Chapter 9 Confessions and Temptations
Camellia: POV
Mia's cheeks turned bright red. "What? No! That's—I mean—he's just a family friend!"
She nervously stirred her drink, ice cubes clinking against the glass. "Besides, he's way too old for me."
I couldn't help but grin at how flustered she looked.
"Really? Nothing there at all?" I leaned in, dropping my voice to a whisper. "Come on, you can tell me. I won't say anything."
Mia's eyes darted around the café like Nathan might pop up at any second.
Her voice got quieter, more vulnerable.
"Cam, please don't tell anyone." She bit her lip, twisting a piece of hair around her finger. "It's just... okay, maybe a little..."
"I knew it!" I whispered.
"It's his fault for being so nice to me," she said, the words spilling out now. "He's not just nice, he's gorgeous. And smart. And successful. And when I'm around him, every guy my age just seems so... immature."
I nodded, liking this regular family gossip—I never had any of that growing up.
"I know he's older," Mia went on, gesturing with her hands, "but he's got his life together. The guys at school are just boys. They have no clue what they want. Nathan knows exactly who he is."
"Look at our little Mia, all grown up," I teased, squeezing her hand.
Her sweetness made me feel something I thought had died years ago.
In my world, showing real feelings could get you destroyed. But Mia's innocent crush reminded me that not everything had to be a chess move.
"Anyway," she said, clearly wanting to change topics, "tell me about your company. You haven't said a word about NexaCore since I got here."
I waved it off. "Nothing exciting. Same old startup chaos."
"Mom says you're like a genius with computer stuff."
"Your mom thinks I walk on water," I said, though Jennifer believing in me had kept me going more times than I could count.
We talked about her classes and art projects until the café started closing. Walking back to my place, my phone buzzed with a text from Ethan.
[Need to talk. Dinner tonight? Important stuff.]
I texted back a restaurant name.
If Ethan wanted to meet in person instead of just calling, something big was going down.
Four hours later, I was sitting across from Ethan at Aureole, tucked away in a corner where no one could hear us. The lighting was dim, and we were already on our third round of drinks.
"So what's this about?" I asked, sipping my martini.
Ethan nodded but seemed off, playing with his fork. "The emergency money is helping, but we're still screwed. Without real investment..."
He trailed off, just staring at his whiskey.
I took a deep breath. There was no easy way to say this, and he was going to find out anyway.
"Actually, there's something I need to tell you first," I said, setting my drink down. "I'm getting married. To Richard Bloom. In three weeks."
"This marriage can help our company survive," I continued.
Ethan's glass stopped halfway to his mouth. He just stared at me like I'd spoken in a foreign language.
"What?" His glass hit the table hard. "Why him? This came out of nowhere!"
"It's complicated."
"How is it complicated? The guy's a spoiled rich boy pretending to be a businessman." His voice got louder, making people look over.
"Keep it down," I said.
"Obviously," Ethan said sarcastically. "What happened to the Camellia who said she'd never let some guy control her life? The one who swore off relationships after seeing what your dad did to your mom?"
That stung. "This isn't about feelings, Ethan. It's about staying alive."
"Staying alive?"
"The company—our company—needs this. Think of it like a merger." I kept my voice flat, businesslike. "Sometimes marriage is just another type of deal."
Ethan looked like I'd slapped him. "So you don't believe in love at all?"
I shrugged. "Love's a luxury I can't afford right now."
The waiter brought our food, giving us a break from the tension. When he left, Ethan downed half his drink, then finished it.
"So I guess I never had a shot then?" he asked, trying to sound casual but not looking at me.
I laughed, thinking he was trying to lighten things up. "Don't be ridiculous. We've been business partners forever."
"That's not what I meant."
Something in his voice made me look up fast.
Ethan was staring at me with this look I'd never seen before.
"If you're gonna marry someone you don't love anyway," he said, words getting sloppy, "why not marry me? At least I actually give a damn about you."
I almost spit out my drink. "Ethan—"
"Richard's a piece of shit," he kept going, the alcohol making him bold. "I've been in love with you since Stanford, Camellia."
Everything else in the restaurant just disappeared. I felt like I'd been hit by a bus.
"You can't be serious," I said, gripping my glass so tight I thought it might break. "You never said anything—"
"How could I?" He laughed, but it sounded bitter. "You put up walls so high nobody could get through. I kept thinking someday you'd notice me... really notice me."
"I thought you liked sweet, nurturing types," I said weakly. "I'm not exactly—"
"I don't want sweet and nurturing. I want you. Smart, tough, unstoppable you."
I just stared at him, completely blindsided. Ethan—my reliable COO, my partner for years—had been carrying a torch for me this whole time? How did I miss something that huge?
"We need to go," I said suddenly, flagging down the waiter. "You're drunk."
The cab ride to Ethan's place was torture.
We sat there in silence while the city lights flashed by, and I could feel the tension crackling between us.
I kept my eyes glued to the window, but I was way too aware of him sitting right there.
I said, desperate to get back to safe territory. "We should prep for tomorrow's investor meeting—"
"Why do you always do that?" Ethan cut me off, his voice quiet. "Every time things get real, you immediately talk about work."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yeah, you do."
We pulled up to his building. I stayed firmly in my seat as Ethan opened the car door.
"Just... be careful going up, okay?" I said, not meeting his eyes.
But instead of walking away, Ethan closed the door and moved around to my side of the cab. Before I could react, he opened my door and stepped close—too close. I was trapped between him and the car, the cool metal against my back while heat radiated off his body.
"Ethan, what are you—"
"I've waited too long," he said, his voice rough. "Watching you shut everyone out, building your walls higher and higher..."
His hands came up to brace against the car on either side of me, caging me in. My heart was pounding as he leaned closer, his face inches from mine.
"Wouldn't it be better with me?" he asked quietly, his breath warm against my skin. "Haven't I always been good to you?