His Ring Her Rules

Weddings were the dreams of some girls.

Meanwhile,offices were my dream. areas that are bold and eclectic. The glass door with my name on it. High stacks of design boards. customers who were not content with beige-on-beige minimalism.

The fragrance of coffee and fresh paint was constantly there in my dreams.

I was therefore already dubious when Ethan knocked on the open door to the nursery, coffee in one hand and a faint smirk in the other.

He questioned, "Am I breaking up a really heated staredown between you and the rocking chair?"

"It depends. Are you delivering croissants or condemnation?

With the arrogant satisfaction of someone who already knew the answer, he handed me a paper bag.

He responded, "Neither," and took out his phone. "Just a proposal."

I furrowed my brow. "What sort of offer?"

He handed me his phone and sat on the edge of the cot like it was a boardroom chair. A document—well, a business proposal—was displayed on the screen.

An actual one. Legalese. signatures. estimated expenses. My name.

I blinked. "This is a company registration."

He gave a nod. Interiors by Carter & Co. I have a spot reserved in Midtown already. Loft-style. dazzling light. Your vibe. Saying yes is all you need to do.

My throat constricted.

"Want to invest in my company?"

"Yes."

And give it the name Carter & Co.?

He cocked his head. "Too soon?"

I gazed at him, at his cool assurance, at the way he always pretended to have everything under control. I could practically sense how simple it would be to accept. to enter a dream I didn't create myself with the elegant key that most likely came with the lease.

But my chest twisted in some way. It was the same voice that had accompanied me during every waitressing work and every restless night when I drew furniture that I couldn't afford.

"No," I muttered.

Ethan blinked.

"Thank you," I mean. Actually. That is incredibly giving. However, I am unable to.

I realized I needed to clarify before he assumed it was a power move because his brows were wrinkled.

I answered, "I want to earn it." "Everything. The dream. The danger. The excitement of realizing it was me. that I had to fight to get there. Not because of my marriage.

Ethan was silent for a while. After drumming against his knee once, his fingers ceased.

"The majority of people would accept the gift, you know."

I gave him a little smile and remarked, "I'm not most people." "There are ten more cups of expensive cappuccino I'd rather serve than open a door I didn't unlock myself."

He gave me a long look before gently nodding. "All right. No freebies.

Indeed.

However, he continued, standing and wiping fictitious lint from his pants, "you know where to find me if you ever need a loan—with interest, of course."

I chuckled. "Are you using capitalism to flirt with me?"

He smirked as he turned to face the doorway. "Is it possible?"

"No, not at all."

However, I took another look at the proposal on his phone after he left the room. And my heart began to flutter in an odd way.

Since I didn't want the shortcut, but...

Knowing that someone thought I could construct the road was comforting.