Chapter 75 What Should I Do About Him?
I shifted uncomfortably on the plush sofa of our Brussels hotel suite, trying to gather my thoughts. How could I answer when I genuinely had no idea? The question had been haunting me for months.
"I honestly don't know," I admitted, forcing myself to maintain eye contact. "There are so many beautiful women in LA—women from film schools, dance academies, women with connections and social status who would fit into your world seamlessly." I paused, swallowing hard. "Why me? And why are you so... insistent on keeping me?"
He leaned forward, his imposing frame closing the distance between us, those dark eyes never leaving mine.
"Because..." he began, his voice dropping to that intimate tone that always sent shivers down my spine. His hand reached for mine, warm and surprisingly gentle.
The jarring ring of his phone shattered the moment. Ethan's jaw clenched in obvious annoyance as he glanced at the screen.
"I need to take this," he said, standing abruptly.
I nodded, feeling both relieved and disappointed as he walked toward the window, putting distance between us. Would I ever understand why I, specifically, had become the focus of his obsession?
"Speak," Ethan commanded into the phone, his voice dropping several degrees in temperature.
"When did this happen?" A pause. "And you're sure about the timing?" Another pause. "Get me the security footage. All of it."
With each exchange, his voice grew colder. I pulled my knees to my chest, making myself smaller as instinctive fear crept up my spine.
"How extensive is the damage?" Ethan asked, his free hand clenching into a fist. "I see. And production is completely halted?" He let out a slow breath. "Secure the site. No one in or out except our security team. I'll be there tomorrow morning."
He paced by the window, his reflection ghostlike against the Brussels nightscape. The tension in his body was palpable, coiled and dangerous.
"Quite bold, isn't he?" Ethan said with a cold laugh that sent chills through me. "Not surprising. He is Richard's grandson after all."
My blood turned to ice. Blake. He was talking about Blake. I froze, suddenly terrified that Ethan might somehow connect me to whatever had happened. My hands trembled slightly, and I tucked them under my thighs, trying to appear calmer than I felt.
When Ethan ended the call, his gaze locked onto me immediately. The warmth from earlier had vanished, replaced by something calculating and distant. I couldn't meet his eyes, afraid of what I might find there—accusation, anger, or worse, that terrifying coldness that preceded his most controlling moments.
"Liv," he said softly, the sound of my name in his voice making me flinch.
When I didn't respond, he crossed the room in four long strides and sat beside me. With effortless strength, he pulled me onto his lap, one arm firmly around my waist while his other hand gently stroked my hair—the tender gesture at odds with the tension radiating from his body.
"There's been a problem at one of my factories in Mexico," he explained, his voice controlled but tight. "Someone orchestrated a sophisticated attack on my production line. Millions in damage."
My heart raced. What had Blake done?
"I need to leave for Mexico in the morning," he continued, studying my face for any reaction. "I need to assess the situation personally."
I swallowed hard. "That's... terrible."
Anxiety bloomed in my chest as I realized what this meant. "And... what about me?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
"You'll stay here. You need rest," he said firmly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my lower back. "I've arranged for additional security. You'll be completely safe in Brussels while I'm gone."
"How long will you be gone?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.
A hint of a smile touched Ethan's lips. "Miss me already?"
I bit my lip, not answering immediately. It wasn't that I'd miss him—it was that being alone in a strange place terrified me. What if Blake tried to contact me again while Ethan was away? What if this was all some elaborate trap?
"I'm just... I've never been alone in another country before," I finally admitted, trying to sound more vulnerable than afraid.
"Don't worry," he said, his thumb gently tracing my cheekbone. "The hotel staff knows to take care of you. The company's European division is headquartered here—mostly Americans. And there's always the embassy if you need anything." He kissed my forehead lightly. "I'll be back before you know it."
I nodded, forcing myself to look calmer than I felt. "Okay."
Ethan studied me, his expression suddenly shifting to something colder, more calculating. "Aren't you curious about why my factory was targeted, Liv?"
The question caught me off guard. "Should I be?"
His fingers tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Blake arranged it," he said bluntly. "Had my factory sabotaged to draw me out of the country."
I froze, confusion and fear washing over me. "What? Why would he—"
"He doesn't know I brought you to Brussels," Ethan continued, his thumb now tracing my lower lip in a gesture that was both intimate and threatening. "His plan was to get me out of the country, then take advantage of my absence to get to you. To take you away."
My heart hammered against my ribs so violently I was certain Ethan could feel it. I couldn't formulate a response, my mind racing through implications.
"So tell me, Liv..." Ethan's smile turned cruel, his eyes never leaving mine. "What should I do about the two of you? Oh, I'm sorry—about him?"