Chapter One
ASH
Summer clung to the city. September heat settled into the streets, stubbornly refusing to leave. Tourists still crowded the sidewalks bright with color and sweat as the city eased back into its everyday rhythm.
I navigated through the familiar chaos, sidestepping a stroller, ducking past a sunhat, until I spotted the entrance tucked between two high-end boutiques. The gate was already open.
I stepped through and followed a narrow hallway into a space I hadn’t seen before. When I pushed through the side door, I stopped.
It was raw, but there was no mistaking the potential.
Thick stone walls wrapped the room in quiet.
Wooden beams stretched overhead, open to the cloudless sky—Madrid blue.
Vines spilled from the top, untrimmed but not careless, like someone had told them exactly where to grow.
The air inside was still, warm, and scented faintly with old dust and sun-soaked brick.
Of course Henry would find this place. My little brother had a knack for spotting beauty in places no one else would think to look.
“And the prodigal son returns at long last,” Henry announced.
I turned to him with a smile.
He walked my way with arms wide and his signature grin intact.
“Are you the prodigal son in this scenario?” I wrapped him in a hug as soon as he came close enough. “We’ve been over this—Oli is the favorite.”
“Yeah, well, he’s not here, is he?” Henry’s laugh echoed across the open space, and I let it settle over me like a warm blanket. It had been too long since we lived in the same country.
Four years.
Four fucking years.
Sure, we’d seen each other often—never more than a couple of months between visits—but the distance, the lack of a shared daily rhythm, had gone on far too long. I was used to Henry the way I was used to a limb. Life felt off without him.
“Finally, a little sanity enters the equation,” came Raúl’s voice as he crossed the room.
“Is he giving you a hard time?” I asked him.
Henry rolled his eyes. “He’s been making budget cuts left and right. He’s supposed to be a luxury consultant.”
Raúl raised a brow. “I’m fairly certain that question was meant for me.”
I laughed and reached out to shake his hand. Raúl was helping Henry with this latest opening, though I’d known him for years. As soon as Henry decided to open a club here, I knew bringing Raúl in was the right call—even if things had gotten off to a rocky start.
They were opposites, but in a way that worked. Raúl was a top-tier luxury consultant with years of experience behind him and a sharp, almost surgical eye for detail. He took his work seriously—like cathedral-seriously—and had a reputation for being meticulous, precise, and a little intimidating.
Henry, on the other hand, was chaos dressed in charm. I knew firsthand how hard it could be to take him seriously. He was the most sociable of us brothers, all jokes and playfulness, which often masked just how clever he really was. And how deeply he felt.
Henry was a force of nature. In four years, he’d taken two clubs and turned them into eleven—eleven highly successful ones.
He’d built an empire from scratch, far from the shadow of our father and our family name.
And he’d done it by staying hands-on, never stepping back.
The travel alone would have wrecked someone else, but not him.
I’d join him when I could—just never in one particular city. New York was still off-limits.
A thrill zipped through me at the thought of him—his pale blue eyes, that quiet smile. I shook my head, pulling myself back to the present.
Raúl crossed his arms. “We are not having marble statues, Henry.”
“Just for the bathrooms.” Henry grinned, tossing him a wink.
Raúl stared at him, exasperation etched across his face. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”
Henry clapped him on the shoulder, laughing.
Raúl sighed and turned to me. “I thought you said he was serious.”
“Nah. Just nepotism at its finest.” Henry started walking backward, arms spread wide as if presenting a stage. “What do you think, Ash?”
“There’s potential,” I said, letting my gaze sweep over the stone walls.
“Potential?” Henry scoffed. “It’s going to make Soho House look like amateur hour. Come on—let me give you the tour.”
He waved me forward and walked me through the space, outlining everything in exhausting detail. By the end, I could tell Raúl was a little impressed—even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.
“I was thinking the bar could go here.” Henry gestured toward the far wall. “Make it a feature. Maybe commission an artist.”
“We could ask my cousin,” Raúl offered.
My smirk widened. “Oh, you definitely want his cousin.” I chuckled when Raúl shot me a glare.
“What?” Henry’s gaze moved between us. “Why?”
“He’s a brilliant sculptor. Large-scale work—”
“He’s also hot as fuck,” I cut in.
Raúl let out a long-suffering sigh.
“Not my type,” I added, “but definitely a nice view.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed with curiosity. “How hot?”
“I don’t think that’s relevant—”
“Thor-hot,” I interrupted again. “Think Viking meets construction worker. The kind of guy you’d expect to see on a crumpled nineties pin-up, ripped jeans hanging open, leaning back on a Harley.”
Raúl rubbed both hands over his face, pushing his glasses up into his hair.
Henry gave a low whistle. “Sounds qualified to me. Tell him we expect him to start on Monday.”
“He’s not in the country,” Raúl said, “but I’ll set up a meeting so you can actually review his qualifications.”
“Don’t be a spoilsport. Bring your hot cousin.” My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, glancing at the screen before typing out a quick message. “Are we getting lunch?”
“Yeah, but we have to stop by my apartment first. It’s on the way.” Henry had that glint in his eye—the one that meant he was hiding something and found it incredibly entertaining.
“I’ll politely decline this time,” Raúl said.
“Really?” Henry tilted his head. “Such a shame. We could’ve used your sunny disposition.”
Raúl clicked his tongue, and Henry snickered.
We moved through the streets of Salamanca, Madrid’s polished little bubble where everything gleamed a bit more than it needed to.
The buildings were all sharp lines and elegant stone.
Real plants hung from the balconies, watered regularly instead of left to sunburn like everywhere else in the city.
Cafés bled onto the sidewalks with silver trays and glass tumblers sweating into white napkins.
Beside me, Henry kept a brisk pace. “Come on,” he said. “This way.”
“Are you taking the place?”
“Yup,” he said. “Signed the papers this morning. I’m thinking it’ll probably be around six to eight months until we’re up and running.”
“That much?”
“There’s a hiccup with the property. It’s historical, so construction permits are rough. Bringing it up to code will be a pain.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty standard here. My apartment was a mess too. But it’s going to be great, Henny—I can tell.”
He tried not to grin outright, but the pleasure showed anyway.
“I’m proud of you.”
Henry stopped abruptly, his eyebrows shooting up. “I beg your fucking pardon?”
I laughed. “Don’t be like that. You know I am.”
He shook his head, still amused. “You’ve gone soft in your old age.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I muttered.
Henry’s grin widened. “What’s it going to be—forty?”
“I’m turning thirty-nine, fuck you very much.”
He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, and I rolled my eyes.
“Europe’s definitely softened you up,” he said, pressing his lips together to hold back a smile. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”
A comfortable silence settled between us as we kept walking, still in sync.
Henry glanced over as we turned onto another street. “You know who’s gone soft too?”
I let out a long exhale. “Are you about to give me the same speech Oli did? Dad’s changed; he wants to do better,” I said, mimicking Oliver’s calm drawl.
“I’m not saying the old man’s perfect, Ash. But he’s trying to be there now.”
“For you.”
Henry shrugged. “And Oli. Char. The kids. When was the last time you talked to him?”
I looked away, trying—and failing—to remember. Didn’t matter. I didn’t owe him anything. He’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with me.
“Look, I know it was bad, Ash. The last one was really bad. But you can tell he regrets it.”
“How, Henny? How can you tell? Has he actually said the words? Has he told you, Henry, I’m sorry I called your brother a fucking disgrace to the family name?”
Henry grimaced. “Not in so many words…”
“Then no. I’m not folding first. If he wants me in his life, he can apologize like a grown man,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time. I was done trying to keep the peace. It had been a relief to finally step away from his impossible expectations.
And right now? Was Henry kidding me? I already had enough on my plate, and he should’ve known that—it wasn’t exactly a secret. When my name was on the line, the press wasted no time circling. By now our father had probably added this to his running list of I told you so’s.
And then it hit me.
Three years ago. That was the last time we spoke.
It had been civil. Hollow. No apologies, no acknowledgment. Just a quiet, final kind of silence.
Now wasn’t the time to break it. Not until this whole mess was fixed.
“Don’t get mad, Ash,” Henry said. “It was just an idea.”
“A terrible idea.”
“Fine.” He sighed. “It’s through here.” He led us around the corner to a narrow entrance next to a bakery. The building was four stories, all clean stone and iron balconies.
My phone buzzed again, and I stopped to check it. “I’ll wait for you down here.”
“No, you won’t. You’re coming upstairs. I have a surprise for you.”
I exhaled but caught the look in his eyes—the one that said I had no shot of getting out of this. Resigned, I smiled and nodded for him to lead the way.
“Promise it’ll be worth it,” he said in a singsong voice.
We stepped into the building’s cool, marble-lined lobby—quiet and shaded. The walls were pale stone with gold-edged mirrors, and the scent of wood polish and something floral hung in the air.
Henry hit the call button, and the elevator arrived with a soft chime and a creak of effort.
One of those old ones—gated, with a wrought-iron door you had to slide across by hand.
The interior was wood-paneled, small enough that we had to stand close, shoulder to shoulder.
The ride up was slow, the elevator groaning faintly as we passed each floor.
“You really know how to keep a guy in suspense,” I said.
Henry smirked, eyes fixed ahead. “You’ll thank me.”
The elevator jolted to a stop, and the door opened with a metallic rattle. He stepped out, keys already in hand, and led me into his apartment.
The place was chaos—boxes stacked high, with barely any walking room in between.
“You know, there are people who can help you unpack.”
“They’re not mine,” he said with a shrug. “This was an unforeseen problem.”
I spotted his things underneath the boxes, mostly unpacked. Curious.
“Babe, I’m home!” he called out.
My eyebrow arched. “You’re dating someone already?”
He turned with a grin threatening to split his face. “Why would that be a surprise for you?”
I was about to answer when a door at the back of what had to be the living room swung open.
And he walked out.
My heart stopped dead in my chest.
“Fucking finally, Henny.” The voice was rough, low, and familiar. “I needed to see the landlord—like ten minutes ago. Can’t do lunch. I’ll meet you for a drink later, yeah?”
He didn’t look up. Just sat on the sofa, pulling on his shoes, tying the laces like this wasn’t the most important fucking moment of my life. Like I wasn’t standing there, breathless, because after four years, Ethan Bennett was in the same room as me.
Four fucking years.
And time had only worked in his favor.
My eyes dragged over him—his tanned arms, the lean muscle lining them, his elegant hands, and that sharp jaw. His hair—god, his hair—was damp and curled messily across his forehead, longer than I’d ever seen it.
The only thing I hadn’t seen was his eyes.
I let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for hours, though it had only been seconds. “Well… aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
His head snapped up instantly.
Ah.
There they were.
Those perfect baby blues landed on mine—and widened. His lips parted as he pushed off the couch, staring at me like he’d just seen a ghost.
All the air vanished.
From the room. From the planet.
And just like that, it was only us.
Ethan Bennett was standing right in front of me, and my chest could’ve exploded from the sheer amount of happiness it was trying to contain.
I smiled, holding his gaze. “Hello, darling.”