I woke up early the next morning, sipped my coffee, and reviewed Ethan's profile in preparation for our next session. The more I read through his background, the more it became clear just how isolated he truly was. Raised by a father who valued business above all else, he'd spent most of his life learning how to conquer the corporate world. Love, on the other hand, was foreign territory.
I could already tell our "training" wasn't going to be easy. Teaching a man like Ethan to open up? It was like trying to teach a shark to swim with the dolphins. But that's what I signed up for, and if anyone could get through to him, it had to be me.
"Morning," Zoe's voice wafted in from the kitchen, where she was brewing a cup of tea. "Already gearing up for your next session with the ice king?"
I groaned and ran a hand through my hair. "You have no idea. I'm literally trying to teach an android to have feelings."
She chuckled. "Hey, don't sell yourself short. You'll get through. The guy wouldn't have hired you if he didn't think you could help."
I wasn't so sure about that. Ethan was probably just doing what he thought was practical, hiring a matchmaker because that's what successful people did. But beneath all that, I hoped there was a part of him that genuinely wanted to change, to find something real.
"Yeah, well," I muttered, "let's see if he actually follows through.
Zoe sipped from her cup of tea, sending me a knowing glance. "Just don't fall for him yourself, okay? It's always the cold ones that end up under your skin."
I laughed, brushing off her warning. "Trust me, there's no chance of that happening. The guy can barely hold a conversation, let alone romance someone.
Zoe raised an eyebrow. "You'd be surprised. Sometimes the hardest cases are the ones that turn into something unexpected."
I shook my head, dismissing the idea. Ethan was a client, nothing more. He was a project-a puzzle I needed to solve. And if I let myself get emotionally involved, I'd only complicate things.
***
Later that afternoon I found myself once more in the sleek, sterile environs of Cole Tower, waiting once again for Ethan, in his oversized office. He appeared right on time as he invariably did. His expression was about as readable as it ever was. From the tense motions-harsh, controlled-I could tell he was less than comfortable with the situation, which made two of us.
So, how's your homework?" I asked crossing my arms, leaning back against his desk. It was our second session, and I'd tasked him with something simple: observe the people around him, try to pick up on subtle emotional cues. I wanted to see if he could recognize vulnerability, empathy, even affection in others.
He raised an eyebrow. "Homework?
"Yes, homework," I replied, smiling wryly. "I asked you to observe how people interact with one another. Not all of relationships are made up of words; there is body language and emotional sensitivity too."
He sat in the chair facing me and folded his hands in front. "I did that, like you asked. But I don't see how observing other people is going to help me find a match."
I sighed. This would be even more of an uphill battle than I expected. "It's not just about finding a match; it's about knowing how to connect. Without reading emotions, you will not be able to understand someone on a deeper level.
Ethan leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm not into dramas and emotional games. I need someone who understands the demands of my life and doesn't complicate it."
"There's that word again, 'complicate,'" I said, shaking my head. "You can't avoid emotions, Ethan. Even the most successful relationship requires some kind of vulnerability.
He didn't say anything, but the clenching of his jaw told me everything I needed to know: He wasn't used to people challenging him this much. Within his world, vulnerability was a weakness-a flaw. In relationships, though, it meant everything.
"You think romance is about flowers and grand gestures," I said, pushing on. "But it's more than that. It's about being open and letting someone see who you are without the walls you build around yourself to protect your entities."
His blue eyes locked onto mine, colder than ever. "I'm not interested in being dissected, Ms. Hastings. My personal life isn't up for analysis."
"I am not trying to analyze you," I said in a soft voice. "But, in the end, you have to see that love is not a thing one can control, that one cannot structure like a business.
There was a long silence. The silence stretched between us like jelly. A part of me wondered if I had pushed too far, if he was going to shut down, to send me out of his door. Instead, he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving mine.
"And if I don't believe in love?" he asked softly, his voice dangerously calm.
I froze. His words hung in the air like a cold mist. For the very first time, I saw a glimpse of the man beneath the cold exterior—a man that had been hurt, or just too careful to ever allow himself to feel.
"Then why are you here?" I asked, matching his tone. "Why hire me at all if you don't believe in love?"
Ethan stared at me for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. Finally, he rose and walked to the huge windows that overlooked the city. His back was to me, and for the first time I saw something akin to a crack in his armor.
"I don't know," he said low. "Maybe I'm trying to prove something. Maybe I want to see if it's possible at all."
A pang of sympathy hit me. For all his wealth, success, and power, Ethan Cole was as lost as anyone else when it came to love. Maybe even more.
I rose and strode over to join him, keeping a respectful distance. "It is possible," I said softly. "But you have to be willing to take the risk."
He said nothing, but I knew a war waged behind those glacier eyes. I wasn't sure he would ever say it out loud, but deep in there, he was asking for more. He wanted something real. He just didn't know how to reach for it.
"I'm not asking you to change overnight," I said, turning to face him. "But if you want a real connection, you gotta start by opening up and letting someone in."
Ethan said nothing more, instead looking out over the city. I knew his mind was going a mile a minute, chewing on all that I had said, but if he'd take that first step? That remained to be seen.
***
The next few weeks were a tightrope balance between moving forward and digging in one's heels. I set up practice dates, coached him on communication techniques, and even introduced him to a few women who on paper really did seem like perfect matches. But there was always something lacking. Ethan remained detached, unwilling to let his guard down.
One evening, after yet another failed practice session, I sat in my office in a boiling cauldron of frustration. Zoe walked in with a bottle of wine, sensing my mood before I was able to say one word.
"Rough day with Mr. Iceberg?" she asked, splashing two glasses.
"You have no idea," I groaned, accepting the glass. "I don't know what else to do. It's like he's physically incapable of connecting with anyone. Every time I think we're making progress, he just shuts down again."
Zoe raised one eyebrow. "Maybe you're going about it the wrong way."
I looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
She leaned against my desk, her gaze thoughtful. "You've been trying to teach him how to be romantic, how to connect with people. But maybe he needs to be shown what it feels like, instead of just learning it."
I frowned. "Show him? How?
Zoe shrugged, sipping her wine. "You know better than I do, but sometimes people don't learn by being told what to do. They learn by actually experiencing it. Maybe he needs to feel what it is like to really care about someone.
And that was like a ton of bricks falling on me, because she was right, and I'd been trying to teach Ethan step by step, like some great pupil. Love didn't come from a book, though-it had to be felt.
My mind was racing as I stared down into my glass. If Ethan was ever going to open up, I needed to find a way to make him *feel* what it was like to connect, to care.
But how was I supposed to take a man like Ethan Cole-who guarded his emotions like a fortress-and make him experience something he'd spent his whole life avoiding?
Then it hit me.
I'd have to be the one to show him.