Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“Harper and I have known each other for years.”
“Is she your attorney? Is that a conflict of interest?”
“I know her from school and the fact that she dated a friend of mine for about thirty seconds. They were horrible together on that front, but somehow, they became friends. She’s good. I’d use her myself if there wasn’t that personal connection. I don’t like to mix business with—”
“Personal,” I supply.
“And you, Sofia, are the exception to the rule I can’t help but break.”
“I’m not sure what to say to that.”
“Neither am I, baby. Neither am I.”
The endearment is intimate and familiar now in ways I’d never have expected. I like it. Perhaps a little too much for my own good.
Our food arrives, and it’s truly the best omelet I’ve ever had, complete with cheese and freshly prepared veggies, while Ethan’s is packed with meat and cheese. While we eat, he asks me a lot of questions about my designs, my motivation, and my inspiration, which leads to me talking about my mother.
Our plates have been cleared, and I’m trying to pull some history from Ethan, but it’s like pulling teeth. When I’m starting to feel weird about it, he seems to read me and leans in closer. “I am not nearly as interesting as you are, Sofia.”
“We both know that’s not true, but your business is your business, Ethan.”
He captures my leg under the table and my hand, where it rests by my cup. “What if I don’t want it to be?”
His touch is fire, and I’m burning alive, and that’s what scares me. “I think you do. And like I said, that’s okay.”
“I don’t think you’ll like what you’ll see when you really get to know me, Sofia. I’m not ready for that to happen.”
I blink. He’s worried about what I think of him? I can barely fathom this idea, but as I look into his eyes, I see just a hint of trepidation. I think he really feels I can’t handle his world. Or maybe just him. “I already like you, Ethan, or I wouldn’t be here.”
“You don’t know me well enough to say that yet, Sofia. There are things—”
“You think I can’t handle?”
“Yes,” he says. “Exactly.”
It’s at that moment that a man sits down next to me. I jolt and I would rotate if Ethan’s grip on my hand and leg didn’t tighten. “What the fuck are you doing here, Grant?” Ethan snaps.
“Is that any way to greet your brother?”
His brother. This is Ethan’s brother, who he’s expressed to me he is not close to and who he’s in some kind of conflict with at present, which is rather obvious. My gaze settles on Ethan’s face, and the look in his eyes is more than disdain.
He hates this man. He hates him with all his being.
What could make two brothers hate each other as much as these two?
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Following me now, Grant?” Ethan says drily, sipping his coffee. To those who might observe, he is nonchalant, unaffected, and regal. To all but me, whose legs are encased by his powerful, tense thighs, his need to hold onto me offering instructions.
Don’t move. Don’t engage.
“It’s low for even you,” he adds.
“You wish you were that important to me,” Grant replies, and while he attempts to be as aloof as Ethan, his fingers tap the table, and there’s an edgy, nervous energy about him. “We just happened to be here.” He indicates a table to my far right.
I glance over to find a stunning blonde who is voluptuous in a black dress that I can tell fits her curves to perfection even from where she sits. Ethan’s gaze never leaves the table. “What do you want, Grant?”
“Why don’t I invite Anna over and we can catch up?” Grant proposes, and I have no idea why, but I have this sense that it’s a brazen suggestion on Ethan’s brother’s part.
Ethan’s expression doesn’t change, but there is a flex to his legs where they hold mine, and a coldness in his eyes that I can only call brutal. He hates Grant. And I think he might hate Anna, too.
“We’re about to leave,” Ethan states, reaching in his pocket and pulling out his wallet before waving to the waitress.
She rushes over, and Ethan hands his card to her. The woman hurries away, but I watch as a customer stops her, and I’m certain she will not bring that bill nearly as fast as Ethan would prefer at this point. Grant then does what I’ve silently hoped to avoid. He shifts to face me, and thankfully, Ethan releases my legs as I instinctively scoot further away from Grant and rotate to bring him into full view.
He doesn’t strike me as Ethan’s brother, though he’s good-looking, I suppose, but there is an imperfect quality to him Ethan does not possess. His jaw is not quite as straight, his eyes not quite as bright blue, his presence nowhere near as magnetic. And I don’t know what got into me, but I say, “You don’t look like him. You even have a different energy.”