Page 58 of Jealous Boss

That stops him.

His expression shifts. It's not softer, but it's... something else. Possessive in a way that feels darker, more intense.

"I know," he says. "Maybe that's the problem."

I bite my lip and look down at my plate, heart thudding in my ears.

The food is beautiful—some elegant arrangement of seared scallops and champagne foam—but I can barely taste anything. My appetite left the second his hand slid along my thigh under the table and stayed there.

After a while, I gather the nerve to ask. "Have you... um. Have you spoken to my uncle since he went on vacation?"Or specifically since we fucked on Friday night?

Silence. I glance up.

Ethan's expression doesn't change, but the air around him tightens like a storm cloud. "No," he says. Then lifts his wine glass and adds,

"And we're not talking about Philip tonight."

"But—"

"You're moving in with me."

I blink at the abrupt change of subject. "What?"

"You eat all your meals at my place, you're sleeping in my bed now, and the last time I saw your fridge it was still holding one sad carton of oat milk and half-melted ice cream."

My mouth opens. Closes. "That's not?—"

"You live with me already," he says simply. "You just haven't accepted it yet."

I stare at him, heart thudding. "You can't just—decide that. What if I like my space?"

He lifts one brow. "Do you?"

I hesitate. Then shake my head. "No. I likeyourspace."

His smile is slow and satisfied and completely infuriating.

I roll my eyes, but my heart is doing somersaults. Still, I try again. Gently this time. "But my uncle..."

Ethan puts down his fork with precision and leans in, close enough for his words to land straight against my lips.

"I'll take care of it, Pia."

I frown. "But?—"

His voice drops, soft and lethal. "I said I'll take care of it."

My breath catches.

It's not a suggestion. It's a vow. A promise wrapped in steel.

I nod, because I don't know what else to do. Because the look in his eyes tells me the subject is closed.

But, as the waiter comes to clear our plates and Ethan orders dessert for me without asking—because of course he knows what I like—I can't help but feel the little prickle of fear under all the heat.

Because if he takes on my uncle the way he does everything else—ruthless, strategic, unstoppable—what happens if it doesn't go the way he plans?

What happens tous?

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