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BROOKE
Two Months Later
A text from Ethan Knight, “requesting your help today” and a white chauffeured limousine have brought me to his penthouse.
“What am I doing here Ethan?”
Two months have gone by since the apology. I returned to work after he apologized, and Ethan Knight has kept his pact–so far. Our pact was to not allow things to get personal till the end of the year. There are still a few months to go.
“I just thought that it would be good if we met today.” He runs his long fingers through the wave of his dark hair, his blue eyes are even more prominent as he is wearing a dark blue cotton shirt that falls beautifully on him, loosely tucked in casual gray cotton pants. Even at home, lounging, he looks like a dream.
“You know we have this pact, right Ethan? But now instead of your office, I am in your penthouse. Could this be any more scandalous?”
He walks over to the large window that looks down on the rooftops of Manhattan.
I sense he wants to share something. The late afternoon sun paints him in glowing copper, as if he were a beautiful Greek statue.
“It’s my birthday,” he says, staring into the sky. “That’s all, really. I guess I shouldn’t have…”
I feel like an idiot, but a happy idiot that this reclusive, gorgeous man wants to share this special day with me. “Oh gosh! Happy Birthday Ethan! I am sorry, that was really rude of me; I did not know…”
“How could you know?” He smiles.
“Yeah, you could have told me, I could have gotten you a gift. Though honestly it would be a mind-boggling question. What does a woman buy for a billionaire who has everything?”
“Well sometimes, the best gift is not something you buy.”
“Okay… true.”
What on earth does this tall, gorgeous creature possibly want?
“All my life, I uh, on my birthdays, it was all our kitchen staff, or our pastry chef who baked for my birthday. They did a wonderful job, but I grew up wanting someone close to me to make something for me.”
Where is he going with this!
“Anyway, not important…” He stops mid-sentence. “Thank you for coming to see me.”
“Finish what you were saying Ethan. This whole British Mystery theater ends now! I know you have this English culture of bottling things inside and speaking in puzzles. If there is one thing you might not know about me, I am one curious girl and I don’t like unfinished sentences.”
Woah! Where did all that come from! I think I am too exhausted to pretend anymore. I am falling for this guy, and I am going to be myself.
“Alright, I want you to bake me a pizza.”
“I am sorry what?” I burst out laughing.
“Two pizzas, to be precise. Large size.”
What! Triple What! That came out of nowhere!
I start laughing and he stares at me with a serious face. “Ethan you are a billionaire, you can order the most delicious pizza in the city!”
“Will you, do it?” he asks. “I have the ingredients in the kitchen.”
“I mean, yeah if that’s the gift you want, I mean yeah. Okay, I mean yeah.”
Oh, such eloquence Brooke! He must think you are the most charming conversationalist in the world.
He walks me through a gleaming well-lit passage into a gleaming kitchen. The kitchen is larger than the size of five rooms. An expensive oven, with an exhaust resides in the middle. There are sleek machines and Greek mosaic tiles on the walls. The island for the kitchen is clearly made of some magnificent marble and the floor is all checkered with blue lapis lazuli and cream-colored tiles. And with the massive windows on one wall the tiles are splashed with sunlight and the white walls look like they were made from some creamy wedding cake. It is luxury with elegance.
