Ethan's POV
The daylight peered through my slightly opened eyes. I grunted, a mild throb pulsing at the back of my head. Turning to the other side of the bed, I saw someone lying next to me.
"I'm definitely seeing things," I thought, struggling to open my eyes fully.
Then I felt something against my legs. Glancing down under the duvet, I saw a leg—someone's leg—resting on mine.
What the fuck?!
I jolted upright, flinging the leg off me.
Staring back at the person beside me was a woman—her thick brown hair reminded me of how much I loved my morning coffee. It was messy, strands falling across her face.
Her expression was serene, a contrast to the confusion swirling inside me.
I looked down at my body and let out a relieved sigh. Thank God I was fully clothed. So was she.
I just couldn't fathom how she ended up in my bed. I remembered perfectly well how I'd come to the hotel to spend the night, and how I'd fallen asleep after a sudden rush of dizziness— definitely due to stress.
I stared back at her, her peaceful sleeping face only fueling my anger. My nostrils flared as I blew out hot air.
I had millions of questions, and this strange woman was the only one who could answer them.
Without hesitation, I reached out and shook her shoulders roughly.
"Hey! Get up!" I roared.
"This is insane," I muttered, watching her long lashes flutter and her brows furrow.
I was ready to pour the entire bottle of water from the bedside table over her face if she didn't wake up soon.
But as if she'd read my mind, she suddenly jolted upright, eyes wide with shock.
I wasn't prepared for what happened next—she let out an ear-splitting scream.
Instinctively, I lunged forward and covered her mouth.
"Can you calm the fuck down?" I snarled. If anyone should be screaming, it was me.
She nodded gently, her eyes still wide as if they might pop out of their sockets.
I slowly removed my hands from her mouth.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice husk.
"I should be the one asking you that question," she shot back without hesitation.
What the...
I pushed myself up from the bed. "You'd be joking if you said you don't know me. But that's not even the point. Now you better start explaining how the hell you got into my room—unnoticed—and in my bed!"
She looked away, her eyes scanning the room like she was trying to make sense of where she was.
"Miss? I'm asking you a question. You don't know the trouble you just caused yourself."
"Mr—"
"Ethan Petrov," I cut her off sharply.
"I don't know why you're questioning me when it should be the other way around," she said, meeting my gaze.
I had never been more amused and irritated in my entire life.
"I think you're sick," I sneered, "and the cops would be the ones to cure that illness."
"Fucking pervert," I grumbled as I punched in my phone to call the police.
Just then, the doorbell rang. It had to be Mr. Parker. I'd make him handle the hotel management while I dealt with the police.
I strode to the door, shooting the woman a deadly glare as I passed her. By the time I was done with her, she'd spill everything—answer every single one of my questions.
But when I swung the door open, what greeted me was far from what I expected.
Camera flashes exploded in my face, the sudden brightness nearly blinding me.
"Is it true there's a woman in the room?"
"Are you finally seeing someone?"
The paparazzi bombarded me with questions, practically shoving their microphones into my face.
I was too surprised to react, completely caught off guard.
"That's a fal—" I started, but before I could finish, a voice interrupted me.
"Is everything alright, Ethan?"
I turned around and nearly banged my hands on my head.
"What the actual fuck is this woman?"
The paparazzi instantly shifted their attention to her, their cameras flashing wildly as they snapped pictures from every angle.
"Since when have you been seeing Mr. Petrov?" one woman pressed, mic held firmly.
No response.
"What's your name?"
She leaned closer to the mic, her voice timid.
"I'm Anna. Anna Walter."
The flashes intensified, and the questions kept coming, but she shrank back, acting like she wanted to disappear—like she needed to crawl under a rock.
I immediately spotted Mr. Parker coming out of the elevator. Seeing the paparazzi, he swung into action, pushing them back and blocking any more questions. I grabbed Sophie's hand and pulled her back into the room, slamming the door shut behind us.
"Who the fuck are you? And why did you come out?" My frustration boiled over.
My phone started ringing—again and again. I nearly smashed it on the floor but instead just turned it off.
"I asked you a question, goddamnit!" I bellowed, stepping closer to her, my fists clenched tightly.
Suddenly, she burst into tears. My brows furrowed in confusion as her sobs grew louder.
"Are you okay?" I found myself asking. Was I really that intimidating to make her cry? Well, I knew I was—but I didn't want to add a crying woman to the mess of this day.
She sniffled, trying to compose herself.
"I'm sorry… I caused you so much trouble."
Her voice cracked. "While you went to check the door, it all came crashing down on me—what happened last night…"
She broke down into fresh tears.
I shut my eyes. Could this day get any worse? Now I was supposed to comfort her or what?
"The thing is, my boyfriend broke up with me last night..."
A man problem. I rolled my eyes.
"So? How does that explain any of this?"
She hesitated. "I... was so heartbroken. We'd been together for six years. Even though he was cheating, I still loved him—and forgave him every time."
My patience was hanging by a thread. She kept sulking, blowing her nose into tissues.
What she didn't seem to realize was that the mess she'd dragged me into was way more complicated than some lousy breakup and a cheating boyfriend.
"You must think I'm stupid for crying over someone like that," she said.
I shrugged—well, that was true.
"But I was supposed to take him to my family this weekend. They've never met him and have been pestering me to bring him home. Now this happened, and I drowned myself in alcohol yesterday. I think that's how I ended up in your room—mistaking it for mine."
"I'm so sorry," she wailed.
"What am I supposed to tell my family?" she mumbled, wiping tears with the edge of her clothes.
She was almost as trapped in her own mess as I was. Questioning her further wouldn't solve a thing.
She looked up at me, eyes full of helplessness.
Running my hands through my hair over and over again. I sank down, trying to figure out a way to untangle this nightmare.
Once I switched my phone back on, the calls would flood in. My reputation was definitely on the line.
"I don't sympathize with you," I said bluntly. "You used your problem to drag me into a tight spot, and it's only fair you help fix it."
Anna nodded. "I'm sorry."
"Quit apologizing," I snapped.
"Okay. How can
I help?" she asked quietly.
I knew it was rash—very rash. But given the situation, it was the most logical choice.
I looked her straight in the eyes.
"Be my wife."