Regret Came Too Late (Grace and Ethan) novel Chapter 349

Other than that one flimsy excuse, Simon couldn't think of any other reason. Ethan had been out of it all night, and it was as if he hadn't even heard half of what Simon said. He looked lost in his own world.

Simon, frustrated, slammed back a shot of whiskey. "Ethan?" he called.

Only then did Ethan lift his head, his voice distant. "What is it?"

"You good, man? You've been zoning out all night."

Ethan rubbed his forehead, his fingers pressing into his temples when his phone buzzed quietly on the table. He glanced at the screen, then said flatly, "I'm leaving."

Simon stared at him in disbelief. Seriously?

Tonight's meeting—this whole damn setup—was Ethan's idea. He had practically twisted Simon's arm to come meet Grace and throw a project her way. Simon had agreed. Now, before they even finished the first drink, the guy was bailing?

Simon clenched his teeth, feeling ridiculously stifled. "You—" He barely got the word out before Tim appeared to wheel Ethan out.

Simon slumped back in his seat, fuming. He pulled out his phone, his mood in the gutter.

Without thinking, he shot off a text to his usual hookup. "I'm asking you a question. What the hell are you so busy with?"

The last message he sent had gone unanswered. And now, this one didn't get a response either.

Simon thought as he glared at his screen, "There's no way she'd be this busy."

He waited ten minutes, but still, there was nothing. The silence gnawed at him. From the day he was born, he had never, ever been treated like an afterthought.

Feeling even more irritated, he grabbed his jacket and stormed outside, calling her.

"You know, Yasmine, this isn't cool. Every time you called, I came—no hesitation. And now that it's me reaching out, you're brushing me off with 'I'm busy'?"

Yasmine was in the middle of a meeting, seated at a long table surrounded by screenwriters. They were finalizing the next round of scripts when his voice crackled through her earbuds. Her brows furrowed immediately.

"Mr. Yule, I thought we had an agreement," she said evenly, keeping her tone professional.

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