A week later, Ethan's chest tightened as he saw Lena laughing across the boardroom with a visiting client—a man she clearly enjoyed teasing.
His jaw clenched. He hated the surge of jealousy, hated how it revealed how much he already cared.
Later, he cornered her in the elevator. "Who was he?" he asked, tone sharp.
"Who?" she replied, innocently. "Oh, just a client."
Ethan's pulse raced. "Just a client?" His voice was low, dangerous, but controlled. "You smiled at him like… like you smile at me."
Her lips twitched in amusement, eyes glinting. "You think I smile at you?"
"Yes," he admitted, almost too quickly. "And it's driving me insane."
The tension between them was unbearable—physical, emotional, magnetic. He wanted her, needed her, and she knew it.