As the meetings wore on, Ethan could barely concentrate, all he could think of was Ruby. Ruby, Ruby, Ruby. That was all that lived in his mind.
He cursed himself for allowing himself to care so deeply about her. He blamed it on his emotional vulnerability.
"Ethan?" Jack peeped into the board room. "Hunter is here to see you."
Immediately, Ethan's face steeled. Why was Hunter here to see him?
He excused himself from the meeting and followed Jack out.
"Why is that weasel here?" he asked Jack, who shrugged, not knowing himself.
"He is getting beaten if he says something stupid," Jack warned Ethan, who chuckled.
Ethan had not spoken to Hunter directly ever since he saw him on top of his wife that fated day. Some imagery.
With a deep inhale, he opened the door to his office and stepped in. There sat Hunter at the table, his smug smile immediately irritating the CEO.
"What do you want, Hunter?" Ethan asked, taking his place at the table as well, while Jack sat beside him.
"Is that a way to talk to one of your shareholders?" Hunter asked. He was a tall, curly brown-haired man who looked as striking as Ethan did.
"It's a way to talk to a man with no morals," Ethan stated with a straight face. "Get to the point now."
Hunter leaned back in his chair with a sly grin. "I was talking to some of the other board members, and I think some of them want a change in the, uh, CEO position…"
"Some of them?" Ethan smirked, "you're really going to play this game with me. You know mother is on the board of members and she would never allow this. She has the highest shares."
"Not yet…" Hunter stood up with a determined look in his eyes. There was a gleam in them that Ethan recognised. It was one he had seen before. The very same gleam stared at him when Hunter had taken Ethan's first car. It was the one Hunter had when he first stole Ethan's highschool girlfriend. Every time Hunter took something that Ethan had, he would look at him with that same look.
Ethan had grown to know and hate it. He watched Hunter walk out of the room and then sighed.
"You saw that look in his face?" Jack asked and Ethan nodded.
"He has something up his sleeve," looking at his friend, Jack realised that Ethan was truly stressed, there was a world of worry on his shoulders and there was nothing that Jack could do about it.
"Why did you walk out so suddenly yesterday? The Japanese investors were concerned but I handled it." Jack sat across Ethan who frowned.
"Oh uhm, I had a friend who needed me." Ethan clarified.
"A friend?" Jack asked with a raised brow, "Which one?"
"You wouldn't know her… she-"
"She…?" Jack smirked, "And who is this lady who could take you away from such an important meeting with just a call."
"She… uhm,"Ethan struggled to try and find a way to explain who Ruby was, "you're going to judge me."
"Have I ever judged you?" Jack chuckled, "Is this some girl you're seeing?"
"We aren't seeing each other…but she's someone… someone special." He conceded, "I wish she wasn't…"
"Why not? You deserve happiness too…"
"Its complicated." Ethan sighed, "Forget it. Just look into Hunter and try to check on what he's doing. I'll check with mom on if he has mentioned anything to her."
Ethan looked down at his phone as Jack let himself out. There was no text or call from Ruby and he wondered if this was it. Would he never see her again. The thought alone made his gut feel hollow. He had finally found a friend and now he would never see her again?
The ringing of the phone startled him and he franctically looked at his screen and saw Ruby's name on it.
"Meet at 9?"
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The alley behind the bar reeked of spilled beer and old cigarettes. A flickering streetlamp overhead buzzed like it was barely holding on. Trash bins lined the brick wall, and the back door to the bar thudded every few minutes as someone staggered out for a smoke.
She was waiting there, half in shadow, her face covered by the mask she wore like a second skin. But tonight, it didn't shimmer. It didn't tease. It just… concealed.
Ethan spotted her before she saw him. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, leather jacket zipped up, head low like the weight of the city had finally crushed her. She wasn't Ruby tonight. She was someone else. Someone quieter. Smaller.
He approached slowly, boots crunching on gravel. She didn't look up.
"You chose one hell of a meeting spot," he said, trying to keep it light.
"I didn't want people around," she murmured. Her voice was soft and thin, like something unraveling. "I almost didn't come."
"But you did," he said gently.
She finally looked at him. Just a flicker beneath the mask. Enough for him to see the sadness pressed into the corners of her eyes. He didn't ask why she'd gone silent for three days. He didn't ask why she looked like she'd been walking through a storm.
He knew she wouldn't say. Not yet.
So he stepped closer and pulled something out from inside his coat pocket—a crumpled brown paper bag, slightly stained from the contents inside.
She frowned. "What's that?"
"Don't judge it by the packaging," he said with a crooked grin.
He opened it slowly, revealing two sloppy, over-frosted cupcakes. One had a crack down the middle, and the other looked like it had been dropped at least once. They looked ridiculous.
"Seriously?" she said, her brow arching beneath the mask.
"Emergency cupcakes," he said. "From the gas station on 12th. Used to be my mom's secret weapon."
She tilted her head, curious despite herself.
"One time when I was a kid," Ethan said, his voice softening, "we had this awful day. My dad had just left again, we had about eight bucks between us, and it was pouring. She dragged me into that gas station and bought the only thing that looked remotely cheerful—two messed-up cupcakes with neon frosting and too many sprinkles."
Ruby looked down at the cupcakes in the bag, then back at him.
"She told me, 'We can't afford a lot right now, but we can afford something sweet.'" He smiled faintly. "They tasted terrible. But we laughed so hard, sitting in the car with the windows fogged up. It was the first time that day we forgot how bad everything felt."
Her lips twitched. A slow, reluctant smile that never quite reached her eyes. "So this is your version of therapy?"
"Crisis carbs," he said. "Time-tested. Low expectations. High sugar."
She let out a small breath of a laugh. It wasn't much—but it was something. She reached out, took the better-looking cupcake, and leaned back against the wall beside him.
He didn't press her. Didn't ask. Just stood in the quiet with her, eating cheap cupcakes beneath the hum of the streetlamp.
Finally, she whispered, "Thanks for not asking."
He glanced at her, voice steady. "Thanks for showing up."