Page 5 of Bought by His Brother’s Best Friend (The Bennett Brothers #1)

THREE

SHANE

I’d never been the type to make impulsive decisions.

For most of my life, I was the practical one—the steady counterpoint to Tyler’s spontaneity. While he was a total professional on the ice, he also had a tendency to jump from one adventure to the next. I was the guy with the plan, the schedule, the carefully considered pros and cons.

Yet here I was at 11:55 p.m., standing on my curb with an overnight bag, waiting for a car to take me to a private jet that would fly me to Paris with a man I’d always found fascinating but barely knew.

The sleek black SUV pulled up exactly on time. The driver, a professionally polite woman in a dark suit, took my bag and opened the door for me.

“Good evening, Mr. Bennett. Mr. Roth is already at the airfield.”

My stomach fluttered with a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

After I’d returned to my apartment, I’d nearly texted Damien three separate times to back out. Each time, I’d stopped myself. There was something undeniably thrilling about saying yes to this crazy invitation—about stepping completely out of my carefully constructed routine.

The drive to the private airfield took less than thirty minutes.

As we approached, I spotted it immediately—a gleaming white jet with “Roth Technologies” emblazoned on the side in sleek silver lettering. It was smaller than a commercial airliner, but still substantial, with elegant lines that somehow looked both powerful and graceful.

Just like its owner.

The driver pulled onto the tarmac, stopping a short distance from the aircraft’s stairs.

As I stepped out, Damien emerged from the jet, silhouetted against the light from inside the plane.

He wore dark jeans and a light blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

The look was far more relaxed than he had been in his formal wear, but no less commanding.

He descended the stairs with that simple confidence I’d always noticed about him, a smile spreading across his face as he approached.

“You came,” he said, as if he’d half-expected me to change my mind.

“I did.” I matched his smile, trying to ignore the nervous energy coursing through me. “Though I’m still not convinced this isn’t some elaborate dream.”

“If it is, let’s make it a good one.” He nodded to the driver, who was already handing my bag to a crew member. “Ready to board?”

The interior of the jet was unlike anything I’d ever experienced.

Plush leather seats that looked more like armchairs than airplane seating.

Rich wood paneling. A small dining area with a table elegantly set.

The carpet was thick beneath my feet, and the lighting warm and inviting rather than the harsh fluorescents of commercial flights.

“This is...” I trailed off, taking it all in.

“Excessive?” Damien offered with a wry smile.

“I was going to say incredible, but yeah, that too.” I ran my hand over the polished wood of the nearest table. “I’m almost afraid to touch anything.”

“Please don’t be. Make yourself comfortable.” He gestured toward one of the seats. “We’ll be taking off shortly.”

As if on cue, a flight attendant appeared—a professional-looking man in his forties who introduced himself as Michael. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Bennett. May I offer you a drink before takeoff? A selection of cheese and charcuterie will be served once we reach cruising altitude.”

“Can I get a coffee, please? Thanks.”

Damien requested the same and Michael went back to the front of the plane.

I settled into one of the leather seats, which was possibly the most comfortable chair I’d ever experienced. Damien took the seat across from me, watching me with barely concealed amusement as I tried not to look too overwhelmed.

“First time on a private jet?” he asked.

“That obvious, huh?”

“You have that wide-eyed look people get.” His tone was teasing but kind. “It’s charming.”

Heat crept up my neck at the compliment. Michael returned with our coffees and informed us we’d be taking off in about five minutes. Soon after, the engines hummed to life, and we taxied down the runway.

The takeoff was smoother than any commercial flight I’d experienced. Once we were airborne and the seatbelt sign was turned off, Michael appeared again with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.

“A little late for champagne, isn’t it?” I asked as he expertly popped the cork without spilling a drop.

“Not at all,” Damien replied. “This is a celebration.”

“Of what?”

“Spontaneity. Breaking routine.” His eyes held mine as Michael handed us each a flute of golden, bubbling liquid. “To unexpected opportunities.”

I raised my glass to his. “To Paris.”

The champagne was exquisite—crisp and slightly sweet, nothing like the cheap stuff served at most events. After Michael left us, Damien shifted to face me more directly.

“So, tell me something about Shane Bennett that I don’t already know.”

I took another sip of champagne, considering. “That’s tricky, since I’m not sure what you do know. We’ve never really talked much.”

“True. Most of what I know comes from Tyler.” He leaned back in his seat. “He says you’re the smartest person he knows. That you could have done anything, but you chose to be his agent because you believed in him when no one else did.”

I felt a rush of affection for my brother. “Tyler exaggerates. I became his agent because I understood the business side of sports, and he didn’t. It was a practical decision.”

“Was it?” Damien tilted his head slightly. “Weren’t you on track for law school when Tyler got his first pro offer.”

I blinked in surprise. “You remember that?”

A small smile played at his lips. “I pay attention to people that interest me.”

Something warm unfurled in my chest. “Well, yes. I had been accepted to three law schools. But Tyler needed someone in his corner who wouldn’t take advantage of him. The agent he was considering was... not ideal.”

“So you put your plans on hold to help your brother?”

I shrugged. “It worked out. I found I had a knack for negotiation and player management. Now I have six other clients besides Tyler.”

“All of whom are thriving, from what I hear.” Damien swirled the champagne in his glass. “Your turn. What do you want to know about me?”

I considered him for a moment. This man who had spent twenty thousand dollars to take me to Paris on his private jet. “Why did you bid on me last night?”

His eyes met mine, unflinching. “Because no one else was going to, and you didn’t deserve that humiliation.”

It was the answer I’d expected, and it stung a little despite its honesty. “So it was pity.”

“No.” He set his glass down, his expression suddenly serious. “It was anger, initially. I was angry that no one in that room recognized your worth. But then it became... something else.”

“What?” I asked.

“An opportunity I’ve been waiting for.” His gaze was steady. “Shane, I was reminded by someone last night that life is too short, so I’m going to be honest—I’ve been interested in you for years.”

I nearly choked on my champagne. “Years?”

“Since that hockey viewing party at your parents’ house during my sophomore year.

You were still in high school, but you were so sharp, so passionate when you talked about the game.

You saw things others missed.” He smiled at the memory.

“Later, whenever we’d run into each other at Tyler’s events, I always wanted to talk to you more, but the timing never seemed right. ”

I stared at him, processing this revelation. “But you’re... you. And I’m just?—”

“Don’t,” he cut me off gently. “Don’t diminish yourself. That’s exactly what frustrated me last night. You have no idea how remarkable you are.”

The champagne buzzed pleasantly through my system, making me bolder than I might otherwise have been. “I’ve always found you intriguing too,” I admitted. “But you’re Tyler’s best friend, and so successful and intimidating. I figured you were just being polite when you talked to me.”

Damien laughed softly. “I’m rarely just polite. If I engage with someone, it’s because I want to.”

Snacks arrived then—an array of meats, cheeses, dried fruits, and bread—temporarily pausing our conversation.

As we ate, we shared stories from the years we’d orbited each other’s lives.

I told him about the disastrous first contract I’d negotiated, where I’d been so nervous I’d accidentally spilled coffee on the team owner.

He shared how his first tech startup had nearly failed before a last-minute investment saved it.

By the time Michael cleared our plates, the champagne was gone and something had shifted between us. The initial awkwardness had dissolved, replaced by a warm familiarity that felt both new and somehow long-established.

“Would you like anything else?” Michael asked.

“We’re fine for now, thank you,” Damien replied. “We’ll call if we need anything.”

Michael nodded and disappeared toward the front of the plane, leaving us alone in the cabin.

“He seems very professional,” I observed.

“He is. Also, extremely discreet.” Something in Damien’s tone made me look up sharply. There was a heat in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “He won’t disturb us unless called.”

My pulse quickened. “Good to know.”

Damien set his napkin aside and stood, extending his hand to me.

I took his hand, letting him lead me to a plush love seat toward the back of the cabin. Outside, there was nothing but blue sky and clouds beneath us, the world distant and dreamlike.

We sat close enough that our knees touched. Damien’s hand was still holding mine, his thumb tracing small circles on my palm.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time,” he whispered, and then he was leaning in, his free hand coming up to cup my jaw.