Chapter 62 Hannah
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
HANNAH
Waking up with my face pressed to an overheated chest has become a part of my routine and is one of my favorite parts of my morning. Although I have a vague memory of them coming in during the night, I’m still surprised to find them surrounding me.
People say that relationships are a lot of work, especially happy ones, but fuck. Is this how it’s always going to be?
Will there always be someone trying to tear us apart?
Will my family ever let us be?
Will there ever come a time when we just get to be happy?
“That’s a deep frown for someone who just woke up,” Rowan rumbles, his own voice sleep-riddled. His lips brush over my forehead, making my chest tighten at the sweet gesture.
Although he was always kind to me when he was married to my mother, I didn’t expect him to be gentle with the ones he loved.
Between what he does for a living and his past, it’s hardly a surprise he’s such a hard man outside these walls. But here? With me? He’s everything I ever wanted in a partner.
Asher shifts behind me, his hardness pressing into my ass and sending a wave of heat to my core. “It’s too early for chattering,” he groans.
“It’s almost nine,” Rowan provides helpfully, which has Asher leaning up on his elbow.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Looks like your body clock turned itself off this morning.” Rowan smirks.
Asher prides himself on his routine, on waking up before the sun and starting the day off right, and even if he has taken the odd opportunity to stay in bed with me, he’s always awake long before I am.
In fact, I think this might be the first time I’ve ever woken up before him.
He drops a kiss to my cheek before sliding out from beside me. Cool air touches my overheated back, and although a moment ago I was too hot, I immediately miss the warmth he provided.
I should get up.
It’s a weekday, and I need to get to work, but I can’t bring myself to pull away from Rowan.
Hell, I’m the boss. I can start anytime I want.
Asher curses under his breath, drawing our attention to where he’s scrolling through his phone at the end of the bed, his brows pinched together.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Rowan untangles himself from around me and reaches for his own phone, a string of profanities filling the room before both men are looking at me with pinched expressions.
Something’s wrong.
Something’s very fucking wrong for them to be looking at me like this.
“Where’s your phone, Hannah?” Asher asks.
“Why?” I whisper.
He hesitates for a moment, eyes flicking to Rowan before settling on my face. “The tabloids have shared some photos…of us,” he explains. “All three of us.”
I open my mouth to respond, but I don’t know what to say.
The fact that he’s hesitant to say anything else tells me that whatever photos are circulating don’t paint me in a good light, but do I really want to know how bad?
Bad as in them both touching me?
Or bad as in them both fucking me?
Without me having to ask, Rowan hands me his phone, and I scan the article, my stomach rolling at every word I read.
Hannah Malone, the granddaughter of business tycoon Jeffrey Malone, has found herself not one, but two men to warm her bed.
The best part? They’re related!
Rowan Cane was briefly married to Hannah’s mother but has clearly traded her in for the newer model. Ex-MMA fighter, Asher Cane, is the third member of this sordid affair, making the situation even more juicy.
When we reached out to Jeffrey about his granddaughter’s affair, he had some choice words for Hannah. “It’s clear her rebellious days aren’t behind her, but I trust she’ll see the true colors of the men she’s allowed to sully her reputation.”
I stop reading when tears fill my eyes, blurring the words together.
He did this.
This isn’t a random article. This is just another one of his tactics to force us apart.
The press has never reported on me before. Not once. I’ve appeared on red carpets more times than I can count, but my face is rarely recognizable enough to be printed. So why the sudden interest?
The photos are from our date night. Some while we were sitting at the table, others when Asher was helping me into the car, but the affection between us is obvious throughout. The familiarity of their hands on me would be hard to argue, and I wouldn’t want to.
In any other context, the photos are beautiful. The way my men look at me like I’m their entire world, how easily they take care of my every want and need, and how relaxed I look between them, like nothing matters because I know they’ll always keep me safe.
Rowan takes the phone from me as Asher pulls me into his arms, dragging a broken sob from my throat.
“I’m sorry, Little Doe,” he whispers against my hair, his firm hold making me cry harder.
“Why is he doing this?” I choke. “Why can’t he just leave me alone?”
“Because he doesn’t like to be told no.”
There are a hundred things I should be doing right now, probably more, but instead I soak up what I know will be the final seconds of peace for the day.
Rowan mutters under his breath, his shoulders tight with tension.
I want to ask what he’s seeing, but instead I choose to preserve the time I have in Asher’s arms while I stare at his bare back.
It’s not until he turns around, my phone clutched tightly in his hand with regret etched into his face, that my stomach bottoms out.
The article was bad enough, but I didn’t consider what else could be out there. Social media posts with trolls dragging me through the mud. My clients waking up to find out the woman who manages their portfolios is being railed by the ex-stepfather and his son.
Oh god.
I dart out of Asher’s arms, not stopping until my knees hit the tiles in front of the toilet, and my body heaves, dispelling the little contents my stomach held.
Was I na?ve to think people would continue to see me as more than my relationship?
Was I stupid to think my track record would be enough for my clients to overlook whatever was happening in my personal life?
Was I a fucking idiot to believe my grandfather would ever let me go?
A hard body drops down beside me and gathers my hair into his fist, holding it, and me, steady through another series of heaves.
I don’t need to look up to know it’s Asher. The way he holds me is different from Rowan, and right now his softness is exactly what I need as I watch everything I’ve ever worked for slip away right before my eyes.