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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

ASH

E than was wreaking havoc on my life.

I had no idea how or when this had turned into what it was. One day, I was stealing glances at his toned legs in tennis shorts; now, I was watching those same legs flex as he strolled leisurely across the room. The vast ocean framed him perfectly through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a backdrop that only amplified the absurdity of how much I wanted him. He wore nothing but briefs, his shorter hair in an endearing mess—partly from sleep, partly from the rough tumble we’d shared in bed after dinner last night.

We had arrived at the hotel just before sunset and set out for a drink and a stroll. Dinner had been at a restaurant I loved, and for once, we had been eating among other people—a refreshing change for us. I was on the phone when the server approached, speaking in a heavy Spanish accent. He had asked Ethan if he knew what I wanted to drink, phrasing it in a way that made my stomach drop.

“Do you know what your father would like to drink?”

Ethan’s eyes had widened comically, his lips pressing together in a desperate attempt to contain his laughter. I had opened my mouth to correct the man, but Ethan had placed a hand on my arm to stop me.

“Macallan, neat,” he had said with impressive composure. The moment the server had turned, Ethan burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking as he tried—and failed—to keep it quiet.

I had shaken my head, hiding my own smile as I returned to my call. But Ethan hadn’t let it go. Every time the server came by, he had referred to me as “Dad,” and, in one particularly disturbing moment, “Daddy.”

By the end of dinner, we had both been full and a little tipsy. On our way out, Ethan had stopped me at the door. He had tugged on my shirt, pulled me down for a kiss—bold, unapologetic—and then turned back toward the restaurant, winking at the dumbfounded server.

Back at the hotel, we had barely made it through a quick shower before stumbling into bed. We couldn’t stop laughing, the alcohol making us giddy and uncoordinated. And then Ethan, with that wicked, mischievous smile of his, had leaned in close, tugging on my neck, and whispered, “Fuck me, Daddy.”

That word was now ruined forever.

Now, here we were—the morning after. Ethan was walking around the room, completely at ease in his skin, and I wanted nothing more than to steal him away and keep him here with me forever. It had been less than twenty-four hours, and I was having the best time I’d had in years.

And it wasn’t just the sex. God, the sex was phenomenal—better than I ever could have imagined. But it was more than that. It was him. It was being with him, laughing with him, sitting together on the terrace sharing a smoke. It was coming back to the house and finding him there, waiting for me, like he belonged there.

I fucking loved it. All of it.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this close to another person.

And yet, all of this—this connection, this ridiculous joy—had to be with the nineteen-year-old brother of my brother’s fiancée. Anyone else in the world, and it wouldn’t have been such a goddamn tragedy. But it was Ethan, and I knew I had to end it and break his heart in the process.

I could see how fast he was falling for me, and I did nothing to stop it. In fact, I kept giving him exactly what he wanted. I couldn’t help it. I loved the way his face softened when I spoke to him, how he reached for my touch like it was instinct, and how willingly he came to me when I beckoned. I loved how sharp his humor was getting, how proud he looked every time he made me laugh.

I didn’t know what was happening to me.

All I knew was that I never wanted him to stop looking at me like that—like I was his entire world.

“Do you have to work today?” Ethan asked, the curve of his back looking sinful as he looked over his shoulder.

I nodded regretfully.“I have a couple of meetings and then I’m all yours,” I promised.

“You always say that, and then it’s nine at night, you’re still on your phone, and I’m bored out of my mind,” he countered, rolling his eyes.

I smiled and walked over to him, placing my hands on his shoulders and sliding them down his arms. “Yes, but you’re in Barcelona now—no getting bored here.”

Ethan stepped back, leaning into me, his back pressing against my chest. “Are you going to be in a good mood when you get back?”

I frowned, caught off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been in a shitty mood lately,” he deadpanned.

I sighed, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck. “Sorry about that, darling,” I said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before attempting to step back.

But Ethan grabbed my hand, holding me there. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m great,” I said, forcing a smile and slipping my hand from his grasp.

“So, things are good? With your dad? Oli?” he pressed, his gaze steady.

I looked away, reaching for my phone as an excuse to avoid his probing eyes. “They’re good.”

Ethan’s smile disappeared, replaced by a sharp, knowing look. “Why are you lying?”

I sighed again, this time more heavily. “Look, darling, it’s just work stuff. Nothing you need to worry about. It’ll sort itself out.”

“I’m not worried about your work, I’m worried about you, ” he said sweetly. “And we’re friends. You keep insisting that’s what we are. Friends talk about this stuff. Henry tells me about his work.”

“His nightclubs,” I corrected.

“No, his work ,” Ethan repeated, his tone firmer this time. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, and I blinked, surprised to find it directed at me.

“Pet, why are you?—”

“Because you’re mean about it,” Ethan interrupted. “You’re mean to him about his work, and he feels that, even if he hides it. Just because he doesn’t work for you doesn’t mean he’s not successful.”

A knot twisted in my chest, jealousy mixing with guilt in a way I hated to acknowledge. “I know that. He’s my brother, Ethan. I love him, and I don’t need your opinion on how to navigate our relationship.”

Ethan didn’t flinch. Instead, he took a few steps closer, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think people tell you when you’re fucking up enough. Since we’re friends , I thought I’d chip in,” he said, his sarcasm biting.

“You’re wrong about that. People tell me plenty. In increasing increments, in fact.”

Ethan tilted his head, his cold eyes raking over my face. “I’m not telling you how to treat your brother. I know how much you care about him. You’re just insensitive about his work, and he’s told me how much it bothers him.”

My shoulders slumped under the quiet conviction of his words. “It’s a joke. He knows I don’t mean it.”

“Not everything is a joke,” Ethan said simply, throwing my own words back at me.

“Point taken, darling. Any other requests on Henry’s behalf?” I asked, a hint of bitterness creeping into my voice.

“It’s not on his behalf. He’d never ask me to tell you something,” Ethan said with a casual shrug. “I just want you to know you can talk to me about what’s going on. I know you’re upset.”

I studied him for a long moment before giving a brisk nod. “Sure, darling.”

Disappointment flashed briefly across his face, but he let it go. “Fine. I’m heading down to the gym,” he said, his jaw tightening as he turned toward the bedroom. “I’ll send you a picture after—maybe get you off—” he paused for effect, his lips twisting into a smirk, “—work earlier.”

He disappeared behind the doors, and I stood there, flustered, as his parting words echoed in my head. He was learning far too quickly how to keep me hooked.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur of tension and frustration. Ethan wasn’t wrong—I’d been having a shitty week. My father had blindsided me repeatedly, cutting me out of decisions and redirecting deals I’d worked on for months. Warren, ever the loyal soldier, was by his side at every turn, wearing that smug smirk.

Oliver had turned cold toward me again, his trust in me shattered after everything with Henry and Ethan. Our last conversation on Monday had devolved into yet another argument—this time about loyalty, accusations of lying, and shifting alliances. Since then, we’d barely spoken, resorting to communicating through Aria.

I kept hoping the tension between us would ease on its own, but things only escalated. By the time my second meeting ended, Warren had informed me that another one of my investments was being blocked and redirected, effective immediately. He’d also dumped several tasks from my former role, now Oliver’s, back onto my plate.

I spent two hours trying—and failing—to get my father on the phone, my frustration mounting with each unanswered call. When I finally broke down and called Oliver, he made some snide comment about the tennis match.

I hung up on him.

When I got back to the hotel, I was in a terrible mood. Ethan greeted me with a bright smile, ready to head out and enjoy all the things I’d promised him, but I could only manage a tight, forced smile in return. I stuck it out, though, letting Aria join us as they chatted animatedly. I stayed on the sidelines, smoking and scrolling through my phone, waiting for a response that never came. Ethan kept glancing at me, concern creeping into his expression, but I avoided his gaze.

Back at the hotel after dinner, Aria left, and Ethan wasted no time pushing me down onto the couch and straddling my lap. His lips found my neck, his hands raking through my hair, but I barely responded. I closed my eyes, trying to get into it, but my head wouldn’t stop spinning.

Ethan pulled back and studied me, his fingers brushing lightly over my cheek. “Do you want to just go to bed?”

“No,” I said quickly, then sighed. “Sorry, darling. Maybe I’ll have a drink.”

He exhaled and stood, walking to the bar. He poured me a glass and handed it to me, but when I reached for it, he held on, his gaze steady.

“You can’t get your mind off it, Ash,” he pointed out, before finally letting go.

I drained half the glass in one go and turned away.

“If I can’t distract you like this,” he said, motioning between us, “then why don’t you just tell me about it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Ethan,” I said tersely, my annoyance flaring. The last thing I needed was a nineteen-year-old lecturing me on how to manage my fucking company.

“It’s not like I think I’ll understand everything, but maybe it’ll help you de-stress.”

I lit a cigarette, taking a long drag. “I’m not stressed.”

Ethan let out a breathless laugh, crossing his arms. “Then what are you?”

“Serious,” I replied flatly, taking another drag.

“Right,” he said, nodding slowly, his disappointment palpable. “Well, maybe I’ll go out for a while by myself.” He stared at me, waiting for a reaction.

I shrugged. “You’re free to do as you like.”

Ethan breathed out sharply, shaking his head. “You’re fucking impossible when you get like this,” he muttered.

“When I get like what, Ethan?” I snapped, my irritation boiling over. “I’m sorry I can’t be all fun and games for you. I have actual responsibilities in life apart from fucking you.”

He froze, his blue eyes widening at my words. The hurt flashed across his face, sharp and unguarded, before his expression hardened. His chin tilted up defiantly, but the sting of regret was already gnawing at me.

“I’m sorry I forgot you’re the mighty Sebastian Langley,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “A simple kid like me could never understand the weight on your shoulders. Funny how you keep deciding what I’m old enough for. Old enough to get your dick in, but not for a simple conversation about your day.”

I clicked my tongue. “I don’t have to talk to you about everything.”

“I’m not asking you to. Right now, all I want is for you to stop being an asshole to me,” he said, stepping closer.

“Right, by lecturing me and giving me empty threats about leaving, hoping I’ll stop you. You wonder why I treat you like a kid? Maybe stop acting like one.”I took a deep breath and stood up, walking toward the bar. “If you want to go out, have at it. I’ll be no fun tonight.”

Ethan’s lips pulled down into a grim line, but he didn’t back down. “Why do you think all I want from you is fun? Just talk to me.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, reading a text from Warren. My father was too busy to take my calls, but he expected my reports by Thursday. I closed my eyes, my temper fraying to its limit.

“You can tell me about it,” Ethan said again, softer this time, but it was the final push I didn’t need.

“I’m not your fucking boyfriend, Ethan,” I snapped, turning toward him. His blue eyes widened in shock. “This is not a fucking relationship. Stop trying to make it into something it’s not. I don’t feel like talking to you about it because that’s not what you’re for.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and cutting. Ethan stood there, motionless, his eyes suddenly brighter, his lips parted in stunned silence. His face flushed, and for a moment, he looked like he might speak, but he didn’t.

He turned abruptly, walking to the door, his movements stiff. The door slammed behind him, and the sound echoed in the room, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

I closed my eyes and dragged my hands through my hair. Guilt hit me like a wave, heavy and unrelenting. I shook my head, cursing under my breath, before grabbing the card key and heading after him.

The elevator had already gone, so I chose the stairs instead, my urgency propelling me down each flight. By the time I reached the lobby, I couldn’t spot him anywhere. Panic bloomed in my chest. I approached the doorman who pointed in the direction Ethan had gone. I followed, practically running, until I caught a glimpse of golden hair from the corner of my eye.

I stopped abruptly, my heart sinking at the sight before me. Ethan was crouched in the alley next to the hotel, his face buried in his arms. He looked so small, so hurt, and my chest tightened with guilt.

I stepped closer, crouching in front of him. Gently, I reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. “Ethan.”

He flinched away from my touch. “Leave me alone, Sebastian,” he said, his voice muffled but strained, thick with tears.

“Darling, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. Please, come back upstairs with me.”

He shook his head, still hiding his face. “I know you meant it,” he said quietly, his words slicing through me. I heard the unmistakable sound of a sniffle, and my heart broke a little more.

Shifting closer, I reached for his arms, gently coaxing them away from his face. At first, he resisted, but then, reluctantly, he let me pull him into an embrace. His arms wrapped around my neck as I sat back on my heels, circling his waist with my own.

“I’m so sorry,” I tried again, pressing a kiss to his cheek. His skin was wet beneath my lips.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” he said bluntly.

I couldn’t help but nod. “I am,” I admitted. “I know I am. Why do you think I only hang out with my family? Nobody else can stand me.”

Ethan shook his head.

“I’m so sorry, pet. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.” I ran my hand through his disheveled hair, holding him closer.

“I’m not hurt,” he muttered. “I’m mad.”

A smile tugged at my lips despite myself. “I’m sorry for pissing you off then.”

“I’m not trying to force you into anything, I just…” He trailed off.

I closed my eyes, pulling him tighter against me.

It was time for a little honesty to make up for this.“I care so much about you, pet. So fucking much. You know I adore you. You’re important to me. I’m sorry I said you weren’t. That’s not true—it’s never been true. Not with you.”

Ethan’s arms tightened around me in response. “Do you mean that?”

I nodded and eased back slightly, wanting to look at him.

Ethan moved reluctantly, his tear-streaked face coming into view. His bright, glistening eyes were filled with pain, and knowing I had caused it tore me apart.

“I mean it,” I said, my voice steady as I wiped a stray tear from his cheek with my thumb.

He turned his face away from my touch, clearly not wanting me to see him like this.

“Will you forgive me?”

“Are you going to keep acting like this?” His frown deepened, but there was a flicker of hope in his voice.

“No,” I promised. “I’m pissed off with my father, and I need to learn how to separate my personal feelings from the professional. That’s not on you, pet. It’s all me.”

Ethan nodded, his expression softening slightly. “I know what it feels like when someone bruises your pride, Ash,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of understanding.

“I’m sorry I’m the one serving you that lesson. I think the world of you, Ethan. Please don’t let me hurt you like that again. I’m the fucking idiot here.”

Ethan blinked, his brow furrowing slightly, as if he’d realized something in that moment that caught him off guard. He didn’t say anything, though, and after a beat, he nodded again.

He let me guide him to his feet, and we made our way back to the room together.

* * *

As the tension between us faded, Ethan softened, and we ended up in the tub together. The room was dimly lit, the warm water lapping gently against us as he leaned back against my chest, his fingers absently playing with mine. For the first time, I let myself speak about what had been weighing on me. Not because I wanted advice or solutions, but because saying it out loud—calmly, to him—eased a part of the burden I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying.

I told him everything. Months of frustration, endless fights, the gnawing feeling of uselessness—it all poured out of me. And with it came an unexpected wave of relief, so strong it made me crave to tell him more.

“I was ten when our mother passed,” I said softly, the words coming out unbidden.

Ethan turned his head, resting it against my shoulder, listening.

“Oli had just turned six, and Henny wasn’t even four,” I continued, my voice steady but thick with emotion. “They were so little. Our mother…she was a smoker, a drinker. She cursed constantly, but she was affectionate. She loved us unconditionally. After the funeral, all I could think about was how they would grow up without that. I swore to myself they would still feel loved. I’d protect them. I’d be more than just their older brother. They both slept in my room for years.”

Ethan dropped a small kiss on my jaw. “You were little too, you know.”

I nuzzled my nose into his temple, smiling faintly. “I know, pet. But they needed me more. They’ve always been my priority. And you’ve met our father—you know how he is. I had to protect them from that too. I don’t know if Henny ever mentioned it, but I didn’t want him to work for our company. Just like I didn’t want Oli to do it, either. My father…he’s like a cancer, getting under your skin and poisoning everything.”

I sighed deeply. “I know I shoulder some of the blame for what’s happened with Oli, but my father makes it so much worse. If this keeps going the way it is, I’m going to lose him. I should be trying to fix things, but every time the bullshit from work takes over, I lose sight of everything else. I lash out. Every time I see Oli’s disappointment in me, it just makes it worse.” The weight of my words settled heavily in my chest.

“Oli loves you, Ash,” Ethan said softly. “You’re not going to lose him.”

I clicked my tongue, my throat tightening. “The one thing he’s ever asked of me, and I didn’t keep my word.”

Ethan tensed against me. “I’m sorry, Ash.”

I wrapped my arms more securely around him. “It was my choice, darling. I’m a grown man.” I kissed his neck and whispered, “I couldn’t resist something that was just mine. You came when I needed you.”

Ethan’s knuckles brushed over my stubble as he tilted his head to look at me. “Do you know why my parents split up?”

“Oli told me your mom had an affair,” I said gently.

Ethan nodded against my chest. “I caught her,” he said, his voice steady but serious. “They were parked at a shopping mall. I walked past and saw them. I confronted her, and she begged me to lie until she was ready to tell my dad. But she didn’t. I couldn’t sleep for months. We had a fight because she wouldn’t end it, and I told him.” Ethan paused, his fingers still against mine. “My dad got angry with me. We had another fight, and then all hell broke loose. They didn’t split up right away, and the screaming matches were constant. Charlotte didn’t see most of it, and I never told her.”

I ran my fingers through his damp hair, brushing it away from his forehead. “How old were you?”

“Fifteen,” Ethan replied.

A fierce protectiveness surged through me, and I tightened my arm around him.

“I’m fine, Ash. I’m not telling you this for a pity party.”

I smiled at his resilience. “Go on.”

“Everything was a mess, and I hated that I’d gotten in the middle of it. So I made myself small. Never argued, never gave strong opinions, never got mad. I guess that’s what you call my Bennett politeness. I just…I never felt like I could be myself.” Ethan turned in the tub, facing me. His expression was open, raw, and vulnerable. “Until you.”

His words curled in my chest, warming me from the inside out.

“You came when I didn’t know I needed you,” he said softly. “And you didn’t like it when I was quiet.”

Everything clicked into place—the initial shyness that didn’t match his moods, his reluctance to make noise, the bursts of anger. It wasn’t age or immaturity; it was Ethan battling himself.

“You’re perfect, pet,” I said, cradling his cheek in my palm and stroking his smooth skin with my thumb. “I wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

Ethan covered my hand with his own. “You’re impossible to resist too. You’re not going to lose your brothers. They know what they have is too good to give up over a fight. There’s nothing like having you in our corner.”

I hummed softly, pulling him back into my arms. Ethan curled against my chest, his warm skin a comfort against mine. I blinked away the slight burn in my eyes, savoring the closeness.

That night, as he fell asleep in my arms, something shifted irrevocably.

Ethan was different.

I didn’t want to keep the wall between us—the one I’d built with everyone else. I didn’t know what would happen if I let it down, if I let myself truly feel with him.

I tightened my arm around his waist and kissed the side of his neck. He stirred, letting out a soft, contented sound that I committed to memory.

I guessed I was going to find out.