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He’s already sitting down, leaning back fully in the chair as he stares at me without moving a muscle.
Closing the laptop, I hold his stare for a few silent moments before dragging a hand through my hair and rising from my chair.
“You’re absolutely out of control with these races,” he finally says, breaking the silence.
That surprises me. Normally, Ethan would’ve kept staring until I spoke first, weighing the situation and deciding how serious it really was.
“I don’t care what’s happening in your personal life,” he continues just as coldly, “but you made me a promise, and I’m here to make sure you keep it.”
Of course he figured out why I’ve been racing. And, of course, he doesn’t bring it up directly.
He never inserts himself into anyone’s private life—not even ours. He doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t pry for details. The only time he gets involved is when there’s a problem he wants to fix—like when Nick was accused of cheating on Sierra.
Other than that, he offers support in every possible way if you ask for it, but he’s never been curious simply for the sake of knowing things.
And right now, I’m more grateful for that than ever.
Because I wouldn’t have answers for any question he could ask me.
Turning my back to him, I stare out the window, forcing my thoughts into some semblance of order.
“There’s not a single article left online about the races,” I tell him.
“I couldn’t care less about the articles or the press, Zayn,” he replies immediately.
“Then why are you here?” I ask, turning to face him. “You didn’t stop me before. You came now when…”
“Now when it’s clearly becoming a habit,” he cuts in with a pointed glare. “You’re using the races to keep your anger under control.”
Leaning back against the glass wall, I cross my arms over my chest. I don’t respond because he’s right, and we both know it.
“If you don’t stop, I promise you those races won’t exist anymore,” he says in that CEO tone—the one that leaves no room for negotiation. The tone that almost nobody dares challenge.
There are exceptions.
Thalia, for example.
Me…
“I can assure you those races will happen whenever and however I want them to,” I shoot back.
Pushing himself out of the chair, he walks to me slowly.
“If I have to fight you to stop them from happening,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of warning, “and to stop you from participating in them, I promise you I’ll do it without hesitation.”
“What exactly do you have against them, Ethan?” I throw my hands up, taking a few steps closer to him. “You’ve participated in plenty…”
“Enough to know how dangerous they are,” he interrupts sharply.
Laughing darkly, I stop in front of him.
“Don’t tell me you’re suddenly scared of them.”
“I’m scared something will happen to you,” he snaps, raising his voice.
The words hit me so unexpectedly that I actually stop talking and moving.
Ethan never raises his voice. He never has to. All it takes is one sentence in his usual calm tone for people to understand whether they can negotiate or not.
