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He solves my dilemma by leaning in and placing a soft kiss on my lips—brief but sexy, a perfect middle ground.
“You look beautiful,” he says, taking in my dress. “I like the green.”
“You mentioned that once.” I’m happy he noticed. “What are you cooking? It smells amazing.”
“Organic beef stew with vegetables.” He leads me deeper into the apartment, his hand touching the small of my back. “Wine? I have a Sauvignon Blanc that should pair well.”
“Sounds perfect.” I follow him to the kitchen, admiring both the apartment and its owner with equal appreciation. Ethan in casual clothes—jeans and a simple button-down with rolled sleeves revealing muscular forearms—is a different but very appealing version of the polished CEO.
He pours two glasses of wine, handing one to me. “How does it feel to be back on land?”
“Strange,” I admit, taking a sip. The wine is excellent, crisp and bright. “My apartment feels the same and yet foreign.”
“I know what you mean.” He returns to stirring the stew. “I spent two hours yesterday staring at acquisition reports and realizing I no longer see them with quite the same priorities.”
“Because of the environmental report?” I ask, leaning against the counter beside him.
“Because of you,” he says simply, meeting my eyes. “Your perspective has... shifted things for me.”
The directness of his response catches me off guard. “That’s... good, I think?”
“It is. Challenging, but good.” He smiles. “How’s theexposecoming along?”
“First draft is almost complete. I’m being thorough—documenting both the positives and the areas needing improvement.” I take another sip of wine. “My publisher is unhappy with my balanced approach. They wanted more scandal.”
“And you’re giving them truth instead. How inconvenient for their marketing department.”
I laugh, relaxing. This is the easy banter we had on the ship, the connection that goes deeper than physical attraction.
“Truth is my only non-negotiable,” I tell him. “Even when it’s inconvenient for me.”
“That’s what makes your opinion so valuable,” he says, adding fresh herbs to the stew. “And it’s why I trust your findings, even if they’re critical.”
“There will be criticisms,” I warn him. “The waste system maintenance issues, the excessive food waste, the still-too-high carbon footprint of the older ships in your fleet.”
“I know.” He tastes the stew, adjusts seasoning. “We have room for improvement. But you’ve also noted our legitimateconservation efforts, our expansion of sustainable seafood sourcing, our marine habitat protection initiatives.”
“I have,” I confirm. “It’s a mixed picture. Like most things in real life.”
“Speaking of mixed pictures,” he says, gesturing toward the dining area visible through an archway. “Shall we eat? The stew is ready.”
The dining table is already set—simple but elegant, with linen napkins and handmade pottery dishes. A small arrangement of seasonal flowers forms the centerpiece—nothing ostentatious, just thoughtfully selected blooms.
“Your apartment isn’t what I expected,” I comment as he serves the food.
“What were you expecting? Gold fixtures and priceless art?” He looks amused.
“Maybe? Something more... flashy.”
“Not my style.” He takes the seat across from me. “I prefer functionality and comfort over flashy. Though I admit, the view is an indulgence.”
He’s right—the city sparkles beyond the windows, lights flickering on as dusk settles, the Hudson River reflecting the sunset in shades of pink and gold.
“It’s beautiful,” I acknowledge, then taste the food. “This is delicious. Where did you learn to cook?”
“My grandfather,” he answers, surprising me again. “He believed every man should know how to prepare food. Said it was a life skill, not a luxury. We spent many evenings in thegalley of his yacht, with him teaching me how to make the most of a fresh catch.”
The image of a young Ethan learning to cook from his grandfather creates an unexpected warmth in my chest. “That sounds like a special relationship.”