"As good as your mother's?" Ethan asks before eating a whole pot sticker.

  "Almost," I answer before finishing the other half of mine. "But this is still damned good."

  "It is," Ethan agrees.

  We eat our other dumpling in silence, then reach for our glasses of wine. The acidity in the Sauvignon Blanc washes away the lingering flavor of chili in my mouth.

  On to the next course - crispy duck breast with a creamy vegetable puree. This one looks more like a Western dish but still has the comforting Asian flavors in the perfectly cooked duck. Yum.

  "Duck was my mother's favorite food," Ethan tells me.

  My eyebrows go up. "Really?"

  He nods.

  I pause in the middle of cutting another piece of duck. Wait a second. He said "was," right?

  "My mother's gone, too," Ethan says. "She died when I was twelve."

  Twelve? And here I thought I lost my mother too early.

  I put my utensils down. "I'm sorry to hear that."

  I somehow knew Mrs. Hawthorne was no longer around, but I never thought she left Ethan when he was still so young.

  "How old were you when your mother passed away?" he asks.

  "It happened just three years ago," I answer as I pick up my knife. "And my father died two years before that."

  "So it's just you now?"

  I nod.

  "No siblings?"

  I shake my head.

  "No roommate?"

  I shake my head again. "I've heard too many roommate horror stories."

  "What about a cat or a dog?"

  "I used to have a dog," I say. "But I don't have time to take care of one now. I'd just feel sorry for it. I was thinking of getting a cat one time, but I guess I didn't have the time for it, either."

  "I see. What about - ?"

  "A plant?" I finish the sentence for him. "I have some succulents in my bathroom and a spider plant on my balcony."

  "I was going to say boyfriend," Ethan says.

  "Oh." I let my fork linger between my lips. "Nope. I don't have one."

  I did consider lying for a moment there, but what's the point?

  "Ever had one?" Ethan asks.

  I look at him. Why is he so curious about my personal life all of a sudden?

  "No, don't answer that," he says. "Just answer me this. Is it my fault you don't have a boyfriend right now?"

  I nearly choke on the piece of duck inside my mouth. Quickly, I reach for my glass of wine and take a gulp. The food goes down my throat but I can still feel a lump in it. I can feel the fire in my cheeks. Does Ethan know, after all, that I have a huge crush on him?

  "I mean, am I giving you too much work?"

  I blink. Oh, that's what he meant. I blush even harder out of embarrassment.

  Oh, Stella, what were you thinking?

  "Am I?" Ethan asks again.

  I shake my head firmly. "No. It's not your fault. My job is what it is. And I chose it. And I love it."

  He gives me a puzzled look. "You do?"

  I nod. "I mean, sure, it's a lot to handle sometimes, but the pay is good, especially with the raise you just gave me, which I'm grateful for, by the way."

  "You're welcome."

  "And there are perks like this right now, this flight on this amazing plane and this... beautiful meal." I gesture towards my empty plate.

  "And the meal's not over yet," Ethan tells me. "There's still dessert."

  I smile. "My favorite."

  "What are you hoping it is?" he asks.

  "Anything sweet," I answer. "I need that sugar to give me heaps of energy so I can finish a lot more work before we get to Switzerland."

  Chapter Four

  Ethan

  I guess those heaps of energy ran out.

  I turn off the light above Stella's seat and press the button to push it back a bit further so she'll be more comfortable. She stirs but remains asleep. I drape the fleece blanket over her, wrapping it around her shoulders. She gives off a sound of contentment like the purring of a cat. It makes me smile, but at the same time I feel a sliver of anxiety as I stare at her sleeping face.

  Stella, what am I going to do with you?

  I've never met a woman who could make me feel so many emotions all at once. Earlier, while she was working, I couldn't help but admire her for working so hard. Her fingers were punching the keyboard like crazy, her eyes boring holes into her screen. It made me feel almost ashamed because it felt like she was working harder than I was. But it also inspired me to keep working hard myself. At the same time, I wanted to wrench her laptop away from her and tell her to stop working so we could continue with the conversation we had over dinner.

  That was something. It was relaxing - Stella was tense at the beginning but she quickly let her guard down when the food arrived. It was fun - I loved the different expressions she made as she was blown away by the food. It was the first real conversation we ever had, a step up from the after-work chats we normally have that are mostly recaps of the day or comments on the weather, the news or how we both need to get some rest. It was a revelation.

  I've already learned a few things about Stella from reading her journal, but learning them straight from her has a stronger impact. It's like the difference between reading the manual on how to use a machine and having someone demonstrate it for you. I got to see the real Stella. In the flesh. And she was a hundred times more fascinating, more stirring.

  If I wanted to hug her after reading her journal, the urge was a hundred times stronger during dinner. When I saw her amber eyes glossed over with tears she was trying to fight back after seeing those pot stickers, I wanted to go to her side and pull her into my arms. I wanted to stroke her hair as I let her cry against my chest and then wipe the tear stains from her cheeks when she was done.

  Even now, I want to wrap my arms around her. I want to make sure nothing disrupts her sleep. I want to keep the nightmares at bay. I want her to know she's not alone, to feel she's not alone.

  She said she no longer has anyone. I want to be there for her. It may not be right for us to be lovers, I might not be allowed to be her boyfriend, but I can be her friend. I can be her boss and still be her friend. I can look after her, keep her from working too hard, support her when she feels she's starting to unravel, listen to her ideas and dreams so that she won't feel the need to write them down, treat her to good food, travel with her.

  I want to take care of her because she deserves that. Everyone does, but Stella most of all because she puts everything and everyone ahead of herself. I want to make sure she never has to suffer in silence.

  I take a strand of her hair that has escaped from her bun and tuck it gently behind her ear. My fingertips brush against her cheeks and the corners of her mouth turn up to form a smile.

  My heart stops. This smile is exactly what I'm determined to protect. This rare look of peace and contentment is what I want to preserve at all costs.

  I, too, smile.

  Sleep well, Stella. Everything will be alright. I've got you now.

  ~

  The plane lands in Zurich at around eight in the morning. Stella wakes up shortly before then, looking refreshed but surprised when she sees that the sun is already out. I have to remind her of the difference in time zones. Even if it seems like she slept for ten hours, she only actually slept for four. As for me, I was barely able to catch an hour's worth of sleep, so once we get to the hotel, I go straight to bed. My first meeting is in the afternoon, so I have time to catch some winks.

  After I wake up, I shave, take a shower and then work a bit before changing. I've just put on my pants when I hear a knock on the door.

  My eyebrows furrow. Room service? I didn't hear them say so.

  "Who is it?" I ask.

  "Stella, sir," the reply comes from the other side of the door.

  Of course it is. She's probably ready to go.

  "Give me a sec," I say as I put on my belt.

  Then I open the door. Stella is ready to go. She's already in her navy blue two-piece outfit and black heels. Her hair is tied in a neat braid, her lips painted the same shade of pink as a flamingo's feathers. The light, flowery scent of her perfume wafts into my nostrils.

  "I thought jet lag would have at least some effect on you," I tell her. "I guess I was wrong."

  She doesn't look at all like she just flew in from another continent hours ago.

  She blushes. "Thank you."

  I step back. "Please come in."

  Stella hesitates a moment, maybe because this time she's stepping into my bedroom and not just my office. In fact, she looks more wary than usual, maybe because she's afraid she already crossed a line last night. But she straightens her shoulders and steps over the threshold.

  Good girl.

  I close the door. "Have you eaten anything?"

  "I got hungry so I ordered something from room service before I had a shower," Stella answers.

  "I actually thought you were room service," I tell her. "I was going to say I'm not hungry. I usually don't have an appetite for hours after I land. I'll just grab a bite to eat later after the meeting."

  "About that..." Stella draws a breath. "I'm afraid the meeting has been canceled."

  I narrow my eyes at her. "Canceled?"

  She nods. "Mr. Odermatt sends his apologies and regrets but some urgent personal matter came up on his schedule and he'll be seeing you tomorrow instead when you visit the company headquarters."

  Personal matter, or is he having second thoughts about selling his company? He'd better not be. At any rate, I'll find out exactly what his thoughts are tomorrow. Until then, there's no use speculating or worrying about them.

  "Then it seems we have the rest of the day free," I say to Stella as I sit down on the divan. "You can go back to your room and rest."

  As for me, I might just get back to work. I don't think I'll be able to go back to sleep anyway.

  Stella touches her chin. "Actually, I was thinking of leaving the hotel and doing some sightseeing since I've already finished my work. I made a list of the places I wanted to visit in case I had some time. But of course, if you'd rather have me stay here in case you have something for me to do..."

  "Go," I tell her. "It's your first time in Zurich, right?"

  Besides, how I can tell her to stay when she clearly wants to go out there? The excitement is written all over her face.

  Stella nods. "It's my first time in a European city, actually."

  "Then go. Explore. Take in the sights, the smells, the sounds, the tastes. You're free to do whatever you like. And Zurich is a very safe city, so you don't have to worry about getting mugged in an alley or anything like that."

  "Yup." She gives me a wide smile. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine on my own."

  Her words make me pause. Fine on her own? Didn't I say I wouldn't leave her on her own? That I wouldn't make her feel alone?

  "I'll be off, then. If you need anything, you can just..."

  I stand up. "I'm coming with you."

  Stella's eyes grow wide.

  "I just need to answer to a few emails, but then - "

  "No!" Stella protests emphatically, taking me by surprise.

  She seems surprised by it, too, because she falls silent afterward. Then she clears her throat.

  "I mean, you don't have to... sir. I'll be fine."

  "Maybe." In fact, I'm sure she will be. "But my German is better than yours. No offense."

  "I'll make do," she insists. "I'm sure you're tired."

  I shrug. "I could use some fresh air."

  "And you have a lot of work to do."

  "Not that much. I actually got a lot done on the plane."

  I don't really understand why she's arguing with me. Can it be that she doesn't want my company? Is it because I was asking her a lot of personal questions last night? Did I make her uncomfortable?

  "If I said or did anything last night to offend you..."

  "No," Stella cuts me off. "Last night was... good. You didn't do anything wrong."

  "But you'd rather not have me around?"

  Her eyebrows arch. "That's not what I meant. I just..." She looks away. "I don't want to cause you any trouble."

  "It's no trouble," I assure her. "In fact, I don't think it's a bad idea for us both to try and unwind before the big day tomorrow."

  Stella lets out a breath. "Okay."

  But she doesn't sound convinced. I guess I'll just have to convince her as we go along.

  "Just give me fifteen minutes," I tell her. "You need to change, too, don't you? Unless you want to walk around in heels."

  "I don't."

  "Then come back here when you're ready. And bring your list. We'll try to cover as much ground as we can."

  ~

  The first thing we do is take a cruise across the sparkling lake, which is right next to the hotel. Afterwards, we head to the Old Town. We explore it on foot, starting from the Bahnhof on Main Street. Then we take a stroll past the colorful houses on Augustinergasse, drop by the Lindenhof and stop by the Uraniastrasse Police Station to see the vibrant murals by Augusto Giacometti.

  Through it all, I notice that Stella still seems wary of my company. She keeps her distance from me and doesn't speak unless spoken to. Every now and then, she slips and drops her guard, especially when something interesting catches her attention and she forgets that I'm there, but when she remembers, she's quick to put it up again.

  I still don't understand why, but I don't mind. I'm still glad I decided to accompany her. It's evident she's excited to explore Zurich, even though she's trying her best to hide it, and the more she sees, the more she seems to fall in love with the city. As she takes in the sights, I take her in - her every gasp, every sigh, every furrow and arch of her eyebrows, every smile, every chuckle. I feel like a father who brought his kid to the toy store for the first time and Stella is that kid, crazy and carefree. It's another side of her I haven't seen before.

  After walking through the rest of Uraniastrasse, we find ourselves at the Old Botanical Garden. It's not on Stella's list, but she decides it's worth a look around.

  I follow her in, even though I'm not too keen about gardens. I do like the one back at the mansion, but I don't see why tourists would want to visit them. Maybe it's because I'm not very knowledgeable about plants - biology was one of my least favorite subjects in high school. I've seen a few gardens, I've seen them all. At least the sun has gone hiding behind the clouds so it's not too hot for a stroll.

  Stella, on the other hand, seems enraptured. She takes pictures continually, and every few steps she stops to take a closer look at a plant.

  "Something tells me someone is buying more plants when she gets home," I remark.

  "Not really," she answers. "I'm fine with my succulents and my spider plant. Any more and they would just wilt. But I'd like to have a garden for my kid to..."

  She stops abruptly as if realizing she said something she shouldn't have.

  "Go on," I urge her.

  Stella draws a breath. "It would be nice to have a house with a garden. My mother had a small garden. I liked to sit on the bench and write."

  I look at her curiously. "Write what? Stories?"

  She nods. "Believe it or not, I used to want to be a writer."

  I shrug. "I don't think there's anything wrong with that. I think you'd make a good writer."

  Stella narrows her eyes at me. "And how would you know that? You've never read anything I've written, have you?"

  Right. She doesn't know I read her journal. She's not supposed to know.

  "But I have," I tell her.

  She gives me a confused look.

  "You've written countless letters and reports for me in the past two years," I add.

  She lets out a breath of relief, then snorts. "Those don't count. Those don't have a drop of creativity at all."

  "But I can still tell you're good with words."

  Her lips curve into a slight smile. "Thank you."

  Then she falls silent again, as if trying to make up for the conversation she just allowed herself to have with me. We continue down the garden paths, stopping intermittently for pictures. When we reach the fountain, Stella tries to get a picture of herself with it but struggles.

  "Let me," I offer.

  I've been wanting to take her pictures, actually. I've been waiting for her to ask but she hasn't.

  She shakes her head. "No. That's... It's enough that you're accompanying me. I don't want to make you into my photographer."

  Is that all?

  "First of all, taking one picture doesn't make a person a photographer," I tell her. "Second, I'm not accompanying you. I'm taking a tour of the city with you, which I'm glad of, because even though I've been to Zurich a few times before, I've never really had a chance to see the city."

  Her eyes grow wide. "You're kidding."

  "No, I'm not. So you see, you're the one who actually did me a favor."

  Stella doesn't answer. I offer her my hand.

  "Now hand me that camera."

  She hesitates but places the camera on my palm.

  "Do you know how to use it?" she asks.

  Instead of being insulted by her lack of confidence in me, I chuckle. "I think I can manage."

  I step back and look through the lens. I find myself zooming in on her face. Some strands of her hair have come loose from her braid now, but she still looks beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that my finger presses the shutter to snap a quick picture.

  "That it?" Stella asks.

  "One more," I answer.

  I zoom out so I can see her whole outfit - a cream-colored turtleneck and a loose-fitting pair of olive green pants. Shiny copper canvas shoes conceal her feet. It reminds me of what she was wearing when I saw her that late Friday night, except this is a chicer version.

  I approve.

  I zoom in so I only get the upper half of her body and the fountain.

  "Ready?"

  "Yes," she answers.

  "Is that the best pose you've got?" I tease her.

  She's just standing in front of the fountain, clutching her cap and her sunglasses.

  She rolls her eyes. "Just take the picture."

  I do. Afterwards, I take a look at it. It looks good.

  "Well?" Stella asks.

  "Let's take one more to be sure," I say.