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CHAPTER ONE

ASH

S pring was in full swing. Trees draped in vibrant green leaves swayed gently in the breeze, and the garden bloomed with colorful flowers as far as the eye could see. It was cool enough to warrant a sweater, but the high sun cast a golden glow from the cloudless sky. People chatted animatedly as we strolled toward the tennis courts, and Oliver kept giving me uncomfortable side glances.

“I told you I needed that fucking transaction done last night, Warren,” I barked into the phone. “If you cost me that deal, I swear I’ll get on a plane right now and fuck your wife. Get off your ass and do what you’re fucking told.” Pulling out a cigarette and dangling it between my lips, I patted my blazer in search for the lighter and caught Oliver’s wide-eyed stare. “What?”

His eyebrows were raised, eyes darting around as he shot apologetic looks at passersby. “You can’t smoke here, and can you keep your voice down?”

Warren sighed on the other end, his frustration barely contained. “Your father said?—”

“I don’t care what Teddy said. This is my call. Authorize the fucking buy-in,” I snapped, cutting him off. Finding the lighter, I flicked it on, the flame dancing in the cool air, and lit my cigarette, taking a long drag and savoring the burn.

“I’m serious about not smoking,” my brother mumbled.

I gave him an exasperated glance as we continued toward the courts.

“If your father—” Warren tried again.

“My father wants money. I’m making him money. End of discussion,” I spoke over him. “Now, I’m having lunch with Oli’s soon-to-be bride. When we talk again, I want the fucking numbers, not excuses. Give my love to Ida.” I hung up without waiting for his reply. Taking another drag, I glanced at Oliver over my sunglasses, the sun casting sharp shadows on his disapproving face.

He pressed his lips together. “Can you reel that in when Charlotte’s around?”

“Reel what in?”

“You threatened to sleep with his wife.”

I dismissed his worries with a wave of my hand. “Oh please, Warren knows I’m gay. I’d sooner fuck him, and that’s saying something.”

Oliver closed his eyes, pained by my bluntness, clasping his hands together and begging, “Please behave, Ash.”

I grinned at his discomfort. It was so easy to rile him up.

Oliver pushed the door open, and we stepped into the second court. I’d met Charlotte a handful of times over the past year, but we’d never had a real one-on-one conversation. That made me feel like a pretty lousy older brother—but better late than never. My schedule was packed, but I’d made the drive to Long Island. Now, I just needed to make sure this lunch didn’t drag.

I spotted her first. Lithe and elegant, her high ponytail spilled into a cascade of chestnut-brown waves that gleamed in the sunlight. “Beautiful as always,” I admitted, watching as Oliver’s smile softened, his eyes full of quiet affection.

“She’s wonderful.” Oliver had always been a bit of a hopeless romantic. It wasn’t surprising that he was getting married before me, even though he was almost four years younger.

Our father was thrilled by the match—the picture-perfect little Langleys to succeed him were just within reach. He was a big fan of marriage, our dad. A true advocate for the pillars of society.

Taking another drag, I turned my attention to her companion. He was waiting for her serve, the tight white shorts clinging to his muscular thighs accentuating his every move. My eyebrows rose appreciatively as I leaned on the fence. “Who’s that?” I asked, taking in the pert shape of his ass, a smile tugging at my lips.

“Don’t fucking go there,” Oliver snapped.

I turned, surprised. Always prim and proper, Oli seldom swore, especially not at the club.

He gave me a warning look, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a rare flash of irritation. “That’s Char’s little brother. Emphasis on little , Ash.”

“Oli!” Charlotte called out.

The little brother straightened and turned toward us. A veritable Adonis, he had messy waves of golden-blond hair that fell effortlessly over his brow—the kind of hair that begged to be touched, tousled, pulled. He shared his sister’s straight nose, but his fuller lips balanced his features perfectly. Athletic for sure, his body was adorned with tight muscles that moved gracefully under his skin.

I appraised him over my glasses, taking one last drag before flicking the butt away. “Now he’s drop-dead fucking gorgeous.”

Our gazes locked. His eyes were a striking pale blue, like shards of ice.

Oliver rushed to pick up the cigarette butt as I stood tall, watching them approach.

He was short—at least compared to me—but that worked in my favor. A strong little thing—my favorite kind. As they approached, I estimated I had a foot on him.

“Sebastian!” Charlotte held out her hand with a warm, practiced smile. “So glad you could make it.”

She was always the picture of perfect manners, effortlessly polite. And every time we crossed paths, she looked genuinely happy. If she ever felt dismissed by me, she never let it show.

I took her hand, clasping it in mine before brushing a kiss over her knuckles. “The lovely Charlotte. How many times have I asked you to call me Ash? We’re practically family,” I said, laying on the charm.

She grinned, but before she could respond, Oliver cut in. “Don’t fall for it,” he warned, pressing a kiss to her cheek before turning to pat her younger brother’s shoulder.

“Hey, E,” he said, and I waited.

He glanced toward me again, softly rubbing his knuckles on the underside of his nose in what looked like a nervous gesture.

“This is my brother, Ethan,” Charlotte said quickly.

I extended my hand to him. He placed a tennis ball in his pocket before grasping it, his grip firm.

“Sebastian Langley. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I told him, offering a more controlled version of my smile.

“Ethan Bennett.”

He had a great voice—low and husky, probably made more so by exertion. He must sound like a dream getting fucked.

My lips twisted into a smirk, and Oliver’s elbow found its way to my ribs.

“We’re going to our usual table. I’ll see you both up there in half an hour,” Oliver said.

Charlotte nodded. “See you in a bit!” she called cheerfully.

“Can’t wait,” I answered, looking at Ethan.

He rubbed his nose again, and they both walked back to the court. Turning to Oliver, I bit my lip.

“You stop that, Ash. Stop it right now,” he warned, though I could see he was trying not to smile.

I laughed as he began scolding me in earnest before catching me up on the inner workings of our new family. Apparently, Ethan wasn’t gay, and he’d just turned nineteen in December—neither of which made a difference to me. Nineteen was legal, and being straight was always up for debate. He was still too young to cross every item off the menu.

We sat at our usual table on the terrace of the restaurant, waiting for them to arrive. When he walked in, Ethan looked fresh out of the shower. His blond hair tousled, between wet and dry. He was effortlessly attractive.

Charlotte sat by Oliver, and Ethan followed. I slipped into the seat next to his, carrying my glass. Oliver gave me a warning look, and I tried not to smile. We had a pleasant conversation, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off Ethan. He was quiet, but something about him made me think he wasn’t always this reserved.

I ordered another glass of whiskey, raising it to my lips and leaning back in my chair. While Oliver and Charlotte talked, I took advantage of the distraction.

“How old are you?” I asked Ethan, making an attempt at small talk to get him to loosen up.

He turned to me, surprised, his baby-blue eyes captivating. “Nineteen.”

“Is that why you’re not drinking?”

“Yes,” he answered simply, but I noticed the slight upturn of his lips, hinting at a suppressed smile.

“Order something. They’re not going to deny you anything.”

He shrugged, glancing at my glass before asking, “What are you having?”

I offered it to him. “Hibiki. It’s Japanese.”

He took the glass and sipped, his expression unchanged except for a slight nod of approval as he handed it back. Either he had impeccable taste for someone his age, or he was very good at faking it.

I leaned in closer, lowering my voice slightly. “Do you want one?”

“He’s underage,” Charlotte interjected, her voice cutting through our exchange.

I cringed inwardly— so close .

“It’s a celebration. We’re celebrating,” I said, tilting my head in challenge.

Charlotte shook her head but couldn’t hide her smile.

“Our families are merging into one. How can you deny him a chance to toast to your love?”

“Do you always have to be so insufferably clever?” she teased.

“It’s practically a responsibility at this point. One I take very seriously.” I added a wink for good measure.

She laughed, and from the corner of my eye, I caught Ethan fighting back a smile, shaking his head.

“Fine, one drink,” Charlotte conceded.

I raised my hand, signaling for the server, and asked him to bring us the bottle. Once it had been delivered, I poured Ethan a drink, pushing it toward him. He held it up, and I smiled as we clinked them together.

I raised my glass at Charlotte and Oliver. “To true love.”

Ethan took a sip, his lip pressing on the glass’s edge before carefully placing it on the table. He had nice hands—nimble and delicate.

“Are you in college?” I asked him.

“E started at Columbia last fall,” Charlotte interjected smoothly.

“Impressive. What are you majoring in?”

Ethan rubbed under his nose before giving a half-shrug. “Haven’t decided.”

“Still plenty of time.” I tapped my finger against the rim of my glass, turning that bit of information over in my mind. I technically lived in D.C., but with how much I traveled, it was more of a formality. I supposed I could drop by more often—especially now that my extended family was proving to be unexpectedly attractive.

“New York,” I said, glancing at Oliver with a shrug. “We have offices in the city.”

“I know. I’ve been,” Ethan replied. “Also the apartment by fifth.”

I frowned, my gaze shifting back to Oliver, who gave me a guilty look.

“Have you been hanging out with Henry?” I asked, mildly offended.

“In my defense, Henny lives in Manhattan and he’s easier to reach. You’re the problematic one.”

I scoffed, downplaying the guilt brought on by that statement. “I’m fucking charming, Oli. I resent this. I had a right to bond with my new family.”

Ethan chuckled again as Oliver shook his head and sipped his drink.

“You better not like Henry over me,” I warned Charlotte.

“He hasn’t tried to get my brother drunk.”

“Well, that’s a surprise, and…” I spotted the third Langley brother rushing over to us, “Speak of the devil.”

“Sorry, sorry. Ran late,” he said, breathing heavily. He went around the table, giving hugs, and flopped down next to me.

“Where’s Sophia?” I asked, and he froze mid-pour. “No more Sophia?”

He shook his head. “No more Sophia.”

“That’s too bad,” I said. “I liked her. I admired her dedication to low necklines—even if she was always one deep breath away from a wardrobe malfunction.”

“She did have a great rack,” Henry admitted.

“Ample,” I added. From the corner of my eye, I could see Ethan struggling not to smile.

“Why would that matter to you in the first place?” Oliver asked.

Glancing at Henry and catching his wide grin, I said, “They looked fun. Were they?”

“Very fun,” he confirmed.

I clinked his glass. “So why’d you break up with Sophia Fun-Tits?”

Oliver buried his face in his hands while Charlotte patted his back. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh at his expense.

“She stopped being fun. Now, Marisa—she’s a hoot,” he said, waggling his brows. Henry took a drink and grimaced. “It’s too early for whiskey. I’m having a gin. Does anyone want one?” he asked the table, raising his hand.

“Maybe Ethan wants one. Do you want to try gin?” I asked him.

“He’s good with one drink,” Oliver interrupted.

“I’m sorry, did you change your name? I don’t recall asking you what you wanted to drink.”

“Can I have a gin? Light on the tonic. Thanks, Max,” Henry said to the server. He shrugged off his jacket and looked at Ethan. “Are you drinking? I thought you were like sixteen.”

I pulled a cigarette out of my pocket. “He’s nineteen.”

“No, don’t smoke here,” Oliver said, raising his hand toward me.

“What? I thought you wanted the full Langley experience. You wouldn’t want poor Charlotte realizing she married into a family of foul-mouthed alcoholics after the fact, would you?” I teased.

Turning to her, I added, “She should go into it with all the information. Isn’t that right, Charlie?”

She offered me a polite but knowing look. “I think I’m well aware of that by this point.” There was a feisty spark beneath her composure—I rather liked that.

The server came back with Henry’s drink.

“Can you imagine Oli being the only point of reference?” Henry said, setting his glass down. He barely paused before saying, “Actually, just bring me another one right away.”

That pulled a loud laugh from me. “Sorry, Oli.”

“Go smoke somewhere else,” Oliver demanded, leaning toward Charlotte and whispering something in her ear—probably an apology.

I pushed my chair back to do exactly that.

“I’ll come with you,” Ethan said, standing up from his.

We walked away from the terrace, and I lit a cigarette as he pulled something from his pocket.

“What’s that?” I asked him, placing my sunglasses back on my face.

“It’s a vape. Have you never had one?”

“I like these better,” I told him, taking a drag and blowing the smoke away.

“Do you want to try it?” he asked, offering it to me.

I gave it a try but couldn’t hold back my grimace. “Why does it taste like that?”

“It’s mint flavored.”

“That’s not fucking mint. It’s fruity,” I argued.

“Minty watermelon.”

“Why would you want to smoke a watermelon?”

He chuckled before taking another drag. Ethan looked great—his lips wrapping around it, hair falling over his forehead as he leaned forward.

“I don’t know. It tastes better than that,” he said, nodding at my cigarette. I offered, and he shook his head. “I’ve never met anyone who still smokes those.”

“Well, we do have a significant age gap,” I told him.

He looked up at me, holding my gaze steadily, “How old are you?”

“Thirty-four,” I said, seeing surprise in his eyes as a response. “Do I look younger or older?”

“Younger. You’re the oldest, then?”

“The firstborn.”

Ethan kept his eyes on me, and his shyness slipped away with each passing second. It was beautiful to witness. I had been right about that.

“I like your glasses,” he said, the corners of his lips curving upwards.

I pulled them off and placed them on his face.

“How do I look?”

“Dashing,” I said honestly.

Ethan removed the glasses and looked them over before handing them back.

“I’m not gay,” he stated bluntly, pressing his lips together to hold back his smile. Definitely not shy.

“Yes, Oliver mentioned that. I wasn’t gay when I was nineteen, either,” I joked.

An enticing laugh escaped his lips.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out, reading Warren’s name on the screen. “I have to take this.”

Ethan made to go, but I grabbed his wrist before he left. “Can you be a dear and fetch me my drink?”

I didn’t wait for his reply before answering the call. From the corner of my eye, I saw him hesitate before nodding. I smiled to myself. He might need a little work, but he can take orders.

“Has Ida picked a hotel for us yet?” I said into the phone, smirking at Warren’s sigh.

Ethan came back with my drink in his hand. I smiled and winked at him in thanks as he ducked his head with a small grin and made his way back to the table.

He was flattered by the attention, and that was the first step in the right direction. The call with Warren took longer than expected, and I watched them order and start to eat while I stayed away. Ethan glanced my way twice, but nothing more than that.

A while later, he got up from the table and hugged them goodbye.

“Hold that thought, Warren,” I said, holding my phone away from my ear as Ethan made his way toward me. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah. It was nice meeting you, Sebastian.” He held his hand out, but I grabbed his wrist and pulled him in, kissing his cheek.

He tensed before stepping back, a smile playing on his lips.

“Please, call me Ash,” I said. “Or Mr. Langley, if that’s what you’re into,” I added in a whisper.

He chuckled, moving away from me. “Bye, Ash,” he said, grinning.

I watched him walk away, admiring the flex of his muscles. I missed the tennis shorts.

Returning to the call, I finished up and then sat next to Charlotte. They all gave me a look.

“What?” I asked, laughing.

“You’ve been gone the entire time,” Oli complained.

A server came by, placing a plate in front of me. “I have a business to run— your business—the one that pays for the steak you just had, and just about everything else in your life,” I reminded him.

“I have a job,” Oliver pointed out.

“Sure you do. Just like Henry makes his own living,” I said, digging into my food.

“Hey. I run a very successful business,” Henry argued.

“You own nightclubs,” I sighed.

He scowled at me. “They’re very successful.”

“I’m sure they are.” I rolled my eyes before shifting my attention to Charlotte. “You work at an art gallery, right?”

“The Montclair Contemporary.”

I arched a brow, impressed. “Art history major?”

Oliver narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Charlotte’s smile brightened. “That’s right.”

“Remind me, are your parents still married?”

Oliver started shaking his head, already bracing himself, while Henry shot me a curious look.

“They got divorced a while ago.”

I glanced at Oliver before leaning in slightly toward Charlotte. “And would you say your brother has a good relationship with your father, or are there some unresolved issues he should be working through?”

Oliver muttered a curse under his breath as Henry burst out laughing.

“For fuck’s sake, Ash,” Oliver groaned.

“You’re terrible,” Charlotte informed me, though she was laughing too. “Don’t joke about that. He’s half your age and straight. I’m guessing you can get anyone you want—maybe not this one.”

“Is that a bet?” I asked, smirking.

“It most definitely isn’t.”

“I’d bet on Ash,” Henry chimed in “Whenever I bet against him bedding someone, he wins.”

I lifted my glass to him.

“Please stop this. He’s a child and your future brother-in-law,” Oliver said.

I frowned. “He’s your future brother-in-law. If I’m your brother, that doesn’t make him mine, does it?”

They all nodded.

“He’s your brother-in-law because of our marriage,” Charlotte told me.

“Is it weird if that makes it hotter?”

Henry barked a laugh. “It’s very fucking weird.”

“It’s not my fault your little brother’s a snack. Are you going to give me his number?” I asked Charlotte with a grin.

She shook her head, and I pouted. Her laugh rang through the space again—at least she had a sense of humor about this. Oliver, on the other hand, was still looking at me like he wanted to murder me.

My phone vibrated, and I quickly flipped it over. Teddy Langley.

Fuck.

Oliver met my eyes, and his expression shifted from irritation to resigned disappointment. Another pang of guilt. I needed to make time for him and Charlotte—I’d canceled this lunch more times than I could count. As soon as work settled, I’d fix that.

With a sigh, I set my napkin back on the table. “I have to take this. If Father launches into a rant, consider this my parting gift—it was lovely seeing you, Charlie. Even lovelier than seeing your brother in tennis shorts.” I smirked, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to it again. “See you soon.”

Oliver scowled, and I blew him a kiss before answering the call and pulling another cigarette from the box.