Chapter 4: Beneath the Surface

The following week was a haze as Sophie lost herself in the painting Ethan had commissioned. Her studio was a jumbled mess of brushes, paint-stained cloths, and coffee cups full to half. Every stroke of her brush was deliberate, weighted with the responsibility of creating something not only good enough to satisfy his standards but also clever enough to keep him engaged.

However, she was hesitant in the back of her mind. Was she doing the right thing? Would this piece of writing give her the traction she needed to uncover the secrets of her father's business? Or was she playing with fire by messing around with a man who could end her with the snap of a finger?

It was a Friday evening when Sophie received an unexpected call from Ethan.

"Miss Clarke," his deep voice greeted her, smooth and assured. "How's the work on my painting?"

Sophie rubbed her paint-smeared hands across her apron, phone clutched in the other. "It's going well," she attempted to keep her voice free of the knot of tension in her stomach. "I think you'll be happy."

"I don't doubt it," Ethan replied. "But I have an offer for you. Are you free tomorrow night?"

Sophie hesitated. "I suppose so. Why?"

"I'm hosting a private dinner party at my manor house," Ethan replied. "It's a small gathering—some business associates, a few close friends. I'd be delighted to have you as my guest."

Sophie blinked in surprise. "Your guest?"

"Yes," Ethan went on smoothly. "It's a chance for you to socialize, maybe even pick up future commissions. And I'd like to see more of your work process. Call it an artist's privilege."

Her initial instinct was to refuse, to not go any further into his world, but this was exactly the kind of chance she could not possibly allow to pass her by.

"Alright," Sophie finally said.

"Good," Ethan said. "My driver will be by at seven."

The next evening, Sophie stood in front of her closet, gazing at her reflected self with a beseeching expression. "I can't wear any of this," she grumbled.

Clara, lounging on the bed with a glass of wine in her hand, raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with the black dress? It's classic, elegant—very Audrey Hepburn."

Sophie held out the dress, examining it. "It's fine, but this isn't just any dinner party. It's Ethan Hayes' dinner party. I need to make an impression."

Clara smiled smugly. "An impression, huh? You mean on Ethan or his rich friends?"

"Ethan," Sophie said exasperatedly, throwing a pillow at her.

"Alright, alright," Clara laughed. "Wear the red dress. It's bold, elegant, and will make you a total knockout. I swear."

When Ethan's chauffeur arrived, Sophie had convinced herself out of giving it too much thought. She emerged from her building in the red dress, her hair loose in a messy bun, and her nerves all but concealed beneath a composed veneer.

The vehicle pulled up to Ethan's mansion—a big house situated in the hills, with tidy gardens and glinting softly in the lights of the night. Sophie couldn't help but gawk as the driver opened the door for her.

Ethan opened the door to her, wearing a charcoal suit that fitted him immaculately, looking every inch the powerful billionaire that he was. His gaze swept over her, hesitating for a moment before he smiled.

"You look stunning," he said, holding out his arm to her.

Sophie stood there for a moment, then slipped her arm through it, her heart racing as they entered.

The dining room was as beautiful, dominated by a walnut table stacked high with crystal glasses and sparkling silver. Dozens of friends congregated in the adjacent room's lounge, champagne glasses refilled by an unseen maid while they chatted agreeably.

Ethan introduced Sophie to the guests, his hand remaining on the top of her back. "This is Sophie Clarke, the talented artist I've been talking about.".

Eyes on her, and Sophie smiled politely as she welcomed strangers whose names she forgot instantly.

A man, an eagle-eyed executive named Philip, leaned to the side as he looked at her. "An artist, you say? And what do you specialize in doing?"

"Abstract and figurative, primarily," Sophie replied. "I try to convey the feelings beneath the surface."

"Interesting," Philip remarked dryly. "And what underlying emotions do you sense of this crowd?"

Ethan's lips twisted into a slight smile as the room fell suddenly silent, the whole room looked around at Sophie.

Sophie took a sip of her champagne for a moment's hesitation, and then she smiled. "Ambition. Curiosity. And maybe just the slightest hint of mischief."

The room erupted into a good-natured laugh, and Ethan's hold on her shoulder relaxed fractionally, almost as if in approval.

As the evening progressed, Sophie sat beside Ethan at the table. The conversation flowed easily, from art to business to world travel. Ethan's attention never wavered from her, and she couldn't help but notice how his presence seemed to fill the room.

"You play yourself well," Ethan whispered, leaning forward as dessert was presented.

"Is that a compliment?" Sophie asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a comment," Ethan said, his gaze unflinching. "Not everybody can keep up in this type of environment. But you seem to thrive."

"I've learned to adapt," Sophie said, her tone light.

Ethan gazed at her for a moment, his expression as unreadable as a blank sheet of paper. "Adaptation is a valuable skill. But it puts one question into my mind—what are you hiding, Sophie Clarke?"

Her breath was taken, and for a moment, she was bare. But she regained quickly, looking at him with a gentle smile.

"I could ask you the same question," she said.

Ethan's lips pushed into a gentle smile. "Touché."

Later in the evening, when the guests began leaving, Ethan walked Sophie to the car waiting outside. The air was crisp, the stars twinkling against the dark sky.

Thanks for coming out tonight," Ethan said, his voice softer than it had previously been. "I did mean what I said, though—you're impressive."

Sophie hesitated between gratitude and suspicion. "I'm happy to have the opportunity. But why'd you ask me out, then? 

Ethan's gaze held hers, a flicker of something almost vulnerable crossing his handsome face before it disappeared. "Perhaps I just wanted to meet the woman behind the art.".

Sophie was speechless, so she merely nodded as the driver opened the door to the car for her.

As the car pulled away, Sophie glanced back at the mansion, her head spinning. Ethan Hayes was proving to be more complicated than she had anticipated, and for the first time, she wondered if she was the one being manipulated.