Chapter Twelve
ETHAN
Iwalked into the apartment, straight to my room, and dropped face-first onto the bed. I squeezed my eyes shut against the burn gathering there and pulled in a deep breath to calm myself down.
It didn’t work.
Fucking Sebastian Langley. Why did he have to be so goddamn stubborn?
“Hey,” Henry’s voice came through the door, followed by a knock and the soft creak as it opened. “How’d it go?”
I pushed myself upright and faced him.
His shoulders sagged the second he took in the expression on my face. “Oh, fuck. What did he say?”
My gaze dropped to my lap, a dry laugh slipping out. “That we’re friends. I don’t think I’ve ever hated that word more.”
“Aw, babe, I fucking hate this.”
“Don’t.” I slumped back on the bed, rubbing my hands hard over my face, hoping it might wipe the sting of tears away. “I knew this was going to happen.” My lip wobbled anyway, and I bit down on it, trying to keep it together.
The mattress dipped as Henry sat beside me. “Maybe a little time…”
“He doesn’t need time,” I muttered into my hands. “What he needs is a glass of ice water to the face. Something to shock him out of whatever delusional restraint he’s clinging to.”
Henry huffed. “That would be fun to watch.”
My stomach twisted painfully. All I could think about was last night—the way his body had given in to mine, the urgency in his mouth, the way he held me like he’d been starving for it. Compared to that, the stiffness from earlier felt like a punch straight to the gut.
“Why doesn’t he ever choose me?” My voice came out small.
The mattress dipped beside me, Henry’s fingers settling gently on my head. “E, Ash always chooses you.”
My face tightened into a frown.
“I don’t know what’s going through his head right now,” he said. “But don’t ever think it’s because he doesn’t care.”
I turned onto my side, finally looking at him. Henry was propped on his elbow, brows drawn, expression soft.
“I want to hurt him,” I said quietly.
His eyebrows shot up.
“Not like that.” My eyes drifted to the ceiling. “I want him to realize he’s making a mistake. I don’t want to be the one—” I shook my head. “I want him to beg. Not me.”
Henry shrugged, face scrunching thoughtfully. “I mean, I guess I get that. Sounds fair.”
“I’m so mad at him. Why the fuck didn’t he break up with him?”
Henry blinked. “He didn’t?”
“I don’t think he did. I asked, and he just sat there staring at me with his stupid, broody eyes.”
“Hey, we have the same stupid, broody eyes. Watch it.”
I shoved his shoulder. “Don’t be cute—I’m fucking pissed.”
Henry chuckled. “I’m trying to lighten your mood.”
I rolled onto my back, anger and ache clashing inside me, neither willing to give.
“Hey…” he said carefully. “I feel like I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Have you actually tried talking to Ash about this? Like, have you two had an adult conversation about still having feelings for each other?”
“We talked about boundaries and being friends.”
“While flirting and crossing every single one of them…”
“Well, yeah. That too.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Henry pushed himself up slightly, his attention locking onto me. “Have you told him you want him back?”
We just stared at each other.
“You haven’t, have you?” He let out a slow breath. “E… wanting him to admit it is fine. But pretending you don’t care unless he says something first?” His brows lifted like he couldn’t believe I was even arguing it. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
I swallowed, something in me bristling at how close that landed. “I’m not pretending.”
“You are,” he said. “You’re acting like it’s just about sex because that’s safer. Because if he chooses you first, you don’t have to risk anything.”
My jaw clenched.
Henry watched me for a moment before speaking again, quieter this time.
“And you know him better than anyone. You know he digs his heels in until someone forces him to move.” He dragged a hand over his mouth, as if he was choosing his next words carefully.
“I’m not saying that’s on you,” he added.
“But this… game you’re both playing? It’s not getting either of you anywhere. I know it’s scary—”
“I’m not scared,” I cut in.
He tilted his head, clearly not buying it. “Sure, babe. You’re behaving like a completely mature and well-balanced adult.”
“You’re the one who taught me I could get him to do what I wanted if I took my clothes off.”
Henry barked a laugh. “That was fucking ages ago. I’m all grown up now—soon to be therapized and shit. My new advice is: you can’t seduce him into being in love with you.”
The sheets rustled softly as I moved.
“You can get him into bed,” he added, “but that’s not what you want, is it?”
I tilted my chin. “What if it is?”
Henry gave me a wan smile, one that said he knew better, then shrugged. “Then you’re the one not playing fair, because that’s not what he wants.”
That made me pause, my walls dropping just a fraction. “He’s still with his fucking boyfriend. What do you mean that’s not what he wants?”
“Come on, E,” he said. “You know him better than that.” He sat up on the bed, offering me his hand. “Don’t sell yourself short. Ask for what you really want.”
I stared at his hand.
What I really wanted…
My mind tangled instantly—Sebastian and his games, my father and his, years of feeling unseen and unheard, wanting things I was never supposed to ask for.
What was the point of wanting anything when no one ever wanted to give it to me?
Life never handed me shit. If I wanted something, I had to take it.
“I know what I want,” I said, rising from the bed without his aid.
Henry let his arm drop. “You do?”
I shrugged, a smile forming at the corner of my mouth. That wasn’t how this was going to end.
This time, Sebastian didn’t get the last word.
Work that week was somehow both fun and horrible.
VistaReal had turned out to be a great fit for me. The job was demanding, but it leaned straight into the things I was good at—reading a room, connecting dots no one else bothered to look at, catching what people muttered under their breath, and turning it into something useful.
Marcela noticed. That’s how I ended up sitting in meetings people at my level usually heard about through office gossip instead of firsthand—because I could walk in, read the dynamics in thirty seconds, and hand her exactly what she needed.
Did I understand every spreadsheet on sight?
Absolutely not. But I always knew which questions to ask and which ones to save for a late-night Google deep dive.
And every time I cracked something open or held my own in a room I technically had no business being in, it made me more confident—more certain I could get whatever the hell I set my sights on.
The company itself, though, felt… tight.
Phones rang more often and got answered faster.
Conversations dropped to murmurs when certain names came up.
Finance people walked the halls with clipped steps and tight jaws.
Words like audit scope, liquidity, and reallocation floated through conference rooms as if everyone had suddenly learned a new language overnight.
And to top it off, the CFO of the company was now actively avoiding me.
Which was incredibly annoying, since I was the one avoiding him. How the hell was I supposed to punish him for his terrible decision-making if I didn’t actually see him?
The truth was, he barely existed in the building anymore.
When he did appear, it was between meetings, phone pressed to his ear, expression carved from stone.
The few times I caught sight of him through glass walls or at the far end of a corridor, he looked like a man holding an entire structure upright by sheer force of will.
And even those tiny sightings made my stupid heart race. Every time I heard the click of expensive shoes in the hall or caught a trace of his cologne—Halfeti, of course—my whole body went on alert like I was being hunted.
I didn’t know how to handle this new distance between us. Even through my anger, I didn’t want to be away from him.
Confusing. Everything with Sebastian was always so fucking confusing.
Fortunately, Charlotte and Oliver were coming in a couple of weeks.
That alone was enough to boost my mood. Spending time with my sister was the exact touching-grass moment I needed right now—a reminder that there was a whole life outside the Langley universe.
I mean, technically she was in it too, but she was still my sister.
Also, that was probably going to force interactions between us. He could avoid me at work, but he sure as hell couldn’t avoid me in social gatherings.
If there was one unexpected bright spot in the middle of all this, it was Vanessa.
Sebastian’s assistant had somehow become my lunch-break companion—and, possibly, my best chance at understanding what the hell was going on inside his fortress.
She had proven to be an invaluable source of insider intel.
Not that I was gathering information.
I was just… staying informed.
She found me out in the courtyard on Thursday, the midday sun warming my shoulders while the wind tunneled between the buildings and chilled my ankles. Madrid couldn’t commit to a temperature.
Much like someone else I knew.
“Why are you out here?” Vanessa asked, dropping onto the bench beside me.
“It was getting stifling in there.”
That—and Mr. Boss Man had asked Marcela, in an unsurprising turn of events, to keep their meeting to department heads only, effectively running me out of it. He didn’t even look at me when he said it. Just a polite smile. No eye contact. Like I was a fucking intern he’d barely met.
Out here, at least, I could breathe without feeling the weight of his dismissal pressing down on my lungs.
“There’s AC in there,” she pointed out.
“Allegedly.” I took a bite of my sandwich. “Also, the vibe screams impending financial apocalypse.”
She snorted. “Fair.”
A gust of wind lifted the edge of my napkin.
“Are you going to Sebastian’s party tomorrow?” she asked.
The bite became significantly harder to swallow. “I’m not sure yet…”
“Henry’s called me three times today alone to check on Sebastian’s guest list.”
I frowned. “How come?”
“Says he needs RSVPs for masks or something.” She poked at her lunch with a plastic fork.
“That’s weird.”
“You know what’s super weird?” Vanessa looked at me through her fringe with a sly smile.
“What?”
She went back to eating with the most fake-disinterested expression I’d ever seen.
“Why are you edging me?”
She laughed, then turned toward me again. “Luca hasn’t RSVPed.”
“Seriously?” My eyebrows shot up and my pulse jumped—way too obvious—and I took another bite to hide it.
She nodded, scooting a little closer. “I asked Sebastian about it today, and he said Luca was out of town—but that seems weird, right? Like… it’s his birthday. And he hasn’t been over in a while.”
God, I loved her.
“Maybe they’re fighting.”
“Maybe.” Another bite. Then, “So… are you going?”
I leaned back, staring across the courtyard where employees hurried between buildings like nothing in the world was shifting under their feet.
He could avoid me in the halls, in meetings, behind glass walls, and with polite smiles, but he couldn’t avoid me at his own party.
“It’s Saints and Sinners, right?”
She nodded.
“What’s he wearing?”
“A hot-as-sin suit from Prada. I picked it up for him two days ago.”
I chewed as an idea began forming—slow at first, then picking up speed, turning into something wicked.
He wanted control? Wanted distance?
Perfect.
Let him try to keep it.
“Do you know any good costume shops?”
She leaned back on the bench. “Are we talking prim and proper or provocative?”
“Provocative.” I grinned. “Definitely provocative.”