Chasing the Flame

CHAPTER SEVEN

ETHAN

Hearts are wild creatures that's why our ribs are cages.

POV

My gaze lingered on her face, searching for the scar I'd imagined, but there was none. Her skin was flawless—free of any blemishes or the touch of makeup. I was taken aback. There really were women who went out without a single trace of foundation or powder. Her natural beauty caught me off guard.

Her eyes, a soft blend of hazel and dark brown, drew me in like magnetic poles pulling me closer. There was something both compelling and mysterious about them, as though they concealed untold stories. My eyes wandered down the curve of her figure, pausing at her small waist. A strange stirring rose in my chest, a feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time.

Damn it.

It couldn't be her. The woman I was thinking of—the one who haunted my thoughts—was wild, untamed, unpredictable. But this girl, Kimberly, seemed completely different. She was meek, even a little naive, almost innocent in her demeanor. No, there was no way they could be the same person.

Still, I couldn't help but be amused by her. The way she scratched her forehead when she was embarrassed—it was oddly endearing. And how on earth had she made it this far without submitting her documents for the interview? She was clumsy, almost ridiculous in her approach, yet there was something about her that intrigued me.

As I stood there, rubbing my neck and feeling the weight of exhaustion, I realized I hadn't slept properly in days. The preparations for the upcoming fundraising event had consumed me. I wanted it to be flawless, a grand success that could benefit the entire company. Everyone depended on me, and failure wasn't an option. If I failed, people would lose their jobs; some of our staff wouldn't have food on their tables.

Despite everything on my plate, I still found myself compelled to help Kimberly. I had even gone so far as to present her documents to the president of the company—my father, a man who demanded perfection and allowed no room for weakness. His response was predictably strict. "Rules are rules, Ethan," he said coldly. "Once they're broken, people take advantage. And why are you even interested in this girl?"

He had a point. I didn't know why I felt the need to help her. Maybe it was the defiance in her eyes, the quiet sadness she worked so hard to conceal. Or maybe it was something deeper. Damn it! Since when did I care so much about some random woman?

But I couldn't shake the feeling that she reminded me of someone from my past.

I had fully intended to tell Kimberly there was no hope for her, that she wasn't going to get the job. Yet when I looked into those calm, soulful eyes again, something inside me shifted. My mind raced, and before I knew it, I was offering her an alternative.

"You could work for me," I said, my voice firm. "Take care of my apartment, cook my meals, handle small tasks."

I almost wanted to add 'and share my bed,' but I knew better. If I dared utter such a thing, I was sure she'd glare at me with that fiery determination she kept hidden beneath her surface.

Kimberly seemed conflicted, her head bowed as she studied her hands, clearly unsure of how to respond. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she finally looked up.

"I'm sorry, I can't," she said, scratching her forehead, a nervous habit I had already grown accustomed to.

"Why not?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"I'm not looking to be anyone's slave. And besides, the pay would probably be too small. I planned on working for a smaller company where I could grow. I'm sorry, sir, but I think I've already overstepped my limits."

Instead of being offended by her rejection, I found myself more intrigued. She wasn't just another desperate applicant. There was pride in her—pain too, but also a strength she probably didn't realize she had.

"Two thousand dollars a month," I said, my eyes flicking to her worn-out bag and her pale, delicate hands.

She froze, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes widened in shock.

"Are you serious?" she gasped, unable to hide her disbelief.

"I don't joke around," I replied, my tone unwavering. "All you have to do is keep my apartment in order. Make sure everything runs smoothly."

Her face lit up with an enthusiasm that took me by surprise. She practically leapt from her chair, her smile exposing a row of perfect, white teeth. There was something infectious about her happiness, a joy that made my heart race for reasons I couldn't quite explain. Normally, I would have been irritated by such an outburst, but with Kimberly, it was different. She was different.

"Thank you, sir! I'll do it," she said, barely able to contain her excitement.

"Good. It's settled then," I replied, working to keep my face expressionless, though I found her excitement oddly captivating. "Be at my apartment by 8 a.m. sharp. That's all for now."

I dismissed her abruptly, not wanting to linger on the strange feelings stirring inside me. I had learned long ago to keep my emotions in check, to present a tough, unyielding exterior. In my world, any display of vulnerability could be used as a weapon against you.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Salvaire!" she said, her voice bubbling with gratitude. For a moment, I thought she was going to fling her arms around me, but she held back.

I cleared my throat. "One more thing, Miss Stafford."

She paused, waiting for me to continue.

"When we're alone," I said quietly, "call me Ethan."

Her eyes softened, and she smiled shyly. "Okay... Ethan."