Chapter 72 A few Good Days
Driving was more than a pastime for Ethan, it was his way of reclaiming control. With his hands on the wheel and the growl of the engine under him, he dictated every turn, every surge of speed.
Beside him, Lena watched quietly. The adrenaline of their wild escape from the convoy still tingled in her veins, but Ethan's energy had shifted. Moments ago, he had looked alive, almost exhilarated, the corners of his mouth lifting with every reckless swerve. Now his jaw was set, his grip on the steering wheel taut, his gaze locked firmly on the road ahead as though it carried answers only he could see.
They had driven deep into the city, slipping through unfamiliar streets until the convoy that had tried to trail them was gone. The world outside blurred past in streaks of neon and streetlights, yet inside the car there was only silence, thick, weighted, almost suffocating.
Lena tilted her head, studying him. Ethan Sinclair always seemed untouchable, composed to the point of coldness, but here in the dim glow of the dashboard, there was something different in his expression. He looked like a man carrying more than he let anyone see.
Ethan looked different now, sad, almost weighed down by something invisible. His face, usually carved in confidence, carried a heaviness Lena hadn't seen before. She didn't say anything. Instead, she sat quietly, simply watching him, careful not to disturb whatever thoughts had claimed him.
As he checked the road, his eyes flicked around briefly to make sure of his direction, then suddenly landed on her. Caught under his gaze, Lena forced a small smile, though it felt stiff and out of place, as if she were intruding on a moment that wasn't hers to share. Ethan looked like he needed this, silence, space, the kind of solitude that driving gave him. It was as if the wheel and the open road were the only ways he could breathe freely, and she wasn't sure if she belonged in that picture.
Ethan's hands tightened briefly on the wheel before he glanced sideways at her, his mouth curving into a grin that felt almost foreign on him.
"You know," he began, voice lighter than usual, "I used to steal cars."
Lena blinked. "You... what?"
He laughed, a deep, unguarded sound. "Not just any cars. My grandfather's collection. I'd sneak out at night, hot-wire one, and just drive until the sun came up."
"My security team would chase me for hours," Ethan said, laughter slipping through his words. "Sirens off, headlights dimmed, like a ridiculous game of cat and mouse. And when they finally caught me, they'd all scramble to sneak the car back into the garage before my grandfather noticed it was gone. It was chaos, like watching grown men play musical chairs with Ferraris."
He smirked, shaking his head. "Once, though, we got caught. Max was standing right there when we pulled in. The men froze, all of them staring at each other, terrified to speak because they couldn't blame me. Not one of them dared. I still remember their faces." Ethan chuckled at the memory, the sound warm and unguarded. "So I just stepped forward and said I had a late practice. My grandfather bought it, or pretended to. Either way, the men were safe."
He laughed again, softer this time, almost to himself. "Looking back, I don't know how they didn't all quit."
Lena found herself laughing too, the sound bubbling out before she could stop it. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, Ethan Sinclair, the man who carried himself like he had never once broken a rule, talking about joyrides and near disasters like he was a reckless teenager.
She watched him closely, her eyes tracing the rare ease in his face, the way his shoulders loosened as he remembered. He felt less official, less untouchable, more... human. She leaned into the moment, laughing with him, offering little smiles that encouraged him to keep going.
What she couldn't admit, not even to herself, was how much she enjoyed seeing Ethan this way. Carefree. Almost boyish. A side of him she never thought existed, and one she wasn't ready to let go of just yet.
Ethan's smile lingered as he kept his eyes on the road, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "That wasn't the only time I drove them mad," he admitted, his tone almost boyish now. "Once, I slipped out with one of the cars and decided I'd had enough of the city. I drove straight into the countryside. just me and the open road. I thought I was free."
He laughed to himself. "Until the car ran out of gas. Middle of nowhere. I had no idea how to fill a tank, I'd never done it before. So, I sat on the hood like some spoiled idiot until the team found me two hours later. They were furious, but when we got back, I just told my grandfather I'd been out for fresh air."
The memory made him laugh again, an unpolished sound Lena had never heard from him before. It wasn't the cold, calculated man who commanded boardrooms; it was someone younger, freer, almost mischievous.
Lena couldn't stop watching him. Every story peeled away another layer, revealing a version of Ethan that felt so human, so real. She found herself laughing with him, not because the stories were funny, though they were, but because she loved seeing him this way. It was impossible to ignore the thought forming in her mind: there had to be more to Ethan Sinclair than what the world saw.
Their laughter lingered as the car rolled effortlessly down the private drive. For a moment, it felt like the night could stretch on forever, just the two of them sharing stories and stolen laughter. But Lena blinked in surprise when the tall gates of the Sinclair estate suddenly loomed ahead, Ethan's men already waiting diligently at their posts.
"Oh," she said softly, realizing where they were. "I didn't even notice we'd gotten home."
Ethan smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Guess you enjoyed the ride too much."
Lena laughed, nodding in acknowledgment. "Maybe I did."
Ethan glanced at her briefly before fixing his eyes back on the road. "Truth is... I did too," he said, his tone lighter, but with an edge of sincerity that lingered.
Lena turned, caught off guard. "You did?"
He nodded faintly, the corner of his mouth tugging in a half-smile. "Don't look so surprised. I don't usually let anyone ride with me when I drive, this is my thing. But tonight..." He paused, his fingers tightening slightly on the wheel as though searching for the right words. "I actually liked having company."
Her breath hitched at his admission. He hadn't looked at her when he said it, which somehow made it feel even more genuine. Lena smiled, warmth spreading through her chest as she turned back to the window, trying to hide just how much his words had gotten to her.
He pulled the car smoothly to a stop at the entrance, cutting the engine with practiced ease. Getting out, Ethan circled to Lena's side and opened her door himself, offering his hand. The simple gesture caught her off guard, and for a fleeting second, it felt like something far more intimate than mere courtesy.
Once she was out, Ethan gave a small nod toward the house. "Go on," he said quietly, his tone almost protective.
Lena glanced back at him, but he was already turning toward his men, his expression shifting back to something more composed, more like the Ethan she was used to. Still, the warmth of their ride clung to her as she walked inside, leaving him behind.