Chapter 11 #2
Aaron guides us swiftly through the hotel’s entrance. “You know all you have to do is say ‘carry me’ and I will.”
“I just might take you up on that after a few hours in these,” I say with a small laugh, then immediately wonder if it was too flirtatious.
Marble and crystal dominate The Beaufort’s lobby, the vaulted ceilings dwarfing even the most statuesque guests in their finery.
We weave through the crowd, and I can’t help but notice the subtle double-takes Aaron receives.
Heads turn, recognition dawns, and several people acknowledge him with slight nods that he returns without breaking stride.
“Popular guy,” I murmur.
“Occupational hazard,” he replies with a self-deprecating smile as we head toward the elevator. “Romance authors are surprisingly recognizable in certain circles.”
As the elevator carries us upward in silence I see Aaron’s reflection in the mirrored walls, his eyes trace over my naked legs.
“See something interesting?”
“Very.” That one word speaks volumes.
When the elevator doors open with a soft chime, I’m momentarily stunned. The penthouse ballroom glitters with strategic lighting that catches on crystal chandeliers and casts dramatic shadows across art installations featuring Axel’s comic book characters brought to life.
I instantly start hunting for the infamous floral wall Demi had been working on for weeks.
And there—near the floor-to-ceiling windows—is the floral wall.
It’s jaw-dropping: a twelve-foot tapestry of peonies, roses, and rare orchids in a gradient from blood red to ghostly white, threaded with golden wire and dotted with what appear to be hand-painted, larger-than-life comic panels featuring Axel’s new superheroes locked in kinetic battle.
The whole thing is both whimsical and intimidating, over-the-top but also weirdly personal.
I’m so struck by the display that I forget Aaron is right next to me until he leans down, close enough that his lips brush the shell of my ear.
“You should take a picture. You look like you belong in front of it.” His voice is low, the words almost lost to the music and chatter, but the effect is a tiny electric current running straight down my spine.
I turn to him. “I think I’ve been photographed enough for one evening.”
A server appears with champagne flutes balanced on a silver tray.
Aaron takes two, passing one to me, brushing our fingertips together.
I sip the expensive bubbles, feeling them fizz against my tongue—dry, yet delicate with subtle notes of pear and white flowers.
The champagne cools my throat but does nothing for the warmth spreading through me each time I catch Aaron stealing glances my way when he thinks I’m not looking.
The crowd parts like the Red Sea as a man strides toward us.
He’s tall, with the kind of bone structure that belongs on magazine covers, and skin the color of honey in sunlight.
His eyes—dark and almond-shaped beneath stylish rectangular frames—miss nothing.
When he smiles, I swear I hear the collective intake of breath from three women nearby.
Everything about him screams confidence: the tailored suit that fits like it was poured onto his lean frame, the undercut hairstyle with longer top slicked back without a strand out of place, the way he moves like he owns not just the room but the entire building.
“There you are,” he beams, clapping Aaron on the shoulder before turning to me. “And this must be the lawyer who’s been haunting my brother’s thoughts.” When I heard the name Axel, I thought he would be a nerdy White guy, but Axel looks like he could be of Southeast Asian descent.
“Axel,” Aaron warns.
Axel extends his hand. “He’s mentioned you approximately thirty times since Tuesday.”
I accept his handshake, noting how Aaron’s posture stiffens beside me. “Only thirty? I must be slipping.”
“Oh, what he lacked in quantity, he made up for in quality.” Axel laughs. “Brilliant was the word he used. Also terrifying and the most stubborn person you’ve ever encountered?”
I turn back to Axel and gesture toward a nearby display. “The dynamic composition in these battle scenes is remarkable.”
Axel’s eyebrows lift. “You’re familiar with my work?”
“I may have stayed up until 2 AM last night with your Crimson Eclipse series,” I admit. “Your female protagonists have actual agency and complexity. That shouldn’t be revolutionary in 2023, but somehow it still is.”
Axel’s face breaks into a genuine smile. “Aaron,” he says without looking away from me, “if you mess this up, I’m disowning you.”
“I can hear you,” I remind him.
“And I can see you,” comes a new voice. A tall man with a low fade haircut and startlingly blue eyes approaches.
He’s built like a football player. All broad shoulders and powerful chest straining against an expensive suit.
Despite his imposing size, there's something almost boyish about his wide grin. “I’m Grayson Singleton. The superior brother.”
Everything about him screams professional athlete. The easy confidence, the perfect teeth, the casual stance that somehow still showcases impressive shoulders. Now Grayson is what I expected.
“Nice to meet you.” I shake his hand. “Minji.”
“Nice meeting you as well, TA Minji.” He smiles. “Once again, Aaron has not stopped talking about you. And you would think he got over that silly college crush of his.” Grayson finishes with a smirk.
I feel my cheeks warming. Silly crush? TA Minji…
holy shit. I glance at Aaron, whose expression has transformed from confidence to something closer to mortification.
So he is that Aaron from college. Do not make this awkward, Minji, just act like you didn’t hear that.
Shit. Shit. Shit. He is that Aaron. Fuck.
“Grayson,” Aaron says through gritted teeth. “Maybe save the embarrassing stories for later?”
“Oh, there’s plenty more where that came from.” Grayson winks at me. “I’ve got twenty years of material.”
“And I have twenty years of dirt on you too,” Aaron counters, his voice light but his eyes communicating something more serious to his brother.
I clear my throat, suddenly feeling like I’ve stumbled into a family dynamic I wasn’t prepared for. “So, Grayson, Aaron mentioned you play hockey?”
“Professional hockey,” Grayson corrects, puffing up slightly. “Left wing for the Rangers.”
“Impressive,” I say, genuinely meaning it. “Though I have to admit, I don’t follow sports much.”
“That makes two of us,” Axel chimes in. “I only go to his games to see the fights.”
The three brothers fall into easy banter that speaks of decades of shared history.
I watch them, fascinated by how different they are, yet how seamlessly they connect.
It’s clear they aren’t biologically related, but the bonds between them seem stronger than many blood relationships I’ve witnessed in my career.
But holy shit, I can’t believe he is that Aaron from college.
Did he pick Parras Law to find an attorney to shadow because he knew I worked there?
I have so many questions but tonight is about his brother, not our past.
“So, Minji.” Axel turns his attention back to me. “Aaron tells me you’re a divorce attorney. That must give you an interesting perspective on relationships.”
“It certainly teaches you what not to do,” I reply, taking another sip of champagne.
“I bet. Ever handle any athlete divorces? Those can get messy.”
“Client confidentiality prevents me from discussing specific cases,” is my automatic reply.
“She’s not going to spill tea, Gray,” Aaron interjects. “Unlike some people, Minji understands professional boundaries.”
I catch the pointed look Aaron gives him, and Grayson has the grace to look slightly abashed.
“Speaking of professional matters,” Aaron begins. “I want to have some alone time with Minji.” His hand presses more firmly against my back, steering me away from his brothers. “Excuse us.”
As we move through the crowd, I can’t help but smile. “They seem nice.”
“They’re menaces,” Aaron mutters, but there’s undeniable affection in his voice. “I should never have mentioned you to them.”
“And what exactly did you mention?” I ask. I wonder if he is going to lie.
Aaron stops walking and turns to face me. “Well, I know you heard the slip up with Grayson.”
I nod.
“You probably don’t remember me, but we knew each other in college,” he begins. “You were my TA for chem, and then—” He hesitates. “Then we spent two months together. Until you ghosted me on Valentine’s Day.”
The floor seems to tilt beneath me. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. “You remember that?”
He gives a soft, hollow laugh. “Of course I remember. You made quite the impression.”
“That’s…” I struggle to find the right words, and I don’t want to seem like an asshole. “Well, I guess it wasn’t a lasting impression since you got engaged. Shouldn’t you be—”
A commotion near the entrance draws our attention. A woman in a form-fitting black dress walks in, surrounded by photographers and, I assume, admirers. Even from across the room, I can see she’s stunning. She’s tall and slender with dark brown skin and an aura that commands attention.
I feel Aaron stiffen beside me, his hand dropping away from my back, almost immediately, as if I burned him. I glance up at him, and his expression has transformed completely. Gone is the warm, intimate gaze, replaced by something hard and distant.
“Aaron?” I call him, but I’m met with nothing but silence.