Chapter 118 I Have a Good Memory
Olivia's POV:
After I asked the question, I could feel Ethan's shoulder muscles tighten against mine. I didn't need to look at his face to know his expression had darkened.
I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I shouldn't have said that—at least not right now. Whatever else might be true, Ethan had done all of this for me.
Guilt crept through my chest as I rested my head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ethan," I whispered. "I didn't mean—"
"You're right," he said.
I jerked my head up, staring at him in shock.
Ethan's mouth curved slightly at the corner. "But what I'm thinking is that someday my Olivia will stand on her own. You'll become that radiant girl who shines brilliantly, walking beside me through whatever comes."
Something twisted painfully in my chest. I'd expected his temper, or perhaps cold silence. I hadn't prepared for this—for him to voice a belief in me that I barely held for myself.
He fell silent after that, driving with focused attention through the winding roads of Los Angeles. The car interior became a vacuum of quiet, with only our breathing marking the passage of time.
When we arrived at Reeding Waters, I followed Ethan into our bedroom. The sight of his unopened luggage by the closet suddenly hit me with clarity. Today, Ethan had flown in from overseas, enduring a ten-hour flight. He'd gone straight from the airport to my campus to pick me up. He'd taken me out, defended me when those people harassed me, and risked a friendship to protect my dignity.
And all I'd thought about was how his actions might cause problems for me later.
My chest ached with a heaviness that made it hard to breathe. Without thinking, I spun around and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face against his chest.
"We should go down for dinner," he said, his hand moving to stroke my hair. "Then I'll take care of you."
I bit his chest lightly through his shirt, then pressed my face deeper into his embrace.
Ethan laughed softly. "Behave, sweetheart. Let's eat first, then you can bite me all you want."
After dinner, Ethan went to his study to work. I headed to our bedroom and sat in the reading chair by the window with a book. Through the window, I could see the empty lawn stretching into the darkness.
I thought about planting osmanthus trees there—just two or three. Their sweet fragrance would be perfect, not too strong but just enough.
I sat in the soft lamplight, my hair loose around my shoulders, when I heard footsteps. I turned to see Ethan in the doorway with his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up.
"Finished with work?" I asked, smiling at him.
He crossed the room in a few strides and leaned down, enveloping me in his arms. His face pressed against my neck, and he drew in a deep breath.
The warmth of his breath against my skin made me squirm. "That tickles," I protested, pushing at his chest. "Stop it."
Ethan braced his hands on the armrests, arching his back as he leaned over me. "I haven't even started yet," he said, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone. "How can you ask me to stop?"
I blushed at his innuendo, attempting to kick him lightly, but he caught my ankle before I made contact. He lifted my leg, turning his head to press his teeth gently against the top of my foot.
"Ethan!" I gasped, heat rushing to my face. I bit my lip, caught between embarrassment and something else entirely as I looked at him.
Ethan's eyes darkened as he swallowed hard. "Yes, Olivia?" His voice was raspy with want.
The sound of my name on his lips, spoken with such need, made my heartbeat accelerate wildly, disrupting my breathing rhythm.
In one fluid motion, he scooped me into his arms. The sudden weightlessness startled me, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck.
Ethan adjusted his hold, lifting me slightly. "Good," he said with a smirk. "You've gained a little weight."
"I have not!" I protested quickly. "I don't feel any heavier."
The corner of his mouth quirked up, his expression turning mischievous and seductive. "It's in all the right places," he murmured. "And my hands are the perfect measuring tools."
I smacked his shoulder repeatedly. "You're impossible."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "If my little sweetheart already thinks I'm bad, I might as well live up to the accusation."
I squirmed in his arms. "Put me down."
He refused, holding me tighter as he carried me to the balcony. Together, we looked out at the expansive lawn below, bathed in soft moonlight.
"There." I pointed to a section of the lawn. "Could we plant a few osmanthus trees right there?"
Ethan placed a soft kiss on my lips. "Of course we can. This is your home—everything here is yours to decide."
A flood of warmth swept through me, rising until it reached my eyes, blurring my vision with unexpected tears.
Home.
Such a simple word, yet it felt so foreign to me. Despite the fact that this estate bore my name in its way, I had never truly thought of it as my home. Deep down, I always knew I was just passing through, that someday I would leave.
Yet Ethan called it my home. Said everything was for me to decide.
In my entire life, when had I ever truly decided anything? Not my birth, not who I fell in love with.
Ethan shifted me in his arms, freeing one hand to wipe away a tear that escaped. "Don't cry," he said softly. "Your eyes will be too swollen to attend the exhibition tomorrow."
I sniffled, struggling to control my emotions. "What exhibition?"
Ethan tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his large hand lingering on my cheek. "Mr. Knight's private collection," he explained, his voice gentle. "He's hosting an exhibition at his personal museum. I thought we'd stop by tomorrow."
I buried my face against Ethan's shoulder, using his shirt to dab at my nose. When I looked up, I asked, "Which Knight?"
Ethan glanced at the damp spot on his shoulder with amusement, then playfully pinched the tip of my nose. "The Knight who collects antiquities, of course."
I remembered now. Walter had mentioned that Ethan had a friend who was an antique collecting expert with his own private museum. Even in Los Angeles, where power players were as common as palm trees, this particular Knight commanded enough respect to be addressed as "Mr. Knight" by everyone.
"I thought it was Luke's boss. He is also a Mr. Knight."
Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly. "Which Luke?"
"The gas station attendant from that night..." My voice trailed off as Ethan's arm around me suddenly tightened. "Well, I remember things clearly."
His smile deepened, his face moving closer to mine. "Then tell me," he murmured against my lips, "what's my favorite position with you?"