Ethan Yu clenched his jaw, his expression twisted in frustration.
Was he out of his mind just now? Why the hell did he even think of seducing her?
The moment that ridiculous thought crossed his mind, he regretted it. Deeply. It was the most humiliating impulse he'd had in years.
Disgusted with himself, he flung the book he'd been pretending to read aside and stormed into the bathroom. Cold shower. Immediately.
Back in the living room, Hailey Tang was already fast asleep on the couch.
She had a weird superpower—not beauty, not brains, but the uncanny ability to fall asleep instantly, anywhere, anytime. All she had to do was lie down and think about sleeping, and she'd be out like a light in seconds. No tossing and turning, no counting sheep. Just… snooze mode: activated.
So despite sleeping through most of the day, she still managed to pass out in under a minute the second her head hit the armrest.
When Ethan came out of the bathroom, hair still damp, he found her snuggled under a throw blanket, one leg kicked out like she owned the entire sofa.
He had no intention of looking at her.
And yet… his eyes drifted toward her anyway.
She was wearing an eye mask, so she couldn't see him watching her. Not that he was watching. He was just… thinking. About things. Complicated things.
And unfortunately, those complicated things all seemed to revolve around her.
He'd noticed the shift in his emotions. No matter what she did—speak, sleep, argue, sneeze—somehow it always got under his skin. She had this annoying gravitational pull. The kind that dragged his attention back even when he tried to look away.
Why was she affecting him like this?
Why was it that someone he used to loathe—still loathed, probably—had started becoming impossible to ignore?
Ethan crouched beside the couch, his gaze heavy as it settled on her peaceful, slightly pouty face.
"Hailey," he said in a low voice.
She didn't stir.
His brows furrowed. "What did you do to me?"
Nothing. Obviously. She was asleep. She didn't even know he was here, whispering confessions she'd never hear.
But the question still buzzed in his chest.
"Why am I so… off balance lately?" he asked the sleeping girl. "Why do you get under my skin like this?"
He paused. Then laughed at himself—a bitter, ironic chuckle.
"Have I… fallen for you?"
The moment the words escaped his mouth, he froze.
No. That couldn't be it. Impossible.
He hated her. He hated her, didn't he?
She was reckless, immature, bratty, always poking at his temper like a cat with a death wish. She was everything he'd sworn he wouldn't tolerate in a partner.
But then again… he'd also sworn he wanted a divorce. And yet lately, he'd been hesitating.
His gaze lingered on her sleeping form. Then, almost angrily, he stood and walked out to the balcony, yanking a cigarette from the nearly untouched pack he kept buried in a drawer.
He didn't even like smoking.
But this was the second time this week.
Dammit.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains like a rude alarm clock. Hailey, however, remained completely dead to the world, snoring faintly into the cushion.
Ethan was already dressed, clean-shaven, and checking his Rolex.
Three hours till their flight.
He stepped over to the couch and called her name.
"Hailey. Time to get up."
"Mmmph…" She turned away, burying her face deeper into the pillow. "Go away."
"You need to get ready."
"Ten more minutes," she grumbled.
Whoosh—
Her blanket was unceremoniously yanked away.
A blast of cold air hit her bare skin. Especially her legs.
She instantly curled up, groaning from the chill—then froze.
There was… a stare.
A very intense stare.
Oh no.
She cracked open one eye beneath the sleep mask and saw Ethan standing there, looking more rigid than usual. His eyes—was he glaring at her?
Then she followed his gaze down.
Her bathrobe.
Wide open.
Her legs. Long. Bare.
And worse—her panties. Not just any panties. A thin, lacy black pair that was just barely decent and definitely not meant for public viewing.
Heat shot up her spine like a fire alarm. "OH MY GOD!"
She sat up in a panic, yanking the blanket back around herself like a defensive shield.
Ethan turned sharply and stalked away like the floor had suddenly caught fire. But not before she caught a glimpse of his expression—something between a scowl and a nervous breakdown.
Hailey stared at the back of his head, her face burning. "Why didn't you say anything?!"
"I did. I said get up," he said, still facing the other direction.
"Not—not like that!"
"Next time wear something more appropriate to sleep in."
"You weren't supposed to see it!" she shouted back, mortified.
He coughed. Once. "You're not ten anymore. Don't sleep in see-through lingerie."
"It's not see-through!" she lied.
Silence.
He turned slightly. "Hailey."
"What?!"
"…Get ready. We're leaving in an hour."
And with that, he vanished down the hallway, leaving her stewing under her blanket, half-furious and half mortified.
She stayed wrapped up like a human burrito for a good five minutes before peeling herself out and dragging herself toward the bathroom.
"Great," she muttered, staring at her flushed reflection. "Now he thinks I did it on purpose."
But what she didn't know—what she couldn't know—was that Ethan had been standing in the hallway just out of sight, one hand gripping the doorframe, breathing like he'd just run a marathon.
Because the image of her sprawled out on that couch—eyes closed, lips parted, robe falling open like a forbidden fruit commercial—was not leaving his mind anytime soon.
And that scared him more than he wanted to admit.