Chapter 263 Unspoken Currents

Chapter 263 Unspoken Currents
A week had passed since Millie’s lunch with Rose at the Corner Nook, since the aching sound of Evan’s voice in that recording had seared itself into her mind. His confession played on a loop, inescapable, stirring feelings she’d buried and questions she’d refused to face. This shadowed her daily routines.
Millie stepped out of the shower, steam curling around her, her skin damp as she wrapped a towel around herself. She padded into the bedroom.
The door opened, and Ethan strode in, his suit crisp, his dark hair slightly tousled. He crossed the room in quick strides, pulling her into a kiss, his lips firm and possessive but brief. Millie’s hands rested lightly on his chest, her response automatic yet distant.
“Pack your bags,” Ethan said, stepping back. “I’ll be gone a week, and you’re coming along.”
Millie blinked. “A week?” she asked, more curious than excited.
“Yes,” Ethan replied, his hand brushing her arm. “I’d starve without you, so you’re coming with me.”
She smiled faintly. “Where are we going?” she asked, trying to muster interest.
Ethan’s smile widened, but his eyes were already drifting, his mind half on business. “Cheri’s arranging the trip. I’ll tell you when it’s set. There’s a birthday party in Greece—my associate’s daughter, sweet sixteen. Why don’t you go shopping this afternoon for new bikinis?”
Millie nodded faintly. “Sure,” she said, the idea of Greece—sunlit beaches, glittering seas—failing to spark the excitement Ethan expected.
Ethan’s gaze lingered on her. He reached out, deftly untying her towel, letting it fall to the floor. Millie stood naked, her breath catching under his scrutiny. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, nibbling lightly.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice teasing, “you make it so damn hard to be on time.” But then he pulled back, his smile wicked, and headed for the door. “I’ll be back for lunch. Don’t bother covering that beauty up,” he said, already halfway out.
The door clicked shut, and Millie stood alone. She didn’t move for a moment, her skin prickling in the cool air. She bent to pick up the towel, draping it over a chair, and crossed to the dresser, her eyes falling on the credit card Ethan had given her months ago.
Shopping for bikinis for a trip she didn’t care about felt pointless. Millie sank onto the bed, her thoughts drifting to Evan—his sacrifices, his love, and his belief that he was poison for her.
Hours passed, the house’s silence unbroken. Millie didn’t go shopping. She stayed in, wandering the halls, her phone untouched. Lunchtime came and went, and Ethan didn’t return. Instead, her phone buzzed with a voicemail, his voice brisk but apologetic: “Got held up with another associate. I’ll see you at dinner, sweetheart.”
Millie played the message, then set the phone down, her gaze drifting to the window, where the spring sun hung high. Another promise delayed, another moment alone. Evan’s voice lingered, louder than Ethan’s, and she wondered what she was still holding onto—and what she was ready to let go of.
Night fell, the quiet deepening as the clock ticked past ten. Millie had eaten dinner alone, the dining room’s long table feeling emptier than usual, the clink of her fork against the plate her only company.
Now, she lay on the bed in their room, the covers pulled loosely over her, her eyes fixed on the ceiling’s blank expanse. She was thinking about the life she was living and what she truly wanted.
The door opened, and Ethan stepped in, his suit rumpled from a long day, his tie loosened, and a faint shadow of fatigue under his eyes. He was still adjusting to taking over Don Hugo’s place.
He paused, his gaze settling on Millie, her stillness catching his attention. “You’re still awake,” he said. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it over a chair. “Did you enjoy shopping today?”
Millie turned her head. “What’s your plan, Ethan?”
He unbuttoned his cuffs, his movements casual, but his eyes narrowed slightly, reading her tone. “We’ll be in New York for three days,” he said, “meeting some of my partners, reassuring them I’m not my father. The Italians want reassurance constantly. Then we’ll fly to Paris for—”
“Hmm,” Millie interrupted, sitting up, her hair falling loosely over her shoulders. “Can I ask you something?”
Ethan paused, one eyebrow lifting, his hands stilling on his shirt. “What is it?”
Millie’s gaze held his. “What do you think of a mundane life?”
Ethan’s lips twitched, amusement crossing his face, as if the question were absurd. “A mundane life?” he said with a dismissive tone. “You know me, Amelia, and the world I live in. Mundane isn’t for me.”
She didn’t smile. “But if you had a choice?”
Ethan’s expression shifted, the amusement fading, replaced by guarded curiosity. “I don’t know,” he said. He moved to the bed, sitting on its edge, his eyes studying her. “Why are you suddenly asking this?”