Chapter 24: A Perfect Match
2235words
I pushed against him, afraid someone might see us. This was broad daylight, in public—it would be mortifying if anyone saw.
But the more I pushed, the tighter he held me.
My slender waist was pressed against his hard abs, my feet barely touching the ground, only my toes providing minimal support.
I clutched his wool sweater tightly, eyes closed, afraid to look at our surroundings or at him.
I lightly patted his chest, but his kiss only grew more passionate.
One hand held the back of my head, making our kiss even more intimate.
His taste was fresh with a hint of sweetness.
I melted, my lips parting as a wave of heat and sweetness invaded. I couldn't help but moan softly.
I was completely lost, feeling addicted, experiencing a sense of euphoria like soaring through the clouds.
...
"That couple is making out. As if Ethan would be doing something like that for you to see—what kind of beast would he be?!" Noah joked.
Noah pulled Marcus away, his eyes glancing toward the rock.
He paused for a moment, then froze.
Great, if Ethan heard that, his wallet would be in trouble.
Hmph, beast—
"It really looks like him! Look..." Marcus wouldn't stop talking.
Noah dragged him away.
"Marcus, you should find yourself a girlfriend," Claire teased.
They gradually moved away.
Ethan reluctantly released my lips.
By now, my face was flushed, my eyes filled with desire, my breathing intimate, my body soft against his chest, my legs barely supporting me.
His kissing skills had improved. It seemed that in any field, he could master anything to perfection.
"Beast..." I muttered.
Ethan pinched my cheek, challenging me: "Yes."
His voice was husky, his hot fingertips tracing my cheek, instantly setting me on fire. I gripped his clothes tighter, steadying myself.
I did enjoy it. While I resisted the kiss, my subconscious mind was happy—I even responded, meeting his kiss.
I couldn't remember clearly anymore.
It seemed my conscious thoughts and physical pleasure had no connection. My mind resisted while my body drew closer.
I stepped back, away from his embrace.
Ethan's lips curled into a smile as he looked at my kiss-swollen lips. His thumb traced the corner of my mouth.
"Smudged."
"I'll fix it myself." I turned away.
[Hey, Mom... mm... okay.] Ethan took a call behind me.
On our way back:
"Mom says we're eating out tonight," Ethan said with a cryptic smile.
"Okay."
Some mother Sophia was! Not calling her daughter, but calling her new son-in-law instead—she really gave me no face.
"I hear your good friends will be there too."
"What?" I was surprised. My friends?
"Emma will be there." His expressive eyes peered through his glasses, revealing nothing of his feelings.
Emma...
So he had heard everything on the balcony?!
"Oh..."
My face flushed again. I walked behind him, not daring to walk beside him.
He walked ahead with his hands in his pockets, eyebrows slightly raised, seemingly in a good mood.
—
In a private room at an upscale Paris restaurant:
We arrived ten minutes late because I had gotten my pants dirty.
"Sorry to keep you beautiful ladies waiting!" Sophia entered the room first.
"Hello, Sophia!" Three beautiful women sat at the table, chatting happily with Sophia.
Their relationship was quite good. Except for clubbing and picking up guys, they included me in almost everything.
Ethan and I followed closely behind.
"Our little sister is back! And she's brought a gentleman with her!"
A fashionably dressed woman with black wavy hair teased.
"Haha, I hope you bring one tomorrow too!"
I awkwardly took his hand and led him to a seat.
"I don't want that kind of blessing!"
The marriage-phobic woman quickly deflected.
"My friend loves to joke. Please don't mind her."
I looked at him uncomfortably. This seemed like an apology for what I'd said on the balcony last night.
"It's fine. I don't mind."
Ethan's rare smile made me feel like I was seeing a different CEO than the one I knew.
"That's good." I tried to calm myself. "Let me introduce everyone."
"Natalie, musician." I extended my hand.
The fashionable woman who had spoken earlier greeted him, and Ethan nodded in return.
"This is Kate, model."
Kate had delicate features with a unique charm. She wasn't talkative and simply nodded respectfully to Ethan.
"And," I took a deep breath, "Emma, fashion designer, my good friend."
Hearing this, Ethan first looked at Emma, then turned his gaze to me.
I knew that with Ethan's thought process, he had probably already made the connection.
However, he showed no particular reaction, which surprised both Emma and me.
Emma had sleek black hair and a slim, oval face. She was tall—about five-foot-seven—and dressed very fashionably.
"Hello, Ethan." Emma nodded, her expression somewhat awkward.
"Hello, Emma." Ethan nodded, paused for a moment, then said, "Thank you."
See? I knew he was clever.
What was he thanking her for? Only he knew!
Emma pressed her lips together, shifting her gaze from him to me, not daring to speak.
I held my forehead, looking utterly defeated.
Fortunately, no one else seemed to notice anything unusual.
The food arrived quickly. We chatted happily, with Ethan occasionally joining in, but mostly he focused on serving me dishes—all my favorites.
He even skillfully peeled shrimp for me, removing all the shells.
Watching his refined, capable movements, I was taken aback, a ripple of attraction spreading through me.
Dinner was delightful.
Ethan went to the garage to get the car while we waited outside the restaurant.
"Thank you!" Natalie held up a gift bag, waving it in front of me.
"Hmm?" I linked arms with Sophia, confused. I was still wondering why they all had gifts except me.
Sophia smiled secretly but said nothing.
"Don't tell me you didn't know?" Natalie leaned in, her face full of gossip.
"No way!" Even the usually quiet Kate joined in. "These were sent by the 'Mrs.' We each got one!"
Mrs...
"Claire delivered them," Emma gave me a meaningful look. "Said it was to apologize for being late."
"Hehe..." The women giggled behind their hands, while my heart pounded.
He really thought of everything.
"Girl, your whirlwind marriage was spot on!" Emma teased.
I'm not someone who easily approves of others. I'm not emotional.
When Jackson betrayed me, I gave myself a month to process before taking revenge. I thought I was being rational.
But when it came to this sudden marriage, I seemed hasty.
Just because we slept together, after two door-breaking incidents, I had unreservedly chosen this man.
I kept questioning myself: what makes a good match?
There was no perfect answer, but he seemed to fit the bill.
"What are you thinking about?"
Ethan emerged from the bathroom in loose silk pajamas, his hair still dripping, his frameless glasses slightly fogged, making his eyes unreadable.
I sat on the bed, hugging a pillow, lost in thought.
"Don't you have anything to ask me?"
"I do." Ethan tossed the towel onto a chair, where it hung perfectly.
"What?"
"Is my gift to Sophia too simple?"
"Huh?"
Before I could process his question, Ethan had sat down beside me, his long arm resting on the headboard behind me, seemingly about to encircle me.
"I left a card with Mom today. I'm worried it's not enough to express my appreciation..."
"Wait..." I interrupted him. "You don't have any other questions?"
Could this man be completely unaware of my friends, or did he not recognize them at all?
His profile was sharply defined, his high, straight nose supporting frameless glasses that reflected the room's intimate lighting.
His thin lips pressed together, his deep eyes looking at me. "I do."
I felt his breathing become heavy and irregular, his strong masculine scent overpowering the fresh shower gel fragrance on my skin.
"Is it over?" His gaze fell to the area beneath my blanket.
"..."
My steady heartbeat suddenly became chaotic. I chose not to speak, slowly moving under the covers, clutching the pillow tightly.
Damn man, focus on your career! Don't let women cloud your judgment!
But later, whenever I surrendered to his passionate groans, I realized he might just be that kind of person—focused on his career while also focused on me.
After getting a taste, he would take me in the office during work hours and all over the house after work. I hadn't expected this.
Everyone said he was the epitome of abstinence. Abstinence? What abstinence?
The night was difficult to endure, especially with a temptation beside you that you couldn't act on.
He had been suffering from insomnia for several days.
The next day, I wore the coat Emma had sent over the night before. It was custom-made, with a loose waist, special collar decorations, and sleeves with distinct color transitions.
"That outfit is Confessions' work."
Ethan stood tall and straight at the door, his gaze fixed on me.
I hesitated, laughing nervously. "You're mistaken."
His gaze moved from my clothes to my clear eyes.
I knew he was trying to determine if I was telling the truth.
He was an excellent detective, always catching subtle details when others weren't paying attention.
"I'm not mistaken. She wore this exact design in her latest video." His eyes were sharp and penetrating.
"Emma sent it. I don't know anything about it. She just told me to wear it." I paused, tugging at the collar. "I'll ask her later if there's any connection to Confessions."
"Don't force it. Your friend might be caught in the middle. We can try other approaches."
"Okay." I felt relieved inside.
As soon as we stepped out, we saw Claire waiting at the door.
"Ethan, Alia."
"Mm." Ethan acknowledged.
We went upstairs to the hotel restaurant for breakfast.
It was still early. Noah and Ethan were discussing some documents, and Claire had gone to get coffee.
Marcus, sitting across from me, placed some of his scrambled eggs on my plate.
"I took too much. You're not eating much—have some. You'll be hungry later at the fashion show."
I felt awkward, glancing discreetly at Ethan beside me, who was still focused on the documents with Noah.
"I don't like scrambled eggs."
I wanted to return them, but he had used his own fork, and I only had one utensil.
"Don't waste food. I like them."
Ethan, who had somehow appeared beside me, picked up his fork and ate the eggs in one bite, then returned to the documents.
However, his hand that had put down the fork reached under the table and took hold of mine, which was resting on my knee.
This man couldn't even eat breakfast without being mischievous. He looked so proper in public, but was actually quite the scoundrel.
I didn't dare move, eating my breakfast quietly.
Marcus laughed awkwardly. "Ethan is really down-to-earth."
I smirked. That might not be the case—if you dared to go any further, you might end up six feet under.
"Claire, send us our seating assignments," Noah said, closing his documents and starting to eat.
"Already done."
Claire's work was impeccable. Despite her short stature and ordinary appearance, she was meticulous and thorough, especially in certain situations.
Our seats were all in the front row, in the center. I was on the left, followed by Ethan, Noah, Claire, and finally Marcus.
The fashion show started at nine. After breakfast, we arrived at the entrance for check-in at eight.
The entrance was already crowded with celebrities and influencers, with media and photographers capturing every moment.
We presented our invitations and entered the venue.
"Ethan, can we look around on our own?" I asked, pressing my lips together with a sincere expression.
Ethan glanced at our earnest faces and nodded.
With his permission, everyone dispersed, except for Claire who remained by Ethan's side.
Ethan watched as my playful expression shifted to something more composed, then looked away.
"You go too." He dismissed Claire and began exploring the area.
I wandered around nearby, entered the restroom, then casually walked into a corridor, passed through it, and entered the backstage area at the far end of the venue.
All of this fell under Ethan's keen gaze.
He saw me hurriedly walking down the corridor.
"Excuse me, sir. Please show your staff badge."
Ethan, following not far behind me, was stopped by two security guards at the corridor.
"Staff badge?" he asked in fluent French, his deep gaze following me as I disappeared around the corner.
"Without a staff badge, you can't enter, sir. Guests are restricted to the lobby and main hall," the guard explained politely, not being difficult.
Ethan paused, then asked, "What's back there?"
"The designers' and models' backstage area."
"I have a friend inside. Could you ask them to come out and meet me?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but no one without a staff badge is allowed in."
He nodded, thanked them, and left.
The designers' and models' area was strictly controlled. Staff badges had numbered codes and photos—ordinary people couldn't get in.
He took out his phone and called me.
[Where are you?]
[I'm in the restroom. Don't wait for me.]
Ethan raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smile. He made a sound of acknowledgment and hung up.
Interesting!
(Thank you for reading! Due to length limitations, Season One ends here.)
