messaging Sophia, we set out.
We rented another car, though this one seemed more comfortable than the last.
Before getting in, Ethan went somewhere, and I waited in the car for a full ten minutes.
When he returned, he was slightly out of breath.
He closed the door, bringing in a wisp of cold air.
"Where did you go?"
I didn't understand. This CEO was in an unfamiliar place, couldn't understand the local dialect, and left without saying a word. If he'd been kidnapped, I'd have been in serious trouble.
He pulled a heat pack from his pocket.
"Are you cold?" I asked.
"For your stomach." He handed it to me.
"..."
"Take it," he pushed it forward, his eyes cold, as if instructing a child. "Or should I apply it for you?"
"My stomach doesn't hurt." I extended my gloved hand and took it anyway. "Fine..."
My periods had never been painful. Sophia had given me plenty of supplements since childhood, so while my flow was heavy, I'd never experienced cramps and had never used these things.
Where had he learned this?
Nevertheless, I obediently placed the heat pack on my abdomen, under my second layer of clothing.
Sophia lived in a small town in the suburbs of Paris. She had bought the place with her life savings. The house was large and filled with artistic touches. Her friends visited annually, especially Elizabeth.
"Don't wander off alone next time. Paris is generally safe, but some people aren't friendly," I said, looking ahead.
"Okay." He smiled.
Ethan didn't use navigation, and I only realized when we arrived at our destination.
He was very familiar with the routes here.
The car stopped beside the house. Warm sunlight streamed through the windows as Ethan unbuckled my seatbelt.
"Put your coat on before going outside." Ethan reached into the back seat for the coat I had taken off.
With the heat pack, my body was burning up. I didn't dare move much, fearing a flood would be unleashed.
After half an hour, I felt I could barely hold on.
Once I had my coat on and opened the passenger door, Ethan opened his door as well.
"Sophia! I'm back!" I called as I headed toward the house.
Ethan followed, carrying my bag.
"Still so impetuous!"
Sophia, with her golden hair, elegantly dressed in a fine wool coat, waited at the entrance.
I whispered something in her ear, then hurriedly ran inside.
"Mom." Ethan approached Sophia.
"Ethan, good to see you again!" Sophia greeted him affectionately. "Is Alia giving you trouble?"
"I'm afraid she hasn't had the chance."
They walked into the house together.
"That child, always so restless, never thinking before she speaks."
"It's charming."
As I rushed into the house, I looked back to see my bag hanging oddly from his shoulder.
Ethan caught my glance and handed me the bag.
For lunch, we had French cuisine.
Sophia and Ethan chatted happily. Ethan was well-mannered, articulate, and carried himself with gentlemanly grace.
I, on the other hand, felt like I was meeting the parents for the first time—completely tongue-tied.
"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" Sophia asked.
"You two seem to get along so well. Keep talking—once we're back in the States, you'll need an appointment to chat with my husband."
My appetite was much better than yesterday. I finished all the roasted meat and even ran out of vegetables.
Sophia went to the kitchen to bring more dishes.
Husband...
Ethan glanced at me as I licked my lips, leaving a trace of oil.
He frowned slightly and grabbed a napkin to wipe my mouth.
Sophia caught this moment and smiled secretly.
I bit my lip, my eyes wandering, still not used to this.
After lunch, I wanted to explore the city center. Sophia didn't want to accompany the young couple and was tired of those places anyway, so she recommended a few spots and urged us to go.
Ethan remained silent.
I didn't insist on her joining us.
Two people being awkward was enough—no need to drag in a third.
