Chapter 32
Bonnie
“Termites!” I squeal, scrambling away from Ethan while everyone else laughs.
Ethan and I are curled on one of the couches in the den, Grant’s on the floor, and Luke, Ethan’s dad, and Ingrid, his long-term girlfriend, are on the opposite couch.
We’d enjoyed Ingrid’s mouth-watering pot roast with mashed potatoes, played a few rounds of Scrabble, which Grant won by a landslide, then the lights were turned down, and we're just hanging out and talking, mostly with the family filling me in on major events.
“They’re delicious, and the smell is divine when fried,” Luke says.
“Guys, you’ll make my girlfriend think we’re a bunch of savages,” Ethan protests as Luke and Grant regale me of their last family camping trip.
I’m beyond shocked. I didn’t know people could eat termites.
“Oh, I bet she already does,” Grant says. “I’m sorry, Bonnie, but you picked the worst of the bunch. Ethan is so not the poster child for the Hawthornes. I’ll have you know that Ethan eats his own termites raw.”
“Eww, that’s disgusting, Ethan! How?!” He only laughs.
“If it makes you feel better,” Ingrid adds, “he likes it raw because they look shiny and clean, and they have to be in a tidy row when you serve it. He also takes the legs off, so they’re perfectly oval—”
“No,” I screech, “it makes it worse. I wanna break up, please.”
Ethan grabs me and drags me back onto his lap. “It’s too late, babe, you’re stuck with me.”
“I’ll need therapy for this, I’m telling you.”
“There’s a reason I stopped going with them after the first time.” Ingrid pats Luke’s leg.
“As long as you’re getting help for it, we might as well tell you the rest of his quirks, so you’ll get all the information you need at once,” Grant points out.
“Jesus, there’s more!”
Ethan rumbles behind me, “You have no idea, girlfriend.”
“Oh, my God, what did I sign up for?”
Ingrid says, “Don’t worry, Bonnie, you’re in good hands. These guys have a few unusual habits, but they’re the best in the world. I’m so crazy about you boys.”
“Aww.” Luke pecks her lips.
“You know, it’s interesting, I think I loved Ethan first. I was on the renovation team he hired for Acercraft when they first moved to Fifth Avenue. I made such a mess of the decor, I did the complete opposite to what was specified, and the way he handled it, I think he was more concerned about me beating myself up for it.”
“Ha! Ingrid, you do know that was the transformed Ethan, don’t you? The old one puts the B in barbarian. For about five years, I was worried he couldn’t speak, only communicating in grunts and growls,” Grant says.
“Grant, come on. I was not that bad,” Ethan argues.
“No, that can’t be true, Grant,” Ingrid says.
“Exactly! Thank you!” Ethan says to Ingrid.
“Oh, that was before you knew him, Ingrid. Before Clarissa and co had worked on him.”
“Grant, shut the fuck up.” Ethan sends his brother a death glare.
“Who’s Clarissa? I ask, already intrigued.
“The girl who taught him how to speak again,” Grant happily clarifies.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ethan hugs me tight and kisses my temple. “She’s no one important.”
“She’s certainly important if she had that much impact on you. An ex?” I question.
“A friend,” Ethan reluctantly replies.
“Who loved him. One of his many 'blondies'. He discovered computers and stopped talking, then discovered blondes and started talking again.”
“Pop, get your son. How is this appropriate conversation to have in front of my girlfriend?” Ethan growls.
“Shut up, Grant,” Luke barks at him. “Although, Ethan, I must point out your sudden affinity to the word girlfriend. I notice you’ve worked it into the conversation at least a dozen times. I wonder why that is?”
They guffaw, and even Ingrid chortles, while Ethan groans. “I need a new family.”
I’m wondering what’s so funny when Grant says, “Bonnie, you’re his very first girlfriend.”
“Okay, that’s enough about me,” Ethan snaps. It’s too dark to know for sure, but I think he’s blushing.
“Seriously? You’ve never had a girlfriend?” I whisper. I can’t stop the giddy feeling I got at the news.
“No, you’re my first, my one and only, babe. I was waiting for you to show up.” He replies just as quietly. He puts his face in my neck and sucks on my earlobe, his thumb discreetly slipping under the hem of my t-shirt to caress my belly. Behind me, I feel him start to harden. I bite my lip to suppress a moan, and my hand goes into his thick hair. He knows I can’t resist when he talks like that.
“Yes, lay off your brother, Grant,” Ingrid says into the silence. If the rest see Ethan and I having a moment, they don't say anything.
“Fine, Ingrid. Mom. Whatever. When are you guys going to get married, anyway?” he asks pointedly.
It seems Grant is on roll tonight.
“And that there is our cue to bid you goodnight. I'll leave you guys to battle it out. Remember, Bonnie’s here so you boys behave.” Luke gets up and pulls Ingrid to her feet as well.
Luke comes towards me and holds out his hand. As soon as I take it, he pulls me up and into a bear hug. For a stupid moment, I want to cry. I can’t remember the last time I was hugged by a father figure.
“It was really nice finally meeting you, Bonnie. You’re delightful.”
“Thanks,” I manage past the knot in my throat.
“My pleasure. I look forward to seeing more of you around here.”
Ingrid also gives me a hug, and I thank her for the delicious meal.
They leave with hearty goodnights to their sons.
I observe his family’s easy camaraderie with a mix of envy and sadness. They’ve had their share of challenges with poverty and Ethan’s mom walking out, and Ethan’s unexplained aggression and intense struggle with PTSD, as well as his eye condition, but they’ve come through all of those because they love each other fiercely and unashamedly.
As soon as they leave, Ethan is on his brother. “Grant, you’re such an idiot.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sure Pop doesn’t want to see you making out with your girlfriend.”
“He makes out all the time with his girlfriend.”
“Yeah, like Mom and Dad make out. You guys are like a high voltage tension wire, and sparks were starting to fly everywhere,” Grant says and illustrates his point with his hands.
Grant is right. Ethan could have kissed me right then, and I wouldn’t have minded. I already feel so comfortable with Ethan’s family.
“Besides, I’m just saying what’s on everyone’s mind. We need to hurry Pop along, otherwise, he won’t do it. He’s scared of the commitment of marriage.”
“I really don’t think you’re qualified to question anyone’s relationship, Grant, not until you’re done crashing a certain Parisian wedding,” Ethan snarks.
That effectively shuts Grant up, for a whole five seconds, anyway. “Asshole!”
“Why, is it too late? They pronounced them husband and wife already?” Ethan says, delighting in tormenting his brother.
Grant uncurls his lean frame from the floor, comes towards me, and gives me a sound kiss on my cheek. “I’ll bid you goodnight.”
“Aw, not you, too. Grant, this is no time to be sore. If you want to crash it, you’ll need wingmen, and Bonnie and I are happy to pitch in.”
“Fuck off!”
“Grant, please stay.” I grab his hand. “Ethan, stop winding him up.” I don’t even know what wedding they’re on about, but I didn’t want Grant getting pissed off at his brother. Although, Grant has been on Ethan’s case a lot tonight, so maybe he should have a taste of his own medicine.
“See, Ethan. Bonnie sounds like Ingrid already. She’s a keeper.” He sits on the edge of our couch.
“She’s a keeper, man,” he repeats.
“Don’t change the subject. What are you doing about Dalia?”
“Dalia?” I ask, looking at Grant with new eyes.
“There’s a woman called Dalia who he’s crazy about. It didn’t work out between them a couple of years ago. My brother has since been unable to move on. Now, she’s getting married soon. In Paris. Did I leave anything out, bro?” Ethan revels in filling me in.
Suddenly, it comes to me. “You don’t mean Dalia from the Century Gallery?”
“You’ve met her?” Ethan asks.
“Yeah, we met a couple of times before I moved back to Ireland to look after Nan. When I returned, Sabrina told me she moved abroad. My goodness, you’re Grant!” I exclaim. “You’re Dalia’s smoking hot artist!”
I never met Grant prior to tonight, but that’s what Dalia called him. She was so smitten with him.
A slow smile spreads on his face. “I’ll take it. See, your girlfriend thinks I’m hot, bro.”
“Of course she does, you’re related to me.”
“You’re so conceited, babe,” I tell Ethan. Grant is attractive, tall and lean, tattooed with longish hair and laughing, gray eyes. But he’s nowhere near Ethan’s blatant sexuality. Although, that might just be my bias. I always thought Ethan was attractive before, but now, he has only to look at me and I get wet, so yeah, I think Ethan’s way hotter.
“But, Ethan, how do you know she’s engaged?” I ask.
“Sabrina told me last week.” Ethan faces his brother. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
Grant shrugs. “It’s public knowledge. It was on the fucking cooking show, and there’s even a dedicated ‘Hanklia’ website,” he finishes in a low voice. It’s apparent he’s hurting.
“Hanklia?” I ask.
“Hank and Dalia,” Grant says, looking like he might throw up.
Oh. That sucks.
“Well, that’s just being smug," Ethan growls. “The guy is a celebrity chef,” Ethan explains, absently rubbing the skin on my belly. “He does reality TV. I believe Dalia made a cameo appearance when he announced their engagement.”
I feel for Grant. “Does she love you back, Grant?”
“I don’t see how if she’s marrying someone else.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure unless you’ve talked to her. From the way she talked about you back then, she seemed like she was really head over heels for you, Grant.”
“I fucked up. Big time,” Grant says softly, rubbing the back of his neck, his head bowed.
“So, Bonnie, you’re a fan of crashing the wedding?” Ethan pulls me so I’m leaning against his chest, continuing to stroke his thumb across my belly.
“I probably wouldn’t even wait until the wedding. I’d squash the engagement now.”
“There's a woman after my heart.” I’m getting distracted by his roving hand. “Baby, do you want to start by hacking the shit out of that gloaty website?”
I laugh. Ethan is actually serious about this! “Oh, my god, you’re so dark and devious, Ethan, I love y—” I freeze. “Ah…I like that about you.” Ethan doesn’t appear to notice my slip-up, as he keeps on stroking my belly.
Grant’s smile is slow and knowing. “Hmm. it doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, does it, brother?”
“Absolutely not.” Ethan gives me a kiss on my neck, then pulls me more flush against his steely hardness as he sucks on my skin, taking it between his teeth and biting down. I gasp as he licks the sting away. Warmth blooms under my skin, and I struggle to contain my moan. His brother is right there.
But I know the reason for his behavior. Yep, he noticed. So did Grant. Kill me now.
“What do you say, Grant? Time to maybe break into the Parisian market? Think about the millions waiting to be inspired by your interpretation of the Eiffel Tower at sunrise, and breathtaking images of the Seine River at sunset?”
I laugh at the look on Grant’s face. “Babe, I think you had him at Paris.” I know the idea is taking root in his head. Poor Dalia won’t know what hit her. With what I’ve seen of Grant, Dalia’s chef had better have her well and truly locked in.
Grant stretches. “Okay, let me sleep on it. I should turn in and let you guys suck face, or whatever it is you’re going to do once I leave here.”
“We have rooms for that reason, asswipe,” Ethan reminds him.
“Yeah, but you’re not going to make it up there tonight. Bonnie drops the L-bomb, and the caveman comes out. I know these things. It’s the artist, spidey sense.”
“Just fucking leave already.” Ethan points to the door.
The door hasn’t even shut when he throws me on the couch and follows me down, his delicious weight pressing on me. I don’t get anxiety from being beneath him.
I suppose it’s because I actually feel something now, unlike before with the other men. Which is convenient, since Ethan puts me in this position a lot.
“So,” he whispers, “you love me back, huh?”
“Do not even dare, Harvard. I haven’t forgotten about the termites. Are you fucking kidding me? You eat raw termites!”
“Hey.” He laughs. “You make it sound like a personality disorder! People eat them, it’s a source of animal protein, a delicacy even.”
“How is it not a trigger for you? You lose your shit with a cluttered room and torn packaging, yet you can go camping and eat bugs?”
“The mind is a wonderful thing. I’m not completely incapacitated by my issues. I can still do some things,” he says. Then, he looks into my eyes. “You love me. Say it.”
“And what the hell is it with… blondes?” I spit out the last part like I’ve tasted something bad.
He laughs again. “You should see your face. It was a juvenile thing, I was maybe twenty or so. I was such a late entrant into girls and sex because I was too busy trying to not have my skin crawl at everything. I couldn’t imagine someone touching me or exchanging body fluids so I just rebuffed all the attention I got from girls and drowned myself in computers and videogames."
“Until one night, I was walking to the dorm, and a car almost hit this girl on a bicycle. She swerved and ran into a tree. She was hurt, and the car drove off.”
“Clarissa?” I ask.
“Yeah. She was stunned and disorientated. I couldn’t leave her, so I carried her to the clinic and stayed with her. And once she got better, we became friends.”
"Friends huh" I scoff. "Did you sleep with—”
“Hell, yeah.”
“Why do you have to sound so fucking smug about that!” I shove at him.
“How was I supposed to sound?”
“I dunno, hesitate. Then, admit it with a bit of regret, not freaking leap on the question like, ‘Oh, I’m so super excited to announce I slept with fucking Clarissa.’”
He bursts out laughing once more. “God, I love it when you get all insanely jealous!”
“Whatever.”
“I’m not sorry I slept with her. It was a breakthrough moment, babe. I was over the moon to discover that I could, in fact, be intimate with a woman.”
“So, you became obsessed with proving that you could. Only, you kept it limited to blondes.”
“In a nutshell, yes,” he answers.
“You’re really annoying me right now.” It’s ludicrous that I’m jealous and annoyed, given he’s being so open about this part of his past. I couldn’t even begin to tell him about mine.
“Babe, that was ages ago. You’ve got me now. All of me,” he reassures me.
“Do I?”
“You fucking do, Siobhán. As much as you want. For as long as you want. I'm yours.”
I love when he calls me Siobhán. He only does it when it’s just us. “I like the sound of that.”
“Now, tell me what I want to hear,” he orders.
“No. I’m feeling shy,” I respond.
He scoffs. “You won't be shy when you scream it as you come on my cock. You’ll even spook the horses in the stables.”
I smack his shoulder.” I will not.”
“Wanna bet?”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t.”
“Anyway, just to give you heads up, your undying love for me is going to be the topic at breakfast tomorrow, now that Grant has heard.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Consider yourself fairly warned. He will definitely bring it up. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless he’s already left for Paris by then.” Ethan tilts his head, seriously considering that possibility.
“What? No! He’s going to sleep on it.”
“A thousand bucks says he won’t be at breakfast.”
“Whoa, whoa, that’s not how I do my betting, rich boy.” Brooke once told me Xavier and his friends bet with cars and yachts and houses. “Try five bucks.”
He howls. “That’s just disgraceful, Bonnie. This is an important bet; we’re talking about if and when my brother will take steps toward his future happiness. Surely, the Ethan Hawthornes can do better than that.”
“First of all, we’re not sharing your name, thank you.”
“Fine, the Bonnie Russos can do better,” he says and smiles.
“Ten bucks, then,” I argue.
“I know for a fact you can afford more. Because I pay you.”
“You don’t pay me.”
A knot settles in my belly. We’ve not talked about money yet because I’ve always avoided the subject. I know Ethan has a lot of money, and while I enjoy the luxury that comes with him, spending his money or having him pay for things like my clothes or shopping can sometimes put me in a weird headspace. I couldn’t imagine him actually paying money to my account.
“Sweetheart, whatever issue you had with taking my money needs to die right now.”
He’s already picked up on that. Jeez, does the man have imaginary antennae or something? He’s so good at sussing me out.
“I don’t have any issues with your money,” I lie.
“You don’t? Good, so it's probably a good time to tell you that ever since the day in my office that you begged me to fuck you, I’ve paid your salary and bonuses from my personal account. You're not on company time, baby. You’re on my time.”
I gasp. Horror, disgust, and humiliation wash over me. “Are you serious right now?”
“Of course. What’s the problem? It’s still your salary, isn’t it?”
“Ethan! I can’t believe you right now. Get off me, fucking jackass.” I start bucking violently, trying not to burst into tears. “I’m not a slut that can be bought with—”
“I’m joking, babe! Jesus, stop, I’m joking.” I stop struggling.
“Don’t play with me, Ethan. Are you serious, or are you joking?”
“I couldn’t even do that if I wanted to, babe. And I would never do that to you.”
I sag in relief.
“Siobhán, you're not a slut. You're my smart, sweet, sexy, sassy woman. You fucking rock my world, and you’re all mine.” He looks down at me tenderly.
“And you’re mine,” I say.
“Correct. Baby, I'm dying to buy you things. So, you see why you can’t have issues with taking money from me.”
“Oh, so you just wanted to prove a point?”
“Yep. And you need to work on it fast because I’ve got a ton of money. Which, I’m afraid, from this minute on, comes with my body. Can’t have one without the other.”
“Ethan—”
“As usual, if you have any complaints about the way I run my body, put it into writing and leave it in the trash can in my office.”
I really can’t deal with him sometimes. “I hate you, Ethan.”
“I love you too, Bonnie. So fucking much,” he replies.
He takes my mouth, and I melt under his touch. Throughout our talk, his erection didn’t flag one bit.
Grant was right; we don’t make it up the curving, glass stairs. Ethan insists he would break something if we tried to go upstairs in the state that he was in.
And at breakfast, Grant leaves a note for us about needing to return to Las Vegas. Luke gets majorly pissed off because Grant had taken the week off and flown in from Vegas to spend time with his family, but Ethan only leans toward me and whispers,
“That’ll be ten bucks off your next bonus, babe.”