The silence that followed Ethan's arrival was so complete I could hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. Twenty-some people frozen mid-conversation, wine glasses suspended halfway to lips, all staring at the man who had just materialized like some kind of guardian angel—or avenging deity.
Ethan's hands remained steady on my waist and elbow, his presence radiating the kind of quiet authority that made rooms rearrange themselves around him. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that probably cost more than most people's monthly salary, his dark hair slightly tousled as if he'd come straight from the office. Which, I realized with growing mortification, he probably had.
"Ethan," I breathed, my voice barely audible. "What are you—how did you—"
"Your location was still shared from earlier," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving mine. "When you called, you sounded distressed. I thought I should check on you."
