3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Natalie
I should’ve gotten a leash or something.
“Danielle,” I groan, rolling my eyes for the umpteenth time as I yank her shirt. “You’re not going to get both of us thrown out.”
She gives me a pout, but I refuse to let go. Then she sighs, folding her arms loosely. “I wasn’t going to do anything.”
“Right,” I say dryly. “You weren’t going to sneak into the house and pretend like you’re lost so that you can run into Ethan Cross?”
“No?” She feigns nonchalance, biting her lip.
I arch my brow, letting her know I’m not buying the act. It takes a minute, but she ‘fesses up, throwing her hands in the air. “Fine. But it’s not like I plan to steal his shirt or anything. I’m not a crazy, deranged fan. I just want to see him up close.”
Heavens.
It’s not yet noon, and I already have a migraine .
It’s the day before the party and also a Saturday, so Danielle decided to come along. I needed the help—it felt better working with someone who could read my mind—but I regretted it as soon as she got into the car and announced that she was getting Ethan Cross’ autograph.
Too bad I couldn’t drag her out of my car.
Letting go of her shirt, I hand her my list. “Here. I want you to see if everything on the list has been delivered and set up. If it hasn’t been set up, you make a single asterisk. If you can’t find it, you should note it down.”
She sighs, dropping her arms like a petulant baby. “Why? You have a whole crew working for you. I’m sure someone else can handle this.”
I step to the side as she waves the event schedule because I’m not about to get hit in the head. When she’s done with her whining, I thrust my hands on my hips, pinning her with a stare.
“You’re not going to meet or run into Ethan Cross. Like I said, he’s out of the country. Unless you’re looking for the cousin, and he’s a certified playboy, so you don’t have any hopes there.”
Even though I mention not “having any hopes,” I see the bulb that goes on in Danielle’s head. It doesn’t matter to her that Anthony Cross is a playboy either, because Danielle’s version of falling in love is temporary and ever-changing.
I’m quick to shut it down, though, wagging my finger in her face. “No… nope. You’re not doing that. He’s the one who hired me. If you stalk Anthony Cross, I’ll tell the valet you snuck in.”
Danielle gasps, her eyes widening in disbelief. “You wouldn’t.”
My lips curl into a smug smirk, the perfect picture of nonchalance, as I shrug. “Try me. You either help me out as a good best friend would, or you lose your only chance of meeting either of the Cross cousins in the legitimate way. ”
Her shoulders slump, and she lets out a dramatic sigh, clearly defeated. “Alright,” she mutters, throwing her hands up. “Where do you want me to start?”
I point toward the far end of the yard, where part of the crew is setting up the canopy for tomorrow’s event, carefully fixing the décor. The vibrant fabric sways lightly in the breeze, hinting at the grandeur that’s about to unfold.
“There,” I say firmly, watching her for any sign of rebellion.
“Yes, ma’am.” Danielle gives me a mock salute, her tone dripping with false obedience.
I chuckle softly, shaking my head as I watch her stalk off toward the crew, mumbling something under her breath that I’m certain isn’t complimentary. Her reluctance is almost comical, but I know her well enough to trust she’ll get the job done.
It might take a while and some adjusting before she gets there, but Danielle and I haven’t been friends for over a decade for nothing.
“Right,” I say to myself as I turn, picking up my notebook. “Where was I?”
My train of thought—or at least my futile attempt to get back to it—is interrupted by a faint, lingering scent wafting through the air.
I pause, tilting my head slightly as it brushes past my nostrils. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, letting the layers of the aroma settle over me.
It’s familiar.
There’s a hint of sandalwood, warm and earthy, mixed with something spicy that leaves a subtle kick, like a whispered promise I can’t quite grasp. The combination tugs at the edges of my memory, stirring something I can’t fully place.
And then, as quickly as it came, it’s gone—slipping through the air like a phantom .
My eyes snap open, darting around the space as my pulse quickens.
Where did it come from?
I’m sure I’ve smelt it before, although in passing, it made enough of an impression on me that I recognized it again. It’s odd because my line of work puts me in contact with so many people that things never linger unless I know I’ll need them again.
But this—
A twinge of frustration settles in my gut, but I push it away, refusing to let a stray thought interrupt my workflow. I pull back my chair and sit, picking up a pen to make some notes in my book.
Then it hits me.
Not the scent but the memory.
Dark eyes framed by thick lashes and an intense gaze that made my pulse falter. A sharp jawline with a slight stubble that added an edge of ruggedness to his polished appearance.
Ethan Cross.
I glance sharply to my right as my breath catches, half expecting to see him standing there with a scowl on his face. The breath escapes when I find nothing, but it leaves me puzzled.
Why did I smell him?
Danielle’s words couldn’t have triggered it because Ethan Cross managed to work his way into my thoughts yesterday, even though I didn’t catch a glimpse of him.
He crept into my mind at night while I stood in front of the mirror in my bathroom like a thought floating with the wind.
“Is he around?” I wonder aloud. I admit, when he didn’t show up yesterday, I almost asked Anthony if he’d excommunicated himself from the house because of me.
Thankfully, I realized how stupid it sounded, and the question died on my lips. Could he be indoors ?
“Why does it matter?” I mutter angrily, forcing my thoughts back on track. It’s not as though I’m anything in his world. The way he looked at me two days ago, I’ll be surprised if he even remembers what I look like.
I don’t have to think about Ethan Cross for much longer because work takes over, and pretty soon, I’m running around giving orders to a bunch of people.
Danielle, surprisingly, doesn’t try to sneak into the main house again. She’s standing by my side when the butler comes around to inform me that the fresh white roses I ordered have arrived.
“You want to go check on them?” I tease.
She looks like she’s about to give in for a moment, then she shakes her head firmly. “Nope. I’m not going to fall for that. It’s your job, so you should handle it.”
“You sure?” I tease some more, playfully nudging her.
Danielle nods tightly as she bites her lip. “Uhuh.” Then, she exhales and pushes me forward. “You better leave before I change my mind.”
I laugh all the way into the house, heading straight for the kitchen. If the flowers arrived, that’s where they’d be. But when I step inside, they’re nowhere in sight.
Instead, I find Mario, the cook, expertly chopping chicken into thick, even chunks. The aroma of garlic and herbs wafts through the air, teasing my senses.
“Hey,” I greet, leaning against the counter. “Did some flowers come in?”
Mario nods without looking up, his hands never pausing. “Yeah, a lot. So many that they couldn’t fit everything here. I told them to take it to the sunroom.”
A sunroom? I blink, confused. “What’s a sunroom? ”
“It’s on the second floor,” he explains, finally glancing up with a small smile. “To the right. It’s always open, so you can’t miss it.”
“Thank you.” I return his smile. My gaze flickers to the chicken he’s working on. “Those look amazing, by the way.”
Mario chuckles, shaking his head. “You always say that when you’re angling for a taste. Go on—find your flowers. Lunch will be ready soon.”
I laugh softly.
Climbing the stairs makes me feel a little like Danielle as my curiosity spikes with questions that I deftly tuck away.
I’m not going to sneak into Ethan’s room to find out if the sandalwood was a figment of my subconscious.
“I don’t care,” I say firmly, putting my foot down as I get to the second floor. Spotting a slightly ajar door to my left, I make a beeline in that direction, eager to get things over and done with.
The moment I step inside, I freeze.
It’s not the sunroom.
The soft, muted tones of the walls and the neatly made bed in the corner tell me this is a bedroom. The air smells faintly of sandalwood and something warm, like freshly laundered sheets.
I shake my head, already turning to leave, when I hear the sound of a door opening in the corner.
A man steps out of the adjoining bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. He’s wearing nothing but shorts, his back bare and glistening faintly, as if he just stepped out of the shower.
Firm muscles greet my eyes and his broad shoulders have me staring longer than I should. A little lower, and I see it—a long scar running down the length of his back, cutting through.
I gasp.
It’s jagged, almost deliberate like someone wanted it to hurt badly .
The man turns around, and my jaw drops. It’s Ethan Cross.
For the longest moment, neither of us says anything. His gaze is curious as he stares at me like he’s uncertain why I’m standing in his bedroom, but he’s also curious about something else. His eyes trail lower than my face—deliberately—to my feet and back.
Warmth spreads through my body, flooding my chest and sinking past my stomach. I feel it between my thighs, a dull throbbing and an unmistakable one at that.
Somehow, I’m attracted to Ethan Cross. I’ve considered him handsome, and so many others, but he’s never affected me this way until now.
I should turn away and feel repulsed or annoyed, but I don’t. I’m rooted to the spot as my breathing comes out shallow, waiting but not eager for the spell to break.
What is it about him?
The faint scent of sandalwood that found its way to me while we were too far apart, the look he gave me the first time we met that is burned into memory… what is it about Ethan that affects me?
The sound of shuffling footsteps outside the door feels like a rude yank back to reality, and I quickly glance over my shoulder, expecting someone to be there.
Nobody appears, and I turn again, only to come face-to-face with Ethan’s scowl.
“I’m sure your job description doesn’t entail sneaking into bedrooms, does it?”
Mortification replaces the warmth from before, and my cheeks turn bright.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologize profusely, shaking my head. “I was looking for the sunroom, and Mario said something about the door being open. I’m sorry,” I repeat, already backing out .
I exit the room just in time for Ethan to slam the door shut, and the sound reverberates through the house.
“What were you thinking, Natalie?”
If I knew I was going to stand and gawk at a half-naked man like a teenager discovering active hormones, I would’ve sent Danielle instead. At least she would’ve had a better excuse than the one I gave because I’m sure I stammered the entire time.
How did I get the wrong room?
I wonder as I stand a few feet away, my back towards Ethan’s door. The door is closed, but I’m too embarrassed to even glance at it.
Scratching my head, I try to remember what Mario told me. He said the door to the left, right?
No.
The right.
“Oh, Natalie.” I shake my head with a resigned sigh when I finally spot the sunroom in question. “You need help.”
It doesn’t matter, though . I shrug my shoulders as I head downstairs. I just have to get through the party tomorrow; then, I can put all of this behind me. I won’t have to worry about Ethan again or… or… the scar on his back.
The long, jagged scar. I forgot all about it when he turned around, but now I can see it again in my head.
What would possess someone to hurt a person like that? It almost nicked his spine, which meant someone wanted to hurt him badly.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
I don’t realize I’ve spoken aloud or that I’ve left the main house until Danielle throws her arm around me. “What happened?” she asks, then leans in conspiratorially. “Did you see Ethan Cross? Anthony Cross? Any of the Cross brothers? ”
I push her hand off as I roll my eyes. “They’re cousins.”
She shrugs nonchalantly. “Doesn’t make any difference. They’re both handsome single men who would benefit from some loving.”
“I have better things to worry about than someone else’s love life,” I mutter as I walk away, leaving her standing behind.
The thought sneaks into my head—the Cross men and their love life. I don’t let it linger, though. I know better than to dabble in things that’ll never happen.
I’ve seen a couple men like Ethan before, although none as intense as him.
It’s a wildfire.
I don’t intend on getting burned.