Jenna's gaze involuntarily dropped to Ethan's throat. The pronounced curve of his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow, like an invisible hook tugging at her pulse.

She stole a glance at his rolled-up sleeves. Veins traced faint blue paths beneath his pale skin, hinting at restrained strength.

"Done staring?"

His icy voice doused her like a bucket of cold water.

Her hands jerked, nearly dropping the bowl. "N-nothing." She ducked her head, fingers slipping on the porcelain rim.

"How did you meet Grandma Blanche?" Ethan's sudden question startled her.

Her fingers stilled. So Blanche hadn't told him?

"I owned a fruit stand." She moistened her dry lips. "She became a regular. Eventually I started delivering to her."

Ethan's brow furrowed. That explained the sudden influx of fruit baskets at home.

"Why the career change?" His tone remained flat, eyes fixed elsewhere.

"Wasn't profitable." A bitter smile touched her lips. "Milo's medical bills... the club pays better."

Two sharp taps of his fingers on the countertop. "That place doesn't suit you."

Her eyes brightened. "Are you worried about me, Mr. Roscente?"

"You carry my name now." His voice could frost glass. "Your disgrace reflects on me."

Her smile froze. Of course.

"I'll leave once I've saved enough for his surgery." She resumed scrubbing dishes, letting running water mask her thickened voice.

"Hmm."

Ten minutes later, the kitchen stood empty. Drying her hands, she realized Ethan had vanished.

"Jenna!" Milo sidled up with a conspiratorial grin. "You two were in there forever—"

"Nothing happened." She snatched the remote, jabbing buttons randomly. "He's embarrassed by my job."

Milo frowned. "It does look bad. If clients recognize you—"

"I know." She tossed the remote back. "I'm napping. You handle dinner."

"What should I buy?"

"Whatever." She trudged toward the bedroom without turning, exhaustion weighing each step.