Sophie's POV
Ethan and I stepped outside the hotel, his car waiting at the curb.
It was a sleek black SUV—different from the one whose tire I had punctured.
I had to admit, it was a nice ride.
"Yes, this is why I've been working hard," I thought, giving the car a quick once-over. "Once I finish this job, I'll finally upgrade my own car."
"Is everything ready?" Ethan asked his PA.
"Yes, sir. All the reporters are there waiting," he replied.
The driver and PA's eyes lingered on my face a second longer than necessary. This was probably the first time they'd seen their boss with a woman outside of work.
Ethan nodded. His driver opened the door, and we got in.
"I wonder how they showed up at the hotel right at that moment," he muttered, wearing his seatbelt.
I smiled inwardly. I had given them an anonymous tip about him being at the hotel with a woman, complete with the room number—before pretending to sleep this morning. And reporters? I trusted them. They took their jobs even more seriously than expected.
The truth was, I hadn't slept all night. I'd tried unlocking his phone, hoping to find something, but it was all to no avail.
Now I was a tad tired. I pressed my fingers between my brows.
I settled into the seat. Everything reeked of luxury, from the rich leather upholstery to the sleek cup holder design. Every inch of it.
The driver got in and started the engine, and we drove in silence. I noticed Ethan's eyes flicking to his designer wristwatch every minute.
I was waiting for the perfect opportunity to plant the listening device.
My gaze swept over the interior of the car— somewhere they wouldn't easily find it. But from the look of things, he changed his cars often.
Planting a device might not actually be effective after all.
Nevertheless, I wasn't leaving empty-handed. There's always a spot.
Ethan was seated right beside me, focused on his phone, replying to emails or barking out short responses on text. His attention wasn't on me.
Perfect.
I shifted slightly, pretending to adjust my dress as I leaned forward. "This seat is too damn stiff," I muttered under my breath.
I let my fingers trail along the side of the passenger seat, anyone would've thought I was just feeling around for the seat adjuster. But instead, I found the thin seam where the seat met the headrest.
I slipped the bug, pressing it deep into the gap between the leather and the cushion.
Ethan didn't even blink.
He kept typing, completely unaware.
I leaned back with a soft sigh, like someone just trying to get comfortable as if I hadn't just invaded the billionaire's privacy. Again.
I turned to the window, watching the towering silhouettes of the city pass us by.
"Pull over in front of that duplex building," Ethan's voice cut through my thoughts.
His driver gently hit the brakes, and the car came to a stop.
It was a departmental store.
"Come with me," Ethan said, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door.
I followed suit. "What are we doing here?" I asked.
"We're only spending five minutes," he replied, ignoring my question.
"We'll be right back," he added to his driver before walking off.
He was going to buy me clothes.
Getting new clothes on his dime didn't sound like a bad idea.
Ethan slipped on his sunglasses and shoved his hands into his pockets as we approached the store.
"You still haven't told me exactly what we're doing here," I said, even though it was obvious. Maybe I just wanted to get under his skin—or force him to talk.
"I can't present you as my fiancée looking like this. I have a reputation… and taste," he said coolly.
I instantly regretted asking.
We climbed the stairs, passing mannequins stylishly dressed and perfectly posed.
My heels clicked against the polished marble floor.
"Welcome, sir and ma'am," an attendant greeted us with a painted-on smile.
Even with his sunglasses still on, Ethan's eyes hovered over the dresses delicately arranged on hangers.
Without hesitation, he pulled out a purple dress and held it up in front of me.
"Put this on. You have less than a minute," he said, swaying the gown toward my face.
"I don't like this one," I said flatly. Normally, I wouldn't care, but he was being overbearing—and I wasn't about to entertain it.
He removed his glasses, one brow arched.
"We're not here for a shopping spree. Besides, any normal girl would like this."
"Well, I'm not every normal girl."
"Miss Anna—"
"Do you want to stand here arguing and waste your precious time, or let me pick a dress and get this over with?"
He didn't say a word.
"Good," I said, brushing past him.
The attendant's eyes darted nervously between us.
I walked over and picked out a red dress.
I wasn't a fan of dresses—if I had my way, I'd choose pants and a baggy sweater any day.
But my job entails me doing this—changing my personality.
I changed into the red dress but instantly regretted it. It was too fucking body-con, hugging all my curves like a second skin. The one Ethan chose would've fit me better.
But it was too late. Outside this room was an always-angry Ethan.
I arranged my hair and applied a lipstick I had in my bag.
My wristwatch beeped. Like an alarm, but it wasn't one.
I raised the dress and rooted out my special phone from my thong. The phone was connected to my unassuming wristwatch and would beep if I received a text from a client.
I was on one mission, and now—here's another.
Or so I thought.
But it was just a message from Alex Grey.
"What is your progress?" it read.
He was the most impatient client I'd ever encountered.
"Stay glued to the news," I typed before stashing the phone away.
Coming out of the changing room, I found Ethan standing there.
"What took you so long?" he complained. "Let's go," he said, barely looking at me.
Wasn't he supposed to say something about the dress?
Hmph. And he had the audacity to talk about "normal" just minutes ago.
We went back to the car and zoomed of, soon we arrived at the conference hall.
"Are you ready?" Ethan asked, meeting my gaze.
"Yes," I nodded.
"No, you're not," he replied, pulling out a small velvet box.
I frowned, opening it—inside sat a breathtaking engagement ring.
This had to be worth millions.
I glanced up at him, doing my best to mask the swirl of thoughts in my head.
Silently, I slid the ring onto my finger. It slipped on like it was made for me.
"Now you are," he said.
We stepped out of the car, and he took my hand—his warm, broad palm engulfing mine, firmly.
Together, we walked into the hall.
Camera flashes exploded the moment we entered.
I felt like the center of the universe—the main character in a show I never auditioned for. All eyes were on me. Phones raised. Reporters scrambling to get the perfect shot of Ethan Petrov's fiancée.
I straightened my back, held my chin high, and smiled like I'd been born for this.
"Stop smiling. This isn't a red carpet," Ethan muttered under his breath.
I dropped the smile.
Of course. Did he expect everyone to scowl like him?
We climbed onto the podium. Ethan released my hand and stepped toward the microphone.
"Regarding what happened a few hours ago," he began. "There have been countless speculations. So let me clear the air."
He glanced at me briefly, then back at the crowd.
"This beautiful woman beside me is my fiancée. And yes, our wedding will be announced officially in the coming days. I hadn't intended to reveal it like this, but—some things just unfold on their own."
Murmurs rippled through the hall. Cameras kept on flashing.
"How long have you two been together?" one reporter called out.
"Three years," Ethan replied without hesitation.
Another jumped in, "There's been speculation that this engagement is conveniently timed—especially with the major contract you're bidding for. How would you respond to those who think this is just a PR stunt?"
Ethan's expression didn't falter. "I think that speculation is absurd," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I'm an extremely private person when it comes to my personal life. Marriage is about love, commitment, and loyalty—none of which should ever be used for a 'stunt.' Frankly, I can't believe someone would even conceive such an idea."
Then, he turned to me and took my hand. "I love Anna very much," he said, his eyes not leaving mine. "And I want to spend the rest of my life with her."
His green eyes didn't blink for once.
If I hadn't known better, I would've believed he meant every word.
The reporters seemed satisfied, murmuring among themselves, some already typing furiously on their keyboards, probably rushing to break the story first.
Soon, the conference came to an end.
And the hall slowly emptied out.
"You should have pursued an acting career instead," I said.
He looked at me. "I'd be successful at whatever I pursue," he said, and I rolled my eyes this time.
"Things went well. We have one more place to be before I let you go," he added.
"Mr. Successful Billionaire, I have other plans today, not following you around like some handbag," I said.
"I agree with you. If you hadn't barged into my life, I'd be in my office right now handling important business," he said.
I opened my mouth to speak, but a voice cut me off.
"Ethan?"
We both turned in the direction of the voice.
A woman was standing there—tall, long legs, with neatly curled black hair cascading down her neck.
Her eyes darted between me and Ethan, confusion written all over her face.
I looked at Ethan, whose expression had completely changed—his lips slightly parted, as he looked at
her.
She spun around and walked out of the hall in a hurry, and Ethan followed, almost immediately trying to catch up with her.
I had dug into Ethan's life—I knew everyone in it.
But that woman?
I didn't know her.