“Can’t you just come down and get me?”
“Are your legs broken? If they are and you can’t walk, I’ll come get you.”
Ethan hung up right away.
“So childish,” Isabella muttered, then went back to her script.
A couple of minutes later, Ethan showed up at her door, his face tight with annoyance. Isabella looked up and the first thing she noticed was the bouquet in his arms.
Oh. So that’s why he wanted her to come downstairs. He’d brought her flowers and wanted her to make a big deal out of it, maybe show off a little, make things look romantic.
“What wind blew you here, Ethan?” Isabella got up from behind her desk and walked over.
“Am I not allowed to stop by?”
“Of course you can. Your legs work just fine. But aren’t you busy? You always say I’m never home, but you’re just as bad.” She took the flowers from his arms like it was the most natural thing, studied them, and gave her verdict. “Your taste isn’t great. These aren’t as pretty as the ones I gave you last time.”
“You didn’t give them to me. I didn’t accept them. You took them back to your room to enjoy yourself,” Ethan pointed out.
“They were for you, whether you took them or not. It’s the thought that counts. I paid for them, I wasn’t about to throw them away. They looked nice in my vase anyway.”
Ethan held out two boxes of desserts.
“I know you like sweets, so I swung by The Cabinda Hotel and picked these up for you.”
Isabella took the boxes, went back to her desk, set the flowers down, and sat. She opened one of the dessert boxes, but before she could take a bite, she paused.
She looked up at him and asked, “Ethan, you show up out of nowhere with flowers and desserts. Come on, nobody does that for no reason. What do you want from me?”
Ethan glanced around her tiny office, then pulled out a chair and sat across from her.


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