Did she seriously not realize how innocent her body still looked?
And that innocence—wrapped in that kind of outfit—was exactly what made it even more fatal.
Ethan Yu was still standing in the hallway, hand braced against the wall, heart pounding against his ribs.
His mind was racing.
He remembered—years ago—she used to wear stuff like that on purpose. Sexy little nightgowns, silk robes, lingerie that left nothing to the imagination. It wasn't even subtle. She'd strut past him like it was a fashion show, toss her hair like a shampoo commercial, and always, always glance back to make sure he was watching.
She was teasing him. Back then, it was deliberate.
So now, was she doing it again?
That robe. Those panties. That ridiculous sleep position like she was shooting a perfume ad in her dreams. Was it really just an accident?
Ethan tried to tell himself it was. She didn't have that kind of motive anymore. They weren't together like that. Whatever spark they'd had back then had burned out a long time ago, right?
Right?
He gritted his teeth.
Even if she hadn't done it on purpose…
The truth was undeniable.
She'd tempted him.
Not with intention. Not with words.
Just by existing in that robe, sprawled out on that couch like temptation in human form.
His eyes fell shut as he remembered the way her lips looked up close—soft, pink, faintly parted. Like she was inviting him.
No. That was just his brain talking. His other brain, probably.
But the more he tried to look away, the more he couldn't.
Before he knew it, he was back in the living room, standing beside the couch.
And then… he crouched down.
He leaned in—closer and closer—until the tip of his nose almost brushed against hers.
He had never, in all their time together, studied her face this closely.
And God help him… she was stunning.
Her skin was pale and flawless, with a faint peach fuzz that caught the light. Her small nose was delicate, like something out of a fairytale sketch. And her lips—those lips—had a soft, natural gloss to them that made him want to…
He swallowed.
Her breath was light, warm against his skin.
Her collarbone peeked out from the edge of the robe, clean and sharp like a sculpture. The skin beneath it practically glowed.
And lower…
No. Stop.
But his gaze kept slipping, inch by inch, down the curve of her neck, past the robe's messy knot, toward the creamy skin it barely managed to cover.
His breathing grew heavy.
His body tightened with heat.
He was a man, after all. A normal one. He wasn't made of stone. Sure, he usually channeled all that energy into work, into routines, into stoic indifference.
But lately, that control was slipping.
And right now? It was completely gone.
His eyes locked on her lips again.
And this time, he didn't stop himself.
He leaned down and kissed her.
It was barely a kiss—more like a brush of heat, a test of reality.
But it was real.
For a second, the world stopped.
"Mm…"
Hailey shifted slightly, murmuring in her sleep. Her lips moved beneath his like she was reacting—but then stilled.
Startled, Ethan immediately pulled back. His heart was hammering so hard it made his vision pulse.
He stood, turned, and left the room like a man fleeing a crime scene.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Hailey stirred.
Her lashes fluttered beneath the eye mask.
Had she just… dreamt something?
It felt like someone had kissed her. Warm. Gentle. Not a dream-kiss—the kind that feels silly and distant—but one that felt real. Too real.
A second later, she bolted upright, yanked off her eye mask, and—
"AHHHH!!"
Her bathrobe was wide open.
She grabbed at it in horror, wrapping herself like a burrito and glancing around the room in a panic.
No sign of Ethan.
But… she was sure she'd just heard the front door close.
So he'd seen her?
Definitely. He must have.
The blanket was gone, and she was practically flashing the entire living room when she woke up.
Her memory was fuzzy. She thought she'd heard his voice. Maybe?
And wait… wasn't he the one who took her blanket?
Yes. Had to be.
Her face turned bright red, then redder.
And now that she thought about it—how dare he act like some cold, unapproachable monk when he was clearly a perv hiding in a designer suit!
She was fuming all the way into the bathroom, mentally calling him every insult she knew, and inventing a few new ones on the spot.
By the time she made it down to the dining room, her face was calm again, like nothing had happened.
Ethan, meanwhile, sat perfectly straight at the breakfast table, cutting into his toast like he was conducting a boardroom meeting.
He didn't even glance at her.
"We leave in thirty minutes. Eat quickly."
Hailey sat down across from him, grabbed a piece of bread, and immediately started tearing it apart—violently.
Her eyes didn't leave him. She stared at him like he was the bread.
Rip. Stare. Tear. Glare.
Ethan finally noticed her weirdly aggressive gaze.
He looked up, calm as ever. "Did you not hear me? I said thirty minutes."
"You hypocrite," Hailey said flatly.
His brow twitched. "What?"
"Pervert."
"…What did you just say?"
Hailey leaned forward, eyes wide, voice full of exaggerated innocence. "I said you're a pervy old man."
Clang!
Ethan dropped his fork and knife into the plate, his face darkening. "Hailey Tang. Who the hell are you talking to right now?"
"You!" she snapped. "You looked at me while I was sleeping! You opened my blanket! You saw everything!"
"I woke you up," he said sharply. "You were the one sleeping in—"
"Don't even try to justify it, you fake celibate!"
Ethan stood up abruptly.
"I didn't look at you that way."
"You're lying!" she shouted. "Your ears were red!"
He paused.
"…What?"
"Red! Like a tomato! That's guilt!"
Ethan blinked. For the first time in this entire morning war, he seemed… at a loss.
Hailey stood, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
"You always act so cold and composed, but you're worse than normal guys! You're a pervert in disguise!"
Ethan took a deep breath.
Then he leaned forward slightly, voice low. "And if I had looked at you like that… would you be mad?"
Hailey froze.
Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
"…Wha—you—That's not the point!"
She stormed off, robe swishing dramatically behind her.
Ethan sat back down, picked up his fork and knife again, and muttered:
"Definitely not intentional, huh?"