The Paper Wife’s Empire novel Chapter 105

For some reason, the more Ramona looked at Ethan’s strikingly handsome, aloof face, the more she wanted to tease him.

Back when she watched movies like this, Ramona had just wanted a little thrill. But tonight was different. Tonight, she wanted to see Ethan get spooked.

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Ethan murmured, his eyes leaving the screen to glance at her as she snuggled closer.

The blue light from the TV played across her face, her hair a bit tousled, a hint of tipsy mischief still in her eyes. She looked so beautiful, it was almost distracting.

“Well, Mr. Jordon, you must be braver than me. If I get scared and scream later, you’ll have to protect me.”

“Alright,” Ethan replied, and without hesitation, he reached over and pulled her gently against his shoulder. “If you’re uncomfortable, just lean on me. That should help you feel safer.”

It really did. As long as Ethan was there, Ramona realized she could barely follow the plot of the horror movie, and nothing seemed frightening anymore.

She let herself fully relax, and before long, her body grew heavier; nestled against his side, she slipped right onto his lap, her head resting across his folded legs.

Ethan paused in surprise and quietly called her name, but Ramona was already fast asleep.

On the screen, the movie had reached its creepiest scene: the ghostly figure was about to appear, and the protagonist was running for his life.

Ethan hurriedly reached for the remote and turned down the volume.

…

The next morning.

When Ramona woke up, she was curled up in her own soft bed.

Her first thought was of Ethan—they’d been in the living room together last night, cuddled up watching a movie.

She couldn’t remember a thing about the plot, but she did remember how it felt with Ethan by her side.

Ramona crept out of her bedroom and was surprised to see Ethan sleeping on the couch. She’d assumed he’d left long ago.

His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, a thin blanket thrown carelessly over him. He was curled up on his side. The couch wasn’t small, but next to his tall, broad frame, it looked uncomfortably cramped.

“Mr. Jordon…” Ramona knelt by the sofa, whispering his name.

She felt a twinge of guilt. If she had known he hadn’t left, she would have let him use the guest room. He’d just finished days of nonstop work, and she wasn’t sure if he’d fully recovered from being sick.

But his breathing was deep and even, and Ramona couldn’t bring herself to wake him.

After that soft call, she simply stayed by his side, her gaze lingering on his face. She hadn’t noticed before how long his eyelashes were, casting faint shadows beneath his eyes.

Without thinking, she reached out, her fingertips brushing lightly over his lashes.

In that instant, Ethan’s eyes fluttered open.

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