The days following the party had been a blur of emotions for both Quinn and Ethan, but while Quinn kept herself busy with work and social distractions, Ethan spent his time obsessing over every moment they shared. Her coldness lingered like a shadow, and the more he tried to reach out, the more she pulled away.
He had spent hours wondering where he went wrong. Was it the misunderstanding with Lydia at the mall? Had he done something to make Quinn feel like he wasn't worth her time? Or worse—had she moved on without him?
One afternoon, unable to shake the frustration, Ethan showed up at Quinn's office, determined to talk to her face-to-face. He was done waiting for her to reply to his messages or return his calls. He needed answers.
He stood in the lobby for a moment, nervously adjusting his jacket. He had never been so unsure of himself in front of her. But there was no going back now.
As he was about to approach the front desk, the elevator doors slid open, and there she was—looking like she had just stepped out of one of her high-end ad campaigns, effortlessly chic, yet somehow distant. Quinn's eyes locked with his for a split second, and there was something in her gaze that stopped him in his tracks.
"Ethan?" she asked, her voice the calm kind of indifferent he'd gotten used to in recent days. She didn't smile, didn't seem surprised to see him. It was as if his presence had no effect on her at all.
"Quinn," he replied, his voice strained but trying to sound normal. "Can we talk?"
She raised an eyebrow, clearly sizing him up. "You're really pushing it, aren't you?" she said, her words sharp, yet there was a hint of something else beneath her cool exterior—something he couldn't quite place.
"I need to understand what's going on with us," Ethan said, his frustration creeping into his voice. "You've been avoiding me for days, and I—"
Quinn cut him off, holding up her hand. "Ethan, please. I don't want to talk about *us* right now. I've got a lot going on," she said, her tone final, yet her eyes betrayed a flicker of hesitation.
Ethan clenched his fists, determined not to back down. "I don't care what's going on with you. I care about *this*—whatever this is between us. I care about you."
Quinn shook her head slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I thought we agreed that this was a business arrangement, Ethan," she said, her voice tinged with something that sounded almost like annoyance. "You've got your life, I've got mine. We both knew the deal."
"That's the thing, Quinn," he said, his voice low but filled with raw emotion. "The deal was never supposed to feel like a *deal*. I've been trying to make it more than that, and you keep pushing me away. It's like you've built this wall between us, and I don't know how to get through it."
Quinn looked at him for a long moment, her eyes scanning his face as if trying to find the answer to a question she wasn't sure she even wanted to ask. Finally, she let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly.
"Maybe that's the problem, Ethan," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "You don't get it. You *don't* get it. You're not supposed to. And I don't think you ever will."
Ethan was about to speak, to plead with her to see things from his perspective, but she turned her back on him before he could get a word out.
"I need some space, okay?" Quinn said, not looking back. "I'll see you around."
With that, she stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed with a soft whoosh, leaving Ethan standing alone in the lobby. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with questions he couldn't answer. He had wanted clarity, but now he just felt more lost than ever.
---
For the next few days, Quinn threw herself into her work, determined to bury herself in the demands of her companies. She had always been able to control everything around her—except for Ethan. And that was what terrified her. She couldn't handle being vulnerable again. She couldn't handle the thought of giving him the power to hurt her.
But no matter how many times she buried herself in spreadsheets or strategizing meetings, Quinn couldn't shake the memory of Ethan's face—the way he'd looked at her with such intensity, such frustration, as if he had no idea what had changed between them.
It made her question herself. Was she being unfair? Was she pushing him away just because of a misunderstanding? Or was there something deeper, something she hadn't wanted to face?
The truth was, she didn't know.
One evening, as Quinn sat in her office, staring at the latest round of reports, her phone buzzed with a message notification. She stared at it for a moment, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the name on the screen: **Ethan**.
She stared at the text, her finger hovering over the screen as she debated whether to open it.
*"I miss you, Quinn. Let's talk. I want to fix this."*
The words hit her like a wave, crashing through the walls she had so carefully built around her heart. She had never been the type to wear her emotions on her sleeve, but something about Ethan's message broke through all of that.
Her hand hovered over her phone, and she felt a strange mix of anger, confusion, and longing.
But she couldn't reply. Not yet. Not until she figured out what *this*—this strange, complicated mess between them—really meant. Because deep down, she knew that if she let herself care again, if she let herself fall for him, there was a chance she might lose everything.
Quinn sighed, tossing the phone back onto the desk. For now, she could only keep running.
---
Later that night, as she left her office and stepped into the dimly lit streets, Quinn couldn't help but feel the weight of everything pressing down on her. She had made it this far on her own, built an empire, surrounded herself with people who admired her strength. But this—this thing with Ethan—it was different. And it scared her more than anything else ever had.
It wasn't just the business arrangement anymore. It wasn't just an agreement to keep up appearances.
It was real.
And that was the scariest part.
As Quinn walked into the night, her mind a whirlwind of emotions, one thing was clear: she was no longer in control of this. And that thought terrified her more than she cared to admit.