Chapter 121 Familiar Places
Lena tried her best to focus as she stepped into the shower, letting the warm water run over her skin. She didn't understand why Ethan had brought her here instead of taking her home.
When she was done, she stepped out of the glass shower enclosure and wrapped herself in a towel. The house was quiet, too quiet. From the look of it, this wasn't just any place. Ethan probably had several homes like this, but the way he'd called it his private house made her think he came here when he wanted to be alone.
She slipped into the oversized T-shirt she found neatly folded in the wardrobe. It hung loosely over her frame, brushing against her thighs. Letting her hair fall freely, she walked back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.
A few minutes passed before her stomach gave a quiet rumble. She hadn't eaten dinner, only filled herself with too much wine earlier.
She stood up after a while, deciding she couldn't ignore her hunger any longer. Maybe there'd be something in the kitchen, if she was lucky. Since Ethan didn't actually live here, she didn't have high hopes.
Pushing herself off the bed, she stepped out of the room and began to find her way around. The place wasn't that large; more like a tastefully furnished apartment than a mansion.
When she reached the kitchen, she froze. Ethan was there.
He stood by the counter, sleeves rolled up, a knife in hand as he chopped carrots and onions with quiet precision. He moved around the kitchen like he belonged there, efficient, focused and calm.
The faint aroma of cooked noodles drifted toward her, making her stomach twist in longing. For a moment, she simply leaned against the doorframe and watched him, unsure whether to interrupt or just keep looking.
He seemed to sense her presence. Without turning fully, Ethan glanced over his shoulder, his eyes sweeping briefly over her before pausing, just for a second, on her bare thighs beneath the oversized shirt. Then, as if catching himself, he looked away.
"You're here," he said lightly, his tone even. "Hungry? I was starving and thought I'd make something quick."
"Noodles?" she asked, stepping further into the kitchen.
He nodded, reaching for the pan again. "It's the fastest thing I could think of."
Lena leaned against the counter, watching him as he worked. "You chop onions like you've been doing it all your life," she teased. "Don't tell me the untouchable CEO is also a good cook."
That drew a faint laugh from him, quiet, brief, but real. "My grandfather believed in being self-sufficient," he said. "Didn't think much of men who couldn't make their own meals."
"That's amazing," Lena said, a smile tugging at her lips. "I never would've guessed you had such skills in a million years."
Ethan chuckled under his breath, glancing at her briefly. "There's a lot you don't know about me."
She went quiet at that. He was right. There was so much she didn't know about him, so much he never let anyone see. And yet, the more she learned, the more curious she became. There was something about the man behind the calm voice and sharp suits that drew her in, something she couldn't quite name.
Before long, Ethan was efficiently plating the meal, moving with the same precision he showed in everything he did. The rich aroma filled the kitchen, making Lena's stomach tighten in anticipation.
"Smells incredible," she murmured as he carried the plates to the small dining table by the window.
"Let's see if it tastes as good," he said, setting one in front of her before taking the seat opposite.
They ate in companionable silence at first. The noodles were simple but surprisingly good, flavorful and perfectly cooked. Lena found herself sneaking glances at him between bites. He didn't seem like the kind of man who would ever sit down for a quiet meal in a modest kitchen, yet here he was, sleeves rolled up, looking almost... normal.
"This is actually really good," she said finally, smiling.
He looked up at her, a small, satisfied smile touching his lips. "I'll take that as a compliment."
For a while, neither of them spoke again. The only sounds were the soft clink of cutlery and the hum of the night outside, an oddly peaceful stillness she hadn't expected to share with him.
After dinner, Lena offered to clean up.
"I'll handle it," Ethan said, already reaching for the plates.
She stopped him with a small smile. "You cooked. Let me do this much."
For a moment, he looked ready to argue, but then he gave in. "Fine," he murmured.
She carried the dishes to the sink and began rinsing them. A minute later, she sensed him beside her. Ethan had taken a towel, quietly drying each plate she set aside.
"You really don't have to," she said softly.
"I know," he replied, not looking up. "But I don't mind."
She smiled, glancing at him. "You're full of surprises, you know that?"
He raised a brow. "Am I?"
She nodded, still facing the sink. "I honestly thought I'd have to tolerate the cold, annoying Ethan until the contract ended... but you've turned out to be a sweeter, more interesting person."
Ethan chuckled beside her, low and amused.
It took her a second to realize what she'd just said out loud. Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh....I didn't mean.."
He turned to her, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Too late," he said quietly.
Lena smiled to herself, still a little embarrassed, but when she turned to look at Ethan, his expression wasn't what she expected. The easy amusement he'd shown moments ago was gone. His face had grown unreadable again, calm, distant, almost as if he'd shut something off inside him.
Her chest tightened. Had he taken her words the wrong way? She hadn't meant to sound insulting; it had been a joke, lighthearted, harmless, or so she thought. Now, standing beside him, she wasn't so sure.
As she rinsed the last dish, her mind wavered between two impulses: to say something and clear the air, or to stay quiet and pretend nothing had changed. The silence between them stretched thin, filled only by the faint splash of water and the soft clink of porcelain.
When she finally dried her hands, she risked another glance at him. Ethan's focus was entirely on the dishes now, movements precise and controlled, every trace of the warmth from before replaced by cool detachment.
It was such a sharp contrast from the man who had just laughed beside her that Lena felt a strange pang in her chest, uncertain whether she had said too much, or if he was simply retreating behind his walls again.