Chapter Eleven
ASH
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck fuck.
FUCK.
What the hell was that, Sebastian?
Where did control go, huh?
How did you just… lose it like that?
Eyes locked on the path ahead, I trailed Henry through the crowd, trying not to choke on my own heartbeat. Trying not to puke from the sudden, gut-deep wave of guilt clawing up my throat.
Shouldn’t have done that.
Fucking hell.
Couldn’t believe I’d just done that.
The table—and of course, Luca—came into view, and I fought every instinct screaming at me to turn around and disappear. Couldn’t do that. I was supposed to be a fucking adult.
It had been a very long time since I’d craved a cigarette like this.
Just one.
Or five.
Before we reached them, before anyone spotted me, I grabbed Henry’s arm and held him back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ethan stop too, only for Mateo to lay a hand on the small of his back and guide him forward.
Henry glanced at me, wide-eyed, curious—and very much like he wanted to mock me. That alone made my teeth grind. Because he was part of the fucking problem too.
“What do you need?” he asked.
Deep breath. Calm. You are going to calm down.
“Why did you make me come to this thing?” The accusation in my voice was embarrassingly obvious. So much for calm.
His eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?” A dry laugh. “Is this somehow my fault?”
“Yes.”
Another laugh. “You’re fucking delusional.”
I stepped in closer. “Why the fuck do you have to keep touching him all the time? You know it messes with my head. Why do you keep doing it?”
Henry’s expression snapped through shock, confusion, and straight into outrage so fast it made me dizzy.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me a little farther out of view, leaning in. “First of all, how fucking dare you? Are you seriously accusing me of making a move on your guy right now? Because you know damn well I would never do that to you. Ever.”
Guilt hit hard once more—shoving some of the anger out of its way.
“Second, if you’re pissed about the touching, take that up with Ethan, not me. He’s the one who wanted to rile you up to get back at Luca.”
What?
“I’ve told both of you to stop putting me in the fucking middle,” he went on. “Because I am not choosing a side when this blows up in your faces.”
I stared at him, lips parted.
“And third—what the fuck, Sebastian?” He threw me a look full of disbelief. “You’re being a dick. Just make up your mind already.”
“I don’t need to—”
“Oh, no? You don’t?” He was mad—Henry was genuinely mad at me—and something inside my chest tightened another notch. “You think you can just keep going on like this and not make a choice?”
“That’s not—”
“You need to either break up with your robot boyfriend—who is very fucking aware that you still have feelings for Ethan—or you need to ask Ethan to back the fuck up. But you cannot keep playing the nice guy, flirting with everybody like there won’t be consequences.
Because in case you haven’t noticed, you’ve completely lost the plot. ”
I blinked, stunned.
“I get you’re under a lot of stress. I get that. But you don’t do shit like this,” Henry said, jabbing a finger at me. “Almost getting into a fistfight with Mateo? Oli told me you haven’t been answering his calls for weeks. Picking a fight with me? And now cheating?”
My body locked, absorbing each word like impact after impact.
“And yeah, why don’t we talk about that too?
Because it seems to me like you’re doing what you always did with your ‘relationships,’ just slapping a boyfriend label on it this time to make it look more presentable.
And I know you don’t give a fuck what people think about that, so the only logical reason you could keep up this charade is to force distance between you and Ethan—which means you’re just fucking using that guy.
Do you realize that? How fucked up that is? ”
The words were caught in my throat. Nothing came out.
“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, Ash. You’re a goddamn robot yourself. What the fuck happened to your programming?”
The panic surged again—fast, rising from somewhere I couldn’t reach or control.
The floor felt unstable beneath my feet, like everything I had carefully kept aligned was coming apart all at once.
He wasn’t wrong—and the fact that he wasn’t, made something inside me cave in.
Every plan I’d set out for myself—for us—was crumbling, and somehow, I was still the one it all led back to.
Even if I had no idea how the fucking wrecking ball had picked up this much speed, I’d been the one to set it off.
I swallowed hard. “I don’t know.” My voice came out small. Unrecognizable.
Henry didn’t answer right away. He just stared at me, chest still heaving with leftover anger, like he didn’t know what to do with the version of me standing in front of him.
The silence stretched.
Some of the fight left his shoulders. “Fuck,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “That was harsh. I’m sorry—”
“No.” My hands settled on my hips, needing something solid to hold me upright. “No. That was called for.”
He studied me for another second, the anger fading into something heavier. “I know you’re not a robot,” he said more gently. “You just pretend to be. But lately… you’re not doing such a great job of it.”
A humorless laugh left me.
“It’s messy,” he went on. “Everything is messy.”
“I know.”
“I thought you didn’t like messy.”
I didn’t.
Everything needed to get back in order.
“I’m sorry. It’s not your fault,” I said, dragging my hands through my hair. “Clearly.”
Henry just watched me like he was trying to decide whether to push again or back off. “What are you going to do?”
What I should’ve done the second I saw Ethan in Madrid.
“Leave.”
He nodded and gave my back a quick pat as we moved toward the table again.
The second I saw the back of Ethan’s head, heat flared through my chest—my body reacting on instinct, remembering his mouth, his breath, those barely there sounds he made against my lips.
Denying what I felt for him had always been a losing battle.
I’d known it since the night we kissed in the Hamptons. I’d been gone for him ever since.
The closer we got, the more I noticed the tension in him: shoulders creeping up, arms crossed tight, and weight shifting from foot to foot. He was annoyed. Or pissed. Something was winding him up again.
Then I saw who he was talking to. Not Mateo. Not Luca. That guy from the office. The one who wouldn’t stop hovering around him. Bruno. Ethan always looked like he’d rather be anywhere else when that man was near—and tonight was no exception.
The impulse to step in burned through me, but I tamped it down. First things first.
I sidestepped them and stopped in front of Luca, touching his elbow lightly. “Luca.”
He turned with a smile. “Yes?”
“I’m going to take off. Come with me?”
He nodded, but as his eyes drifted over my face, the smile slipped. What did he see? Was it written all over me that I was still reeling from that kiss?
“Let me say goodbye,” he said.
Behind him, Ethan stepped back again, Bruno following with a grin that made my jaw tick. Normally I could’ve brushed something like that off. Right now it hit me like a flare to the chest.
Ethan took another step back.
The guy leaned in closer.
My body twitched—an involuntary urge to move toward them.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Luca said, rejoining me.
We rounded the table, closing in slowly, the crowd’s heat brushing against my shoulders, strobe lights flashing across Ethan’s pale hair.
“I’m not really in the mood to dance right now.” His voice carried through the music.
“You are going to tell Henry, yes?” Luca asked, leaning closer.
“He knows.” I didn’t take my eyes off Ethan.
Then Bruno stepped in again, hand sliding onto Ethan’s waist as he said something into his ear. Ethan looked like he was seconds from rolling his eyes, and I knew he could handle himself. I knew he could.
But apparently my programming really was broken.
I stepped up behind Ethan and laid a hand on the guy’s shoulder. He looked confused for half a second once he noticed me—probably thinking it had been Ethan who had touched him—definitely not his boss.
His eyes went wide.
“How many different ways does he have to say no for you to get it?” I said.
He parted his lips but didn’t speak.
Ethan didn’t move—not even a twitch—and his scent hit me again, warm and damp from dancing. All I could think of was his mouth on mine.
“What?” the guy finally asked, eyes flicking to Ethan.
“Go find someone else.” I leaned in close enough that Ethan’s hair brushed my neck. “Touch him again and you won’t just be out of a job at my company—you’ll be out of one in this city.”
He swallowed hard, then gave a jerky nod.
“You should’ve taken the hint.” Ethan stepped back slightly—pressing his back against my chest. “In case it wasn’t obvious, you’re not my type—and you’re staring at it right now.”
Those words—
Fuck.
They sent something wild and possessive through me, a violent urge to wrap myself around him, to claim him so completely the entire room would understand. The entire world.
I locked my muscles in place.
The guy finally walked off, and when Ethan turned his head, my attention followed the line of his gaze.
Straight to Luca.
He was standing right there. The lights flickered over his face, sharpening the tension around his mouth—nothing like his usual careful composure.
Ethan fitted himself closer to me without hesitation. “Doesn’t he look pretty when he’s jealous?”
The words weren’t for me. They were about me.
As Luca all but sneered at him, the moment settled into place with brutal clarity.
Ethan wasn’t the problem here.
I was.
I was the one who had let this blur into something reckless. The one who hadn’t ended things when I should have. The one who kept standing too close, touching too long, and wanting too much.
Enough.