Page 159 of Ethan: The Untouchable CEO

Forcing a small laugh that barely resembles a real reaction, I follow her up the stairs, each step feeling heavier than it should.

Upstairs, doors start opening, some of the guys already disappearing into their rooms, while Nick, Sierra, and Colt continue toward the next floor.

The same floor I have to go to.

Because that’s where Ethan’s bedroom is.

I follow them anyway, even as my heart refuses to slow down, pounding hard and relentless, like it’s trying to break free from my chest.

There has to be a way out of this.

Right now, sharing a room with any of the other guys sounds infinitely better.

I’m sure if I asked, none of them would refuse. They’ve always treated me like a sister, and I know they still do.

I just need to wait… Wait until John and Sara go to bed, then talk to the guys, figure a plan out, fix this before it becomes real.

But, of course, nothing ever works that easily for me.

Nick stops in front of the last door, leaving my suitcase there without hesitation, then heads into his and Sierra’s room.

And before I can react, before I can say a word, John steps forward, takes the suitcase, and knocks on Ethan’s door.

God, please.

Teleport me. Anywhere. Right now.

When there’s no response, Sara knocks too, louder this time, more insistent.

And that’s when the door finally opens.

Ethan stands here, a towel hanging low on his hips, water still clinging to his skin, nothing else covering him.

At the exact same moment, doors open behind us—Sierra, Nick, Colt stepping out, while from the stairs Theo, Kai, Noah, Chris, and Ryan appear, coming up from below, drawn by curiosity.

Ethan’s gaze moves over all of us before he asks, “What’s going on here?”

He leans against the doorframe, completely at ease, completely unbothered—like he doesn’t look the way he does, like he doesn’t have that effect, like the sight of him doesn’t make my thoughts slip somewhere dangerous, somewhere I don’t want them to go.

God, Thalia. Stop.

Laughter breaks out around me—everyone, without exception, entertained, not even trying to hide it.

And I… I stay where I am, leaning back against the wall, my gaze fixed on the floor, unable—unwilling—to look at him.

I can’t.

I just can’t.

“Thalia’s going to sleep here,” John says, like it’s the simplest statement in the world.

My knees nearly give out.

If the wall wasn’t behind me, I’m not even sure I’d still be standing. My fingers press firmly against it, grounding myself, trying to stay upright—but my breathing…

What do I even do with my breathing?

Because suddenly, I don’t know how it works.