Chapter- 13

In certain instances, Ryan's superior can display a great deal of true unpredictability, causing Ryan to question, stammering, "Wh- what's the matter?"

"Please excuse me," the older individual retrieves his device, indicating, "I must take care of something immediately first."

Ryan takes a few steps backwards, distancing from the chairs, "Calm down," Ethan appears to be guarding a secret, not wanting anyone else to discover it, whatever it may be, but concealing it nonetheless.

Further, Ryan adds, "I've learned how to operate desktops and laptops while in school, so rest assured that I won't accidentally delete any of your important files. In any case, I believe that you have backups."

"That's not the real issue…" Ethan hastily clicks away at the keyboard, keeping whatever he is working on out of sight from the another pair of eyes towering.

"I also don't have the habit of snooping around," Ryan's face breaks into an embarrassed pulp, "Just thought I would mention it."

"Can you please stop talking?" Ethan snaps with a straight face, "I bet you very well know that I'm not a huge fan of unnecessary words."

"Sorry…"

Ryan doesn't like to admit it, but his boss indeed appears remarkable when fully engrossed in his work, a determination that can be tore apart with nothing, an effortless display of intense concentration— yes, Ryan wonders too, what could demand so much patience from the normally high-strung CEO; it has to be something really pertinent.

The always hauntingly haughty, arrogant, vain CEO appears somewhat…vulnerable? Yes, that is the correct word to describe him— 'vulnerable', whenever Ethan is determined…

Ryan watches intently, Ethan's eyes are excusing a shimmer that Ethan himself is not aware of…but, still, the weariness isn't forgotten, it hangs, in the depths. "You need to take a break."

"Huh?" Ethan finally presses a key and cares to elevate his look, "What do you mean?"

"You need a break, sir!" The brunette youth domineers, "I won't take no for an answer either. Last time, well, just yesterday– you offered me a break. Today, I offer you one."

"I don't understand, Mr. Miller," Ethan cavils, then closing his laptop.

Ryan excitedly proclaims, "I will make you rose tea, and you won't be able to refuse," thumping his claws on their mahogany desk tabletop. "Just try it once, and you will crave it everyday, I promise."

The CEO's eyes scan by the young man twice, before Ethan can pronounce a set of words. "Mr. Miller, can you not see my coffee machine hanging on the wall, right to your left, across from me. I also have a pack of cigarettes. If I truly think I need a break, I will resort to one of the two options."

"Sir," Ryan swaps demeanour with the authority, "I don't intend to be intrusive or make you quit smoking," the bloke brushes aside a lock of brunette falling over his eye, "But we both know that both of your options are hazardous and…temporary."

Ethan rhetorically questions with a snark, "Are you implying that yours is permanent?"

"No. But, opposite to harmful nicotine or caffeine, my remedy is herbal, genuine and long lasting," Ryan backs his claims up, "Perhaps, sometimes, until the next day."

With doubt and hesitation filling in his mind, Ethan takes a deep breath. Is it truly a good idea? Should he really go through with this? The weight of a simple decision bears down on him— why should he? Ethan Smith is the one in charge here, why would he follow his assistant's suggestions of all people? Should it not always be Ethan himself who everyone needs to be following? He leads, he doesn't follow, he is listened to, he doesn't listen… Ethan, thus, reaches a resolute conclusion. "I refuse," he declares with flattering determination.

Witnessing Ethan's steadfast reaction, the brunette refuses to retreat. Standing tall, his gaze fixed menacingly on the CEO, his silence carries immense intensity. Words become literally unnecessary when eyes can speak volumes, and can speak louder.

"Stop," Ethan gives an order. The heat creeps up his neck, trailing the roots of his jet-black hair, creating an increasing discomfort. "Stop staring at me. I'm not taking a break right now. I'm sorry."

"Hmm," thoughtfully humming, Ryan crosses his arms, maintaining his piercing observation. It is as if his eyes could penetrate Ethan's proud facade— maybe because the pair actually holds the potential. Ryan waits patiently, refusing to give in this time, until Ethan does so. The weight of Ryan's resolved stare feels suffocating, akin to unrelenting glare of a hawk fixated on its prey.

"You don't lose, do you?" Ethan blurts out, feeling his anger and frustration sizzling.

"Look who's talking!" Ryan can't believe his ears, "Maybe, I learned from the finest?"

"Are you mocking me right now?" Ethan points to himself— and what if Ryan is?

"Holy hell! I didn't take any name, by the way."

There is no way to get Ryan to weaken his determination.

Unable to bear the pressure, or an anticipated humiliation, the proud CEO finally concedes defeat. Ethan closes his eyes, attempting to block out the whirlpool of thoughts and emotions wearing within him. A resigned sight proceeds to squeeze a mutter, "Very well…" he quickens, upping from his vinyl chair, gaining in on the glass doors that lead to an exit in the grand corridors. "I shall lead."

Triumphant, Ryan but overbrimming with joy, pumps his fist in the air. He wishes to demonstrate to his boss that he has emerged victorious. "Done it!" He celebrates, previous from following his boss's footsteps, a smug ear-to-ear smile plastered unmistakably over his face.

-

Contrary to Ryan's assumption that their journey to the kitchen would be again another long, arduous one, it is revealed to be a mere few rooms away. Although it lies further from the stifling cubicles. Ryan wonders why Ethan does not make use of his lavish mansion for his walks, that is if the CEO goes on walks to begin with, though Ryan believes he does. "We have arrived," Ethan announces, damaging Ryan's chain of useless thoughts. "You can help yourself."

"Thank you!" Suddenly becoming eager and animated in demeanour, Ryan exclaims. He walks into the vast expanse of the kitchen, precisely as he had foreseen— a luxurious state-of-the-art culinary masterwork.

The brunette enthusiastically expresses his admiration for the breathtaking surroundings, "How magnificent and stunning!"

The kitchen exudes an air of opulence, with its extravagant design and impeccable craftsmanship— the only room that Ryan finds concurring with his own taste, even though he is not a fan of extravagance.

Bathed in soft, warm lighting, the space boasts custom made cabinetry, expertly crafted from rare woods. The smooth, polished surfaces of Macassar Ebony and BirdsEye Maple glimmer under an ethereal glow of crystal chandeliers, casting a spell of elegance throughout the room. The countertops are a sight to behold, with the finest materials that money could buy. "Woah…you have a weird taste, Mr. Haughty. Why is the kitchen the room which is filled with life the most? An artistic paradise, it feels so to me."

Granite, displaying unique patterns and hues, beckons with an air of mystique. Every detail, from the ornate carvings on the cabinetry, to the gold or silver leaf accents or from the finest of cutlery to the versatility of flowers sitting atop the counter, few as exhibitions, the remaining as ingredients, was a testament to the unmatched attention to detail, "I didn't know you had such a keen eye for art."

The pièce de résistance of this kitchen, a wine cellar fit for a connoisseur, invited guests to immerse themselves in the pleasure of fine vintages. "This is beyond my expectations. Really," Ryan just cannot have enough of it, this place looks like what he had always dreamed of, an artistic reality— temperature-controlled and impeccably designed, the kitchen holding a treasure trove of cuisines, waiting to be uncorked and enjoyed in the most splendid of settings.

"Have you finished admiring my kitchen?" Ethan ridicules, "Well then, I have a condition for you. Before you can start bombarding me with inquiries about ingredients, availability and all that jazz."

Appeared to have mastered the art of the game, Ryan, the talker's faithful assistant, answers with a clever twist. "I haven't quite finished," a mysterious twinkle grazing his words, "But let's postpone it for now. Just ensure that I'll be having a valid excuse, when I come into the kitchen again next time."

Ethan's curiosity peaks, in a humorous manner— if demeaning other people's choices and interests are called "humour" these days, "Are kitchens your latest obsession now suddenly?" His voice tinted with mock intrigue, "Let me guess, you fantasize about cooking meals together, giving surprise back hugs, and all those nonsense. Right?"

"You talk like they're some bad things!?" Ryan's eyes gleam with defiance, "If you're not fond of such things, that's your prerogative. But don't dismiss them as nonsense for those who cherish them," the brunette counters, rolling his eyes dramatically, "Nonetheless, sorry to break this to you, but this time around, you're mistaken. It's more like…well…" he sighs deeply, a hint of sorrow, "Let's just say, in a place very much like this one… I have forged some unforgettable memories."

Caught off guard by Ryan's emotional retaliation, Ethan waves his hand dismissively, "Alright, alright," his voice oozing with impatience, he interrupts, "Regarding my condition–"

Yet Ryan, never one to be silenced, interjects, his voice tinged with frustration, "Are we always going to remain on conditional terms now?" His eyes searching his boss's face for an answer.

A lopsided amusement creeps across Ethan's countenance, "I also learnt from the best!" He reminds, his words saturated with dual significance.

"Sounds fair."

"If you're really preparing the Rose tea," Ethan insists, "Then two cups should be prepared."

"For what reason?"

"For you, of course. If you happen to make a terrible tasting drink, I don't want to be the only one suffering."

"That's an odd way of saying 'I also care about your well-being," Ryan shakes his head, pupils shrinking. He takes out the glass kettle from a pile of kitchen utensils, and fills it with pure mineral water. "However you present it, I do appreciate it. It is the thought that counts. You can leave now! I have already gathered the ingredients."

"No chance," Ethan chuckles with amusement, sure he would stay around and listen like a good boy, won't he? "I can't just stand by and watch my kitchen go up in flames."

Ryan sets the induction to work, and sets the kettle to boil water. "That's also an unusual way of saying 'I'm worried about you'. You can try to learn to be more direct," he smiles coyingly at Ethan.

"Think what you want," Ethan glances at the kettle, and then back at his assistant. "That doesn't mean I'm saying what you think I am saying."

Ryan is currently not in the mood for any playful back-and-forth, regardless of how lighthearted it may seem, 'lighthearted' only being one sided though, coming from solely the assistant's side. Ryan, therefore decides, that it would be wise and sensible to remain silent and focus on his work. To distract, Ryan chooses one rose from a bouquet from the third vase in a row, situated right behind the induction oven. "Sir, are these roses free from pesticides?" He steers off topic momentarily. "Are they free from dirt and insects?"

Ethan replies with a bark, "Why would you assume that I would keep an unsafe flower in my kitchen or else? Of course it is safe to eat."

"I was simply asking," Ryan plucks a couple of spoonfuls, or in other words a handful of petals and places them into a small ceramic bowl, subsequently washing and rinsing them thoroughly below the sink. "You see, in traditional Rose tea, the focus was not on the tea leaves themselves, but rather the Rose petals was the main ingredient. But for me, the petals alone was too strong, especially the essence, and I felt sick at stomach. So, I decided to combine them with tea leaves."

"Could you please hurry up, Mr. Miller?" Ethan expresses a clear lack of interest. "This is a break, not a vacation," Ethan continues to be dipping in his cellphone: thus far, his boss's presence has not been particularly lively, but neither was it as dreary as it now appears to be— Ryan cannot shake the feeling that something is troubling Ethan, but he doesn't want to address it, embarrassing the ravenette, unless his boss himself chooses to do so.

As an alternative, Ryan knows he can offer a calmness— he, without mouthing another word, removes the boiling water and adds the fresh two spoonfuls of rose petals, followed with more spoonful of dried tea leaves to the pot, allowing them to steep into the hot water, infusing with its heat…the fragrance swirls and fills the kitchen with an unavoidable aroma, the streams does not fail to hit Ethan's nose either; and as Ryan watches him with a keen eye, Ethan, oblivious of Ryan's scrutiny, allows himself to be carried away by the sweet, sooting, herbal smell…he accepts the calmness with wide open arms, a soft satisfaction tugging at the corners of his eyes, lips and his features.

"Do you feel any better?" Ryan calmly asks.

Ethan responds in a contented hum, "Hmm… better…"

"Nearly done," after the steeping process, Ryan takes out two matching cups from the cupboard, his hands leisurely reaching to grip onto the handle of the scorching hot teapot.

Ethan's calmness is but then interrupted, his eyes fluttering open in jitters. Overwhelmed by a surge of dread or concern, Ethan approaches the young assistant, wrapping his arms around Ryan's elbows in a sped-up action, "Be careful!" Although unnecessary, Ethan has always been conditioned to think, always envisioning the worst-case scenario…regardless of wherever or whenever…

Ryan's cheek is bleeding with a bloodrush. He steals a glance at his boss from the corner of his eye, angling his face slightly towards the man, his words barely audible. "Mr. Haughty…"