đź–¤ Chapter 4: Unwanted Curiosity
Ethan Carter did not make mistakes twice.
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That was something he believed in.
Something he followed.
Something that had kept his life controlled, predictable, and exactly the way he wanted it.
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Which was why—
standing in his office, staring at the same report for the fourth time—
he knew something was off.
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He wasn't reading anymore.
He was thinking.
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And that—
was already a problem.
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His fingers tapped lightly against the desk, slow and rhythmic.
Controlled.
Measured.
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But his mind wasn't.
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"You're doing it again."
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Ethan didn't look up.
"Noah, if you're not here with something important—"
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"You're distracted," Noah cut in, walking in like always, completely unbothered. "And I'm starting to feel ignored."
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Ethan finally glanced up.
"I am ignoring you."
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Noah gasped dramatically.
"Wow. After everything we've been through?"
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"We've been through emails," Ethan said flatly.
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Noah dropped into the chair anyway.
"Still counts."
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Ethan sighed quietly, closing the file.
"What do you want?"
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Noah leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
"I want to know why you've been staring at the same page like it personally offended you."
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"I haven't."
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"You have."
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Silence.
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Then Noah smirked.
"Oh," he said slowly, "this is about him, isn't it?"
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Ethan's gaze sharpened.
"Don't."
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Noah raised both hands.
"I didn't even say his name."
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"You didn't have to."
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A pause.
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Then Noah leaned back, clearly enjoying himself.
"So it is about him."
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Ethan stood up.
Conversation over.
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"I have work."
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"Yeah," Noah muttered, "and apparently a very specific distraction."
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Ethan ignored him.
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Because engaging would mean admitting something.
And he wasn't doing that.
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Not now.
Not ever.
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He should've known.
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The moment things felt unsettled—
the moment his control slipped even slightly—
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it meant one thing.
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He would show up.
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And he did.
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Ethan didn't need Noah to tell him this time.
Didn't need a warning.
Didn't need confirmation.
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He felt it.
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The shift.
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The quiet tension in the air as he stepped into the corridor.
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And there—
just like before—
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Vincenzo Moretti stood.
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Not leaning this time.
Not waiting.
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Just… there.
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Like he belonged.
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Ethan stopped a few steps away.
Expression calm.
Controlled.
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"You're starting to ignore instructions."
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Vincenzo's gaze moved to him slowly.
Measured.
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"You're starting to repeat yourself."
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Ethan didn't react.
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"Why are you here?"
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A pause.
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Then—
"I wanted to see you."
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Simple.
Direct.
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Ethan's expression didn't change.
"That's not a valid reason."
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Vincenzo took a step closer.
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"It was enough for me."
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Silence settled between them.
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Not uncomfortable.
Not empty.
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Just… charged.
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Ethan crossed his arms slightly.
"You shouldn't be walking around like this."
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"I'm fine."
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"That's not what I asked."
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Another step closer.
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"You're concerned."
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"I'm being professional."
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A faint smile.
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"Of course."
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Ethan exhaled slowly.
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This again.
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"You've made your point," he said. "You can leave now."
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Vincenzo didn't move.
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"You said you're not interested."
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Ethan's gaze sharpened slightly.
"I did."
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"Then why haven't you asked me to leave yet?"
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That—
made Ethan pause.
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Just for a second.
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But it was enough.
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Because Vincenzo noticed.
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Always noticed.
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Ethan's jaw tightened.
"I just did."
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A step closer.
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Now there was barely any space left.
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"Not really."
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Ethan turned slightly, intending to walk past him—
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—but before he could—
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Vincenzo's hand caught his wrist.
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Firm.
Steady.
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Ethan froze.
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Not in fear.
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In awareness.
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"Let go," he said quietly.
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Vincenzo didn't.
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Instead—
he stepped closer.
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Closing the last bit of distance.
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"You keep saying the same thing," he murmured.
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Ethan's pulse felt… louder now.
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"I mean it."
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"Then say it again."
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Ethan held his gaze.
Unmoving.
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"I'm not interested."
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But this time—
the words didn't land the same way.
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Didn't sound as certain.
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Vincenzo's grip shifted slightly—
not tighter—
but enough to keep him there.
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Ethan took a slow breath.
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"You're crossing boundaries."
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Vincenzo's eyes didn't leave his.
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"Then stop me."
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A pause.
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A long one.
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Ethan didn't push him away.
Didn't step back.
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Didn't move at all.
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And that silence—
said everything.
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With a small movement—
Vincenzo guided him back a step.
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Then another.
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Until Ethan's back met the wall.
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Not forceful.
Not aggressive.
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But deliberate.
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Controlled.
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Their breathing wasn't steady anymore.
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Ethan looked at him—
really looked this time.
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At the intensity.
At the restraint.
At the way he was holding himself back—
even now.
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"Vincenzo."
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A warning.
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But it didn't sound like one.
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Vincenzo's gaze dropped—
just slightly—
to Ethan's lips.
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Ethan noticed.
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His breath caught—
barely.
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Everything slowed.
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Too close.
Too quiet.
Too much.
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And for a moment—
it almost happened.
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Ethan felt it.
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The pull.
The shift.
The line about to disappear.
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So he turned his head.
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Just enough.
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Breaking it.
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Not stepping away—
but not allowing it either.
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Silence.
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Heavy.
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Vincenzo didn't move immediately.
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Then slowly—
his grip loosened.
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And he let go.
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Ethan straightened.
Adjusted his sleeve.
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Composed again.
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"…This shouldn't happen," he said quietly.
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Vincenzo watched him.
Calm.
Unbothered.
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"And yet," he replied, "you didn't stop it."
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Ethan met his gaze.
Something sharper this time.
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"I did."
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A pause.
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Then Vincenzo stepped back.
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Creating distance.
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But not breaking whatever had just formed.
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"You stopped the ending," he said softly.
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Then added—
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"Not the moment."
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Ethan didn't respond.
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Because he couldn't.
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Vincenzo moved toward the exit.
Paused at the door.
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"You can keep saying you're not interested," he said.
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Then—
without looking back—
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"…just don't start believing it."
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And he left.
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The door closed softly behind him.
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Ethan stood there.
Still.
Silent.
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Then slowly—
he exhaled.
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His hand moved unconsciously to his wrist.
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Where Vincenzo had held him.
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Like the feeling hadn't faded yet.
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"…This is a mistake," he murmured.
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But it didn't feel like one.
And that—
was the problem.