Seeing Emma casually kick off her shoes and head upstairs like nothing happened, Ethan felt a sudden rush of irritation burning in his chest.

"Why are you back so late tonight?"

His voice was low, that usual calm and magnetic tone, but he wasn't fooling anyone-not even himself. There was something cold layered beneath the words.

"Overtime at work."

Emma glanced his way and gave a short reply. She unconsciously shivered, sweeping her eyes across the living room before landing on the empty dining table. Something about his stiff expression made her scalp tingle.

"Overtime?"

Ethan let out a faint laugh, not the amused kind. His lips curved with sarcasm, and his dark eyes held a look that said he didn't believe a word of it.

Did she really think he was that easy to fool?

He tugged at his collar, frustrated, popping a few buttons on his crisp white shirt.

"If there's nothing else, I'm heading up."

Emma didn't understand what was up with him tonight-he was suddenly unusually talkative. Leaving that sentence behind, she turned to go upstairs.

Watching her back, Ethan only got more annoyed. Looked to him like she couldn't even be bothered to give an explanation.

He abruptly stood up, took a few strides forward, and grabbed her slender wrist.

"What are you doing?"

Emma instantly tried to shake off his grip, startled by the sudden hold. But the next second, Ethan forcefully pinned her against the wall, arms on either side of her blocking any escape. His deep-set eyes stared into hers, unmoving.

"Ethan, what are you doing? Let me go!"

She struggled a bit, but he just leaned in closer, and before she could react, his lips were already on hers, hot and relentless.

Feeling the soft pressure on her lips, Emma's eyes widened in disbelief. Was he seriously doing this?

Before her mind could catch up, Ethan had already parted her lips, his tongue sliding in, brushing against her teeth. At the same time, his fingers slipped under her clothes, pressing against the curve of her waist.

By now, Emma had no strength left to resist. She just froze, letting him take control.

Outside, the moonlight faded into the deep black of night. Inside the villa, the two of them were still tangled together, too close and unwilling to part.

...

The next morning.

9 AM.

Upstairs bedroom in the villa.

As the first rays of sunlight filtered in through the window, the two on the bed slowly began to stir.

"Mm-"

Shielding her eyes instinctively from the brightness, Emma woke up groggily, staring at the familiar chandelier looming overhead.

She shifted her arm, and an ache crawled up from her muscles. Rubbing her temples, she pushed herself up from the bed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the man lying beside her, Ethan.

The moment she saw him, memories from last night came crashing back. Emma's fingers tightened around the blanket. She had no idea how she was supposed to face this man right now.

Before she could figure out what to say or how to act, the man on the bed opened his eyes. He was already watching her quietly.

"No breakfast today?"

Ethan sat up like a satisfied predator stretching after a hunt. The silk sheet slid down his chest, revealing a toned, powerful body. His voice was low and a little raspy-like aged whiskey, deep and smooth.

Emma looked at him - that laid-back posture, that casual tone - and felt a sharp pang of anger mixed with disbelief.

What was she to him, really? Some kind of pet? At his beck and call?

"You weren't drunk last night, were you? And this time, I wasn't pretending to be Lily to seduce you." Her voice was laced with sarcasm as she stepped off the bed barefoot, not even caring she still had on just a flimsy slip dress.

"Oh, and I'm done making breakfast for you. From now on, do it yourself. I'm tired."

She finally met his gaze head-on. A smirk curled on her lips, a bright, almost mocking smile that hit him like a slap, stinging and impossible to ignore.

Ethan's brows drew together. He didn't say a word. He just threw off the covers and walked out.

As she stared at his back disappearing out the door, the absurdity of it all stung even more.

Of course. She was just some toy to him.

...

Back in his room, Ethan got changed and came out dressed, sharp and composed again.

"Jacob, have the chef prepare breakfast. Make sure there's a variety."

Just as Jacob was passing him the Financial Times, he heard Ethan give the order.

"Yes, sir."

...

An hour later.

After soaking in the tub for forty minutes, scrubbing away every trace of him from her skin, Emma wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the bathroom.

She'd just finished drying her hair and getting dressed when someone knocked at the bedroom door.

"Ma'am, breakfast is ready."

Hearing the housekeeper calling from the other side, Emma grabbed her bag and casually opened the door.

She was halfway down the stairs when she saw Ethan sitting calmly at the table.

Instantly, she turned, ready to leave.

"Come back."

His voice, stern and low, cut through the air as soon as he saw her turn.

"Ma'am, Mr. Hunt specifically asked the kitchen to make a big spread today. Won't you at least try some?" Jacob added quickly, sensing the tension.

Emma knew better than to make a scene in front of the staff. She sighed and walked over, sitting down across from Ethan.

She avoided his eyes, lowering her gaze to the meal. Indeed, the table was packed with food.

But appetite? That she didn't have.

She picked at a bite of egg yolk and sipped half a glass of milk. Then she dabbed her mouth with a napkin and said gently, "I'm done."

"That's it? That tiny bit and you're full?"

Ethan's patience snapped as he looked at her barely touched plate. He turned to the maid nearby and said coldly, "Pile more food onto her plate."

"Yes," the housekeeper answered politely. Less than a minute later, Emma's plate was filled to the brim.

The dishes looked amazing and smelled even better, but Emma's appetite had completely vanished. Her mind was a mess, and the food tasted like cardboard. She frowned without even realizing it.

Seeing her like that, Ethan lost interest in eating too. He set down his fork and stared straight at her from across the table.

Sensing the tension, Jacob gave a discreet glance and quietly ushered the other staff out of the dining room.

"Emma, why do you always look so gloomy at home? I mean, didn't you look all smiles last night when you were out?"

Ethan picked up the napkin and casually wiped his fingers, his tone sharp.

"Last night?" Emma blinked, confused at first. Then she noticed the irritation on Ethan's face and finally pieced it together-it was about Michael dropping her off yesterday.

Huh. Was this guy seriously jealous?

She looked up, only to meet his deep, dark eyes.

"It was really late, and I couldn't get a ride near the office. Michael happened to drive by, so he gave me a lift," she said, lowering her head to avoid his gaze, trying to keep her voice steady.

"You had to catch a ride? What about the driver?"

Ethan wasn't buying the whole "coincidentally driving by" story. Guys know how guys think-Michael wouldn't just "drop by" out of nowhere to give her a ride.

"I'm not used to having a driver, okay? And the cars in your garage are all super flashy. I wouldn't be able to pull out without scraping something."

That part Ethan couldn't argue with. He knew she wasn't lying. Back at the Grace family, she almost always went out on her own or hailed a cab.

Time to get her a proper car, he thought.

"Anything else? If not, I'm heading out," Emma said.

"Go ahead," Ethan replied, tossing the napkin onto the table, getting up and trailing behind her toward the door.

Women usually take longer to get dressed, and this time was no exception. By the time Emma slipped on her coat, Ethan had already grabbed his keys and walked out without saying a word.

The sound of the door closing echoed and Emma let out a quiet, bitter laugh to herself.

See? It's not like he actually cares.

No need to kid yourself.

But then, as she reached the front gates, she saw a sleek black-and-gold sports car she recognized all too well.

"Get in."

The window rolled down, revealing Ethan's handsome face.

"Get in?" Emma raised an eyebrow.

"I'll give you a ride to work," he said, his voice smooth and calm like always.

Emma didn't argue. She opened the car door and hopped in. After all, a free ride meant she didn't have to hike down the hill to grab a cab. Who'd say no to that?

Once she was in and buckled up, Ethan finally started the car and drove down the hill.

One focused on the road, the other lost in the passing scenery. The whole drive? Dead silent.

When Emma got out of the car at the company entrance, she casually waved to the man inside. She didn't expect a coworker arriving just then to catch the whole thing.

"Emma, you're here!"

As soon as she stepped into the office, an exaggerated greeting hit her ears. She looked up and was immediately surrounded by a few unfamiliar faces.

"What's going on with you guys?"

Their eager looks made her nervous. She clutched her bag a bit tighter and asked.

"Emma, how did you get to work today?"

"I heard from Aria that she saw you stepping out of this black-gold limited edition sports car! In this city, only Ethan from Hunt Group drives something like that!"

"No kidding, Emma! Is Ethan your boyfriend or what? Why didn't you ever mention it?"

...

With all the chatter and wide-eyed curiosity around her, Emma felt her temples throb. She hurriedly raised her hands to stop them from bombarding her with more questions.

"He's just a relative, okay? He was on his way to work too and offered to give me a lift. Don't overthink it. Get back to work."

Her words instantly killed the excitement in the room.

"Aww man, I totally thought he was your boyfriend!"

"Yeah, but even as a relative, still cool! I mean, it's Hunt Group!"

As her coworkers scattered like pigeons, Emma gave a small helpless laugh and made her way to her desk.

Barely had she sat down when her office phone rang. It was Amy calling her to come to the office.

As soon as she stepped inside, Amy told her straight up. "Emma, set aside your other tasks for now. There's a client who specifically asked to work with you."

"Got it."

Since she'd already talked to Michael about this project, Emma didn't ask further. She picked up the basic outline and went back to her desk.

...

Two weeks later. At Daisy Design Company.

Ring-

Right in the middle of sketching a design, Emma answered her phone without thinking.

"Emma? Come to 801."

The call ended right there.

Holding the receiver, Emma blinked in confusion.

801? What's that? She'd never heard of such a place.

She asked a nearby coworker and finally found out that while she was on leave, the company brought in a new supervisor named Helen Flores. She was now handling all major orders.

Not sure what the new boss wanted from her, Emma set aside what she was doing and headed over.

"Ms. Flores, you called for me?"

She knocked on the door lightly before stepping in.

Helen looked up from her screen and glanced over Emma from head to toe. "You're Emma?"

"Yes." Emma nodded, feeling a bit uneasy under the stare.

"This here is your assignment. Finish it in three days." Helen slapped a folder onto the desk in front of her.

"I'm currently working on another design..." Emma tried to stay calm and explained.

"I don't care. This one takes priority. You've got a week. Miss the deadline, and you deal with the consequences."

Without sparing her another glance, Helen went back to her computer.

Hearing Helen's response, Emma could only sigh inwardly and accept the assignment. She picked up the folder and walked out.

Once she returned to her desk and flipped open the folder, her brows slightly furrowed. The order came from Hunt Corporation-it was a design job for their president, Ethan, who would be attending a charity gala next month.

So that's what this was. Helen probably heard some rumors about her supposed connection with Ethan and figured she'd be the perfect person for the job. What a way to take advantage of office gossip.

Design something for Ethan? Emma thought of that man's insufferable attitude and-slightly annoyed-grabbed her pencil and jabbed it twice at his name on the paper.

At the same moment, Ethan, who was listening to a report from his team, unexpectedly sneezed twice. Rubbing his nose in confusion, he muttered, "Weird... Am I getting a cold?"

...

Two hours later.

"Ugh, it's boiling out here..."

It was around lunch rush, crazy traffic, so Emma decided not to hail a cab. Instead, she walked in the blazing 28-degree sun for over an hour, trekking from the west side of the city to the towering Hunt Corporation building downtown.

The second she stepped inside the lobby, a wave of cool air hit her, finally easing the heat that had stuck to her skin like glue.

"Hi, I'm Emma, a designer with Daisy Design Studio. I'm here about the outfit for Mr. Hunt for the charity event next month."

At the front desk, Emma kept her tone polite, but the immaculately dressed receptionist just snorted and gave her a dismissive once-over.

"Daisy Design? Our president usually works with Swiss indie designers. When did we start letting just anyone handle his wardrobe?"

Surrounded daily by employees decked in the latest high-end pieces, the receptionist couldn't help but sneer at Emma's simple T-shirt and jeans. After tossing out her comment, she didn't say another word to Emma.

Emma wasn't in the mood to argue with snobs. Without a word, she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed straight for the elevators.

If she remembered right, Ethan's office was on the top floor. No surprise there-he always did love that "king of the mountain" view.

"Ding-" The elevator doors opened. Emma stepped out, passed an empty desk, and without thinking twice, pushed open the frosted glass doors to the inner office.

What she didn't expect was to walk in on a scene straight out of a soap opera.

Right in front of her was a woman in a tight red dress, half perched on a chair by Ethan's massive desk. Her body was practically draped over his thigh, arms snaking behind his waist, her fingers gently tracing him. Her dress had ridden up, baring a pale, smooth thigh.

Things were clearly about to heat up... until Emma barged in.

At the sound of the door creaking open, the woman looked up, irritation flickering on her heavily made-up face.

"Who the hell are you? Ever heard of knocking?"

She finally managed to sneak into the CEO's office today, thinking she'd get a moment alone with him. Nope. Didn't even get started before someone barged in. Just her luck.

That thought had the woman glaring even harder at Emma.

"Sorry to kill the mood, Ethan," Emma said, tone flat but slightly amused as she took in the scene-Ethan sitting there like nothing happened, and the woman next to him clearly pissed off.

"You seriously think you can talk to him like that? Know you're interrupting? Then get lost!" The woman's attitude exploded when Emma kept ignoring her, throwing daggers with her eyes.

Right then, Ethan finally looked up and dropped a cold, single word: "Leave."

The woman perked up instantly, thinking he had her back. She straightened up, smug all over her face.

"Did you hear that? Mr. Hunt told you to leave!"

Emma let out a dry chuckle, half-laughing at herself as she adjusted her bag and turned to go. But then came his voice again-this time sharper, colder.

"I meant you."

Emma froze mid-step. The woman stared at him, shocked, lips parting like she wanted to say something. But when she met his emotionless gaze, she instantly shrank back.

"S-sorry, Mr. Hunt. I'm leaving now."

She snatched her purse and scurried out like a dog with its tail between its legs.

Once the door shut, Emma shifted her eyes back to him. "I'm the designer assigned to handle your clothing order."

"I know."

Ethan looked at her calmly and stood up, brushing off his suit jacket as he moved closer.

"Why didn't you let me know you were coming? I could've sent someone to pick you up."

Emma placed her bag down and gave a short laugh. "Pick me up? If I'd said I was coming, guess I would've missed quite the show."

Regardless of how close they were or weren't, she was still legally his wife. What he'd done today? It crossed a line.

Unaware of her thoughts, Ethan leaned back against his desk, arms folded over his chest, a faint smirk on his face, speaking lightly. "She sat on my lap. I didn't touch her."

"What does that have to do with me?" Emma replied coolly, though the edge in her expression had softened a bit. She dug into her bag, pulling out sketches, tape, and a notepad, laying everything on the desk.

"Alright, Mr. Hunt. Stand over there, arms out. I need your measurements."

"Sure, no problem." He chuckled faintly at the serious look on her face, then moved to where she pointed.

As he got into position, Emma walked over, business-like and focused. "Arms out. Feet together."