Trouble: An Alpha Billionaire Romance by Lane, Ellen (6)

Chapter 10 - Change of Plans

 

Three weeks flew by far faster than Vladimir had imagined it would. This was, of course, due majorly to the fact that they were constantly working. They were up at the crack of dawn, absorbed in company matters all day, and they barely had time for dinner before retiring.

Of course, it didn’t help that there was very little actual sleep involved.

Vladimir, who was usually meticulous about his sleeping patterns, found them in the wind when he joined Charlotte in her suite every night. He told himself that he would have her once before retiring, but once always turned into twice...and twice into more. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her - the sounds she made, the way she clutched at him.

And then, of course, there was what came after. Something that he had never indulged in before. They talked.

About everything and nothing at all. It had started with Charlotte asking him about the first time he’d come back to Russia after being adopted. To his surprise, she listened attentively to him for thirty minutes, her fingers drumming lightly across his abdomen. He, in turn, had asked her about her childhood. While Vlad knew that his father and her father knew one another, he could only remember meeting the man a few times when he was younger.

And he’d certainly never met Charlotte. She made an impression that wasn’t easy to forget.

Vladimir considered himself beyond the suffering of his childhood. It was something instrumental to his later life, but he had always considered the Kensleys more family than perhaps anyone but his late mother, and his sister had been long lost to him.

Charlotte, however, spoke of losing her mother at age nine as if it was yesterday. “She had ovarian cancer and they found it too late.” She didn’t dissolve into tears and hysterics, but the grief in the woman’s voice was somehow more effective than either of those things. “It killed us...she was our backbone. The cement that held the family together. She was the one who always told me that I could be whoever I wanted, and damn what anyone else thought.”

Vlad reached down on impulse to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb across her kiss swollen lips. “Well,” he murmured, “At least I know who taught you to curse like a sailor.”

It made her laugh, lifting the mood considerably.

Making Charlotte Gardner laugh, Vladimir realized, was a rare treat. Almost enough for him to understand why his brother Lucas so enjoyed the company of others. Vladimir had never had the social graces to interact as much as his brothers, but when he was with Charlotte, he seemed for forget his misgivings.

She put him at ease in a way no woman ever had.

While the sex was explosive, Vladimir returned to Charlotte’s room night after night for the intimacy as much as he did for the physicality of the arrangement. Being near her had a calming effect on him that carried him through the day - that was, at least, as long as he didn’t catch any of the Russian construction workers staring at her.

That was enough to foul his mood considerably.

Vladimir had been to St. Petersburg many times - mostly for work, but only one or two occasions, for pleasure alone. Despite the initial hiccups upon arrival, he found he had never enjoyed a trip as much as he did in Charlotte’s company. He wasn’t the only one to notice the fact either. Shiro constantly commented on how chipper he seemed in comparison to his usual stern demeanor.

Eventually, however, their last few days in St. Petersburg were upon them. Vladimir spent a number of them closeted with his brother in the office, in phone conference with their father, giving him an update on the building progress. As a result, he didn’t see Charlotte for almost forty-eight hours.

Forty-eight of the precious hours remaining until they returned to the US and the media spotlight.

Sometime during the flurry of activity Vladimir realized that there were less than six months remaining until he was poised to take over leadership of the company from his father. It was enough to incite a slight moment of panic - just before he remembered the words Charlotte had murmured against the crown of his head.

So, you’re saying that a broken, angry thirteen-year-old boy put in no effort, didn’t bust his ass to become the man you are today? I can’t imagine that Jackson Kensley would allow someone like that at the head of his company, even if he is his adopted son. You don’t give yourself enough credit, Vladimir.

They were words that he had always brushed off. His mother spoke them almost constantly, his father always emphasized just how proud he was and his brothers gave him their endless support.

So why did Charlotte saying them make any difference?

“You ready to go back to LA?” He and Toshiro were sharing a cup of coffee at around three in the morning, and Vladimir didn’t even realize how lost he had been in his own thoughts until his brother spoke to him.

He looked up to find the Japanese man fixing him with a worried expression and frowned. “What’s that look for?”

Toshiro arched a brow. “Do you really have to ask?”

Vladimir groaned. “If this is about Charlotte, I’m perfectly capable of handling things with her myself.”

“You’re the one obsessed with Charlotte, Vlad,” Toshiro caught him with a wry smile. “All I care about is you.”

“So, you’re worried about me,” Vladimir returned flatly, taking a long sip of the life-giving caffeine that he held. “I think we’ve switched places.”

“Oh, please, Vlad,” Toshiro rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his own coffee before setting the mug on the table as he sobered. “It’s coming up on the one year mark. Less than six months now.”

Vladimir merely nodded, his expression carefully neutral. “How’s the project in LA going?” Toshiro knew as much as Vladimir what their father had been attempting to do when he assigned the man to the project. For Vlad, who always followed the rules, thinking outside the box was his biggest challenge.

And Charlotte Gardner was the embodiment of that.

Vladimir answered with complete honesty. “Quite well.” In the weeks that they’d been gone, both he and Charlotte had been in correspondence with Charlie, who gave them updates almost daily. The framing for the entire building had been laid and the first floors were beginning to take their incredible shape. “We’re ahead of schedule, and I’m looking forward to the first walkthroughs.”

“Well, that’s a far sight different than you sounded when work on the building began.” Toshiro replied casually. “You were up in arms about the design-”

“And I’m still not crazy about it. It’s unorthodox...completely different than any other building in the skyline.” He had watched, slightly confounded, as the building that Charlotte worked on here began to shape with only slightly less abstract detailing than the one in LA and simply done his best to accept it. He knew how she worked, he knew about the money they would save and he knew that her style was one that he couldn’t comprehend...just like he could hardly comprehend what was between them.

“Vlad...I’m going to tell you something, and you might not like it.” The statement was enough to make the taller man tense in his seat.

“Alright.”

Toshiro folded lithe fingers together, pressing them to his chin a moment before he spoke. “You don’t like change. You like predictability and a firm schedule. You like things you can control and manipulate...and it’s one of your few weaknesses.”

Vladimir arched a brow. “Are you my psychiatrist now?”

“No, but I’d honestly love to see a shrink try and tackle you. I’d grab popcorn for that show.” Vladimir rolled his eyes.

“There is nothing wrong with the way I operate, Toshiro. It works. It had always worked.”

“And you’re always miserable,” Toshiro blew out a breath. “Right up until the moment you let go.”

It was late - and getting later. Despite the boost of caffeine to his system, Vladimir didn’t think he was in any shape to discuss this now. His brother always picked the worst times to try and drag him into complicated conversations. “Toshiro, the sooner I go home, the better. And that means we have to finish this paperwork, so let’s finish it.”

He supposed that his brother was too tired himself to argue much, but Vlad would have had to be blind to miss the scrutinizing look Shiro shot him out of the corner of his eye. Almost as if he were looking for something.

Though exactly what, Vladimir wasn’t sure.

 

After forty-eight straight hours of work, Vladimir was too tired to do much more than collapse into the bed in his penthouse suite. He sent Charlotte a quick message letting her know that he had returned, and tried not to think of the packing he had to do later. If he was in no fit state to have Charlotte beneath him, he certainly didn’t want to drag out his suitcase and fill it.

He hadn’t even realized that he had fallen asleep until he woke around nine in the evening, the lavish room lit only by the dim light of a lamp. Vlad lie there, half-asleep, until a low rustling sound stirred him into instant consciousness. He sat up immediately, fixated on a shadow across the room - and found, to his surprise, Charlotte, perched in an armchair at the foot of the bed.

She was meticulously folding several freshly laundered pairs of slacks before dropping them into the bag at her feet. For a moment, Vladimir watched her, totally flummoxed.

At the sound of his rising, she looked up to find him staring at her and the corner of her full mouth raised in an amused smile. “Well, Good Morning.”

“What are you doing?” Vladimir blurted in reply - ever tactful, as usual.

Charlotte demonstrated by folding another pair of slacks before placing them in his bag. “Well, we’re leaving tomorrow, so I had them do your dry cleaning. And now, I’m putting said dry-cleaning into your suitcase.”

“Why?” It was an inane question, and Vlad could only reason that it had passed his lips because he was still half-asleep. Charlotte merely arched an auburn brow at his inquiry.

“Why not? You’re tired. You need to sleep. I might as well make myself useful if they don’t need me at the jobsite anymore. I’ve already said all my goodbyes. Unless…” She trailed off, wrinkling her nose, “Please don’t tell me you’re OCD about other people touching your things. I’m already half done.”

“No…. I…” Vlad found himself inexplicably tongue-tied. She obviously hadn’t come here with the intention of climbing in bed with him - and she wasn’t trying to seduce him. The only thing she was doing was packing his clothing in his stead. “Thank you.”

Charlotte answered absently, now folding a thick woolen sweater. “You should go back to sleep. You’ll wake up tomorrow well-rested.”

And having entirely spent their last twelve hours without feeling her body against his.

Vladimir frowned at her blasé attitude. Didn’t she want to be with him again? It was well established that their hunger for one another was pretty much insatiable...so why would she come to his room to pack his things without asking anything more of him?

“Don’t look at me like that,” the redhead smirked, “It’s a one-time thing. If you’re allowed to worry about me, I can at least do this for you. Don’t worry, I’m not hunting for credit cards or anything. Go back to sleep.”

Like hell he would.

Vladimir raised himself onto his hands and knees, making his way to the foot of the bed to take a pair of socks from Charlotte’s hand and toss them aside. Without any further warning, he yanked her into his arms - and his bed.

The redhead landed on his chest in a mess of limbs with a sharp yelp a moment before his mouth covered hers. Vladimir kissed her until she was breathless, her fingers sliding through his hair in desperation...and then he stopped.

Drawing his head back, he looked up at her flushed cheeks and her gleaming hazel gaze. In another forty-eight hours, they would be back in LA, and this…. well, if there was any chance that it was going to continue, it would become a lot more difficult.

So now, while things were simple, he would have one last night with her. One last night where little mattered but the way she felt in his arms, clenching around him, screaming his name.

He wouldn’t think of LA, of his father or what was expected of him. He wouldn’t think of his brother and Athena, and the desperate, secret feelings the young woman harbored for him. And, most of all, he wouldn’t think of what it meant that Charlotte had come to see him without sex in mind. All of that was far too dangerous when he was mere hours away from returning to a world that threatened to eat him alive.

And so, for once, Vladimir resolved to take his brother’s advice.

And let go.

 

**

Before she left for Russia, three weeks seemed like an eternity to Charlotte. But now that they had gone, she realized just how fast they’d flown by.

She found herself in somewhat of a daze as the car took them to the airport. Next to her, Vladimir was silent and thoughtful. For all intents and purposes, Charlotte should be happy to he headed back to LA. She missed her apartment. She missed Lila and she missed the familiarity of the city.

But she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen between she and Vlad when they returned. Russia had been a little bubble of isolation for them. While they hadn’t been flagrant in their affections, here, at least, they had existed. In the US, where the media was rapid for any scrap of information they could get, Charlotte couldn’t imagine the man - already media wary - being anywhere near as open.

Or, indeed, even risking any scandal at all.

And what scandal could be bigger than sleeping with the lead architect on a groundbreaking project.

To be honest, Charlotte would completely understand if he decided to end things where they stood. They’d had their indulgent little fling and gotten all the wild-fuck out of their systems (at least, theoretically), and now they could go back to being diametrically opposed. Friends with conflicting interests.

But that wasn’t what she wanted. What Charlotte wanted had come to her suddenly and startlingly that morning as she had lain in Vladimir’s arms in their last few hours in bed.

And it frightened her.

Vladimir Kensley was not the kind of man she could ever have seen herself with. He was stern, commanding, and analytical beyond anything she could honestly endure. And yet, here she was, craving him. Casting secret glances at him in the car and wondering if he would ever touch her again. Wanting more.

But the very idea, she knew, was fundamentally flawed. Not only was she the last woman Vladimir Kensley would willingly enter into a relationship with, they were completely incompatible in all the ways that counted. She was artistic, he was numerical. She was a free thinker, he liked everything painstakingly by the book.

It should be enough that she still had a couple of months to see him. To drool over him and maybe resume their daily food adventures. But when those months were over, even those things would be lost to her.

And so would Vladimir.

He had gotten under her skin in the worst way, and the gravity of the admission was enough to make Charlotte’s palms sweat in anxiety. There was no way she could let him find out. The last thing she wanted was for the man to think that she was weak for him when she had only ever shown him a strong face. That was what she needed to deal with a man like Vladimir.

Between them, there was no room for emotional entanglement, so why the hell would she so rudely insert complication?

She wouldn’t. That was the only solution.

Thankfully, a pleasant surprise at the airport distracted her from her thoughts for long enough to grant her a reprieve from her rapidly growing headache. Toshiro and Athena had skipped breakfast to come and see them off, and they were waiting for them at the ticket counter.

“Don’t forget to drop me a message every now and then.” Athena pulled Charlotte into a tight embrace that Charlotte appreciated more than she was willing to admit. She could only pray that, one day, she and Athena met again. She liked the dark-haired girl’s sweet disposition and honest way of speaking.

“Of course. Take care of yourself.” When Athena released her, Charlotte turned to see Toshiro speaking in low tones to Vladimir. They pulled one another into a quick embrace before he turned to her with a handsome smile.

“It was lovely to meet you, Charlotte. I hope that our firm continues to work with innovators like you in the future.” Charlotte took his hand and shook it warmly.

“Thank you, Mr. Kensley. A pleasure to meet you as well.”

“Please, call me Toshiro.” The Japanese man jerked his head in Vladimir’s direction teasingly. “That’s Mr. Kensley. Don’t upset him by giving me the title.”

Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe Vladimir should spend more time with his brother. It would almost certainly improve his mood. Around people like Toshiro, it was hard not to smile.

“Alright, that’s quite enough out of you, Shiro. We have to catch our flight.” Vladimir surprised her when his hand pressed into the small of her back. “Call me when you get to Nairobi.”

“Will do.” Shiro nodded at his brother. Charlotte didn’t miss the discreet look that passed between them as Vladimir hurried her away. They were, indeed, on the cusp of running late for their flight. They weren’t taking a private jet this time, but a commercial airliner.

But that didn’t mean the trip wasn’t luxurious. The company had booked them first class, and Charlotte was astounded to discover the luxury with which one was treated on the upper deck of an A380 jumbo jet.

She knew that she should be preparing for her return to LA and everything that awaited her there, but she found herself entirely too enchanted by the full reclining seats and gourmet menus they’d been provided. Vladimir, of course, was completely absorbed in whatever he was doing on his laptop.

Charlotte told herself that this was just a preview of the way things were going to be once they returned to LA. There was a part of her - a very rebellious part - that wanted to simply ask Vladimir where they stood. That would clear everything up, and there would be no question of how she was supposed to act when they touched down.

But that was something a clingy, emotionally-attached woman would do - and Charlotte maintained that she was neither of those things. So, instead, she merely buried herself in a book, even though she could barely concentrate on the prose. That, she told herself, was better than nothing at all. All her questions would be answered, one way or another, when they returned to LA. That was all she needed to know.

Despite the luxury, the flight back from St. Petersburg was still a long one, and by the time they touched down, all she wanted was to see Lila and pass out in her own bed.

They were the last to deplane, as Vladimir was set on working until he was all but forced off the plane. They had barely reached the gate, however, when one of the attendants pulled both of them aside. Charlotte assumed that it was to warn them that the media were waiting like rapid dogs at the security checkpoint, but she was surprised when the attendant merely handed a phone from the desk to Vladimir.

Who the hell would need to talk to him so badly that they called him at the airport? Certainly, they’d been in the air for a long time, but if it was someone that needed him that badly, surely they would have tried his cell?

Charlotte hauled her carry-on to a nearby seat and sank into it. She knew that she and Vladimir weren’t technically together, but she wasn’t about to abandon him here. Guiltily, she wanted to spend as much time with him as she could before their commitments once again forced them apart.

She was just wondering if he meant to take a car straight to the office - it was still early afternoon here - when a sharp demand echoed through the gate. Its wild tone was enough to make everyone present look in the direction of the main desk, Charlotte included.

But she, unlike everyone else present, knew exactly who had made it.

At the anguished sound, the young woman’s heart leapt into her throat and she turned to see Vladimir clinging to the edge of the desk with a vice like grip. His face had gone deathly pale. Charlotte immediately stood, taking a step towards him.

What the hell was going on? It was completely and totally unlike Vladimir to make a scene...she could only begin to guess who he was on the phone with to incite such a response from him.

“When?” After his initial outburst, however, he lowered his voice. His grip on the counter, however, remained ironclad. “Where? Alright. Yes, alright. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up without another word before turning to the alarmed looking desk attendant. “I need to be on the next flight to New York City.”

“O-of course!” Charlotte didn’t think anyone in their right mind would be able to refuse a man looking as frantic as Vladimir did. “Just give me a moment to reserve your seat.”

By this time, Charlotte had made her way over to the counter as well. Vladimir didn’t even seem to be cognizant of what was going on around him. He was staring at out the window at the planes taxiing in and out of the gate, but she doubted that he was actually seeing any of it. Though she knew she might be overstepping her boundaries, she lay a hand atop his gently. “Vladimir...what happened? Is everything alright?”

He looked down at her, his expression desolate, and didn’t answer her right away. When he did speak, his voice was low and incredulous, with an edge of tension. “My father is sick. I have to get to New York.”

Well she certainly didn’t blame him there. Were it Charlotte’s father, she would have done the very same. It made her stomach twist to imagine just how sick Jackson Kensley must be to prompt this sudden change of events. She only hoped it was nothing life-threatening.

“What do you need me to do?” She found herself asking, doing the best she could to remain level-headed. “I can go to the jobsite and talk to Charlie, tell him what’s happened. I’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

“No.” She was surprised at the vehemence of his answer, her eyes widening. It took Vladimir a moment, but he noticed as well, and he lowered his voice considerably. “I need...That is…. I’d like you to accompany me.”

Charlotte didn’t know what to say.

In all her time working with Vladimir, she didn’t think she’d ever seen him lose his composure. This, certainly, was a loss of composure. She might have thought he’d send her directly to the office, told her to make sure that everything remained on schedule while he was gone. After all, they’d just spent three weeks in Russia. They hadn’t even been on site in LA for almost a month. The project demanded their attention.

But Vladimir obviously wasn’t thinking about that. Instead, he was focused on his father in New York. Though Charlotte knew that it was selfish of her, she couldn’t help but feel a small thrill of pride that Vladimir wanted her with her. It might be against the grain of his character, but she could think of only one reason why he’d want her in New York: and it had nothing to do with work.

Her sensibilities warned her that remaining professional would be the best policy. Even if Vladimir did want her for moral support, their time for intimacy was over. If she went with him to New York, she had no doubt that the media would eat them alive - he just wasn’t thinking straight enough for that to be a factor. Perhaps pointing that out would make him reconsider his decision.

But she wanted to go. Charlotte wanted to be there for him in his time of need...wanted to prove that, perhaps, what she wanted with this man wasn’t as completely outlandish as she might have thought.

If Vladimir needed her, she wasn’t going to refuse him. “Alright.” She answered softly, reaching up to touch his cheek gently. “I’ll go with you.”

Vladimir all but crushed her against the hard panes of his chest, and, to her shock, Charlotte could feel him trembling slightly.

Jesus Christ. What the hell had happened? “Thank you.” His words of gratitude were low and firm, and, within a split second, he’d released her to talk to the assistant about the next flight to the east coast.

It took roughly two minutes for Charlotte’s feelings of self-import to turn to worry. Vladimir wouldn’t be flying back to New York for anything less than an emergency...which meant that Jackson Kensley must be seriously ill. The mere thought was enough to make her stomach twist in apprehension.

Just watching the dark-haired man in Russia was enough to show Charlotte that, even if he opened up to few other people, he held his family in high regard. And anyone who’d ever read a paper or seen a television interview on the Kensley family knew how tightly knit they were.

She could only imagine what Vladimir must be feeling right now. That stoic, commanding presence of his broken down with a single phone call.

While he was getting their tickets, the redhead stepped beyond the gate to make a quick call to Lila.

“Well hello. Haven’t heard from you in ages! Thought you might have gotten lost in Siberia!”

Usually, Charlotte would have appreciated the joke, but just now, she wasn’t in the mood. “Hi, Lila. I’m sorry I haven’t called. Russia was crazy and something...something else has just come up.”

At her tone, Lila immediately sobered. “Charlotte, what’s wrong?”

“Vladimir’s father is sick. We just touched down in LA but he has to go to New York and…” Jesus, how to explain the next part. Though Charlotte had intended to call her friend at least once a week while in St. Petersburg, she had never managed to get around to it. That meant that her sleeping with the man would be news to her roommate. “I’m going with him.”

A beat of silence passed between them, and Charlotte knew that Lila was working out what might have happened in the redhead’s three weeks of silence. Her roommate knew her better than almost anyone, so Charlotte couldn’t imagine that it would take her very long to figure it out. 

Lila exhaled a long breath before answering her. “Ok. Well...call me when you get there. Tell me what’s going on. I’ve been worried about you, Lotte.”

Charlotte smiled fondly. “You always worry, Lila.”

“Yeah, well, that’s my MO. Have a good flight.”

“Thanks, Lila,” Charlotte was reminded how lucky she was to have the younger woman in her life. “I’ll call you as soon as I get a minute to breathe.”

But Charlotte had never imagined that moment would be so long coming. If she thought her three weeks in Russia were a whirlwind, that was nothing compared to the next twenty-four hours. She found that she hardly had room to worry about all the concerns that had plagued her on the way back from St. Petersburg. Before she knew it, they were on a plane bound for John F. Kennedy Airport in New York.

The seats were economy, but Vladimir didn’t utter a single word of complaint. In the five hours that it took to get from LA to New York, he clutched at his armrest so tightly that his wrist went pale. It was hard for Charlotte to watch him so bottled up. Though she’d sensed some tension in him on their way back from St. Petersburg, it had been nothing like this.

This, she thought, was as close as she was ever going to get to seeing Vladimir Kensley genuinely terrified.

Charlotte knew that there was nothing that she could say that would possibly comfort him. Vladimir needed to see his father as soon as possible - which made their five-hour-long plane ride one of the longest of her entire life.

The only thing she could think to do was to reach for his hand. Without even looking at her, Vladimir’s fingers curled around hers so tightly there was an edge of pain in his grip. But Charlotte didn’t complain. Better this than unfettered inner turmoil. If there was any way that she could help comfort him, she would take it.

They reached JFK at around eleven in the evening Eastern Time, and the moment they deplaned, Vladimir was on the phone. For the past five hours, he hadn’t let go of Charlotte’s hand, and he didn’t do so now.

“Which hospital has he been admitted to?” He strode through the airport so fast that Charlotte could barely keep up with him - and there was no stopping at the baggage carousel for their luggage. They were waved through customs within minutes, and the moment they stepped outside, Vladimir had hailed a cab. “I’m on my way. Is he awake? No. No, I just arrived. Give me twenty minutes.” When he hung up, his expression was unreadable.

For only the second time in her life, Charlotte felt absolutely helpless. She wanted to tell Vladimir that everything would be OK, but there was no way for either of them to know that. She wanted to embrace him - hold him close. But Vladimir wasn’t the kind of person that thrived from physical attention in public.

For the time being, all she could do was hold his hand - and hope that was enough.

It dimly occurred to Charlotte that this was her first time in New York. Another time, it might have been something to celebrate - but now, the city lights that winked in the distance inspired no excitement. She had no sense of direction, really, but noticed that they drove away from the huge metropolis rather than towards it. Her perusal of several signs along the highway told her that they were in Long Island - which she knew to be just outside the city.

Close to Vladimir’s family home.

It didn’t even take them twenty full minutes to reach their destination. As if the driver sensed the urgency, he got them there in close to fifteen. They had barely pulled to a stop in front of Winthrop-University hospital before Vladimir was all but throwing money at the man before he yanked Charlotte from the car with him.

He didn’t stop until they made their way past the front desk and up to the fifth floor. Outside a room at the end of the hall, no less than five people were gathered outside. Charlotte recognized them all, in some shape or form, from articles and TV spots that she had seen over the years. There was a lean, blonde man who was almost as pale as Vlad himself, with piercing green eyes - he was the most casually dressed of the bunch, and the youngest Kensley son, Lucas. Standing beside him as a mammoth of a man who towered over even Vlad, ruddy and red-haired with a full beard and almost bursting out of the blue-button up he wore - Alistair, the eldest. Leaning against the wall with an anxious expression was a man dressed in a suit that was far crisper than Vladimir’s after almost twenty-four hours of travel. His deep mahogany curls and full mouth identified him as Ethan - younger than Vlad, but older than Lucas. Next to him was a woman Charlotte didn’t recognize - but she had to be someone of import. She was dressed from head to toe in designer duds, her blonde hair coiled impeccably atop her head. Despite her inherent beauty, her expression matched Ethan’s, and the two stood close enough to touch.

Last, but certainly not least, there was a doctor speaking to all of them. The closer they drew, the clearer her words became.

And Charlotte felt her stomach twist in horror.

“...Stage III. It’s not the worst, but it could be better. He’s been managing his symptoms well - I’m not surprised that none of you knew.”

“What the bloody hell do you mean ‘managing his symptoms?” The doctor had barely finished her sentence before Alistair Kensley butted in with a Scottish brogue almost as huge as he was. “How long has he been sick?”

Next to her, Charlotte felt Vladimir stiffen. He stopped just short of his brothers, listening to the doctor intently. The elder woman took a deep breath before answering Alistair’s question with a surprising amount of aplomb, considering the furious expression of the man confronting her. “I’ve been instructed to let him speak with all of you on that matter.”

“Like hell.” Lucas spoke quietly, but it was enough to make everyone listen. “I want to know everything, and I want to know it now.” When the others nodded their agreement, the doctor adjusted a pair of thick glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“My apologies, but Mr. Kensley had signed a number of medical non-disclosure forms that prevent me from discussing this with you. He’s been awake for the past half an hour, and I’m sure that he’s ready to discuss matters with you himself.”

“What happened?” It was the first-time Vlad had spoken since they left the airport, and, at the sound of his voice, everyone present turned to him. He still hadn’t let go of Charlotte’s hand, and she found her cheeks flushing as she was met with several looks of outright shock.

At least a minute passed before anyone present recovered enough to speak - and Alistair led the charge. “Fucking hell, Vlad. Haven’t seen you in an age.” He moved forward to enfold his brother in a tight embrace, and Charlotte finally moved away, somewhat relieved to be out of the spotlight.

Vlad returned the gesture only limply, and she knew he was intent on information. “Where’s mom?”

“She’s in the room with him,” Lucas piped up, his voice wavering slightly. “He collapsed a few hours ago in the kitchen and she had to call an ambulance.”

“Apparently, Dad’s been hiding something from us,” When Ethan spoke, his tone was both rueful and bitter. “You’d better go in and talk to him.”

They had, Charlotte realized, been waiting for him.

Before she met Vladimir, Charlotte had often wondered why Jackson Kensley hadn’t merely set the line of succession to his company with his eldest son. Why not Alistair? She had found, over the last few months, how much of a natural leader Vladimir was. How easy it was for him to keep his head cool under fire, and work under pressure. He was, she realized, the natural choice - not only for his father, but for his entire family.

“Go on, Vlad.” Ethan urged him in a low tone. “We’ll be right after you.”

Vlad looked to each of them, visibly exhausted and pale - but still unbroken. With a solemn nod, he turned to enter the room.

And Charlotte held her breath.

Chapter 11 - Always By Your Side

 

“Well, Vlad, took you long enough to get here.”

For a long moment, Vladimir simply stood before the hospital door he’d just shut and stared at the sight that met his gaze. His father lie propped up on numerous pillows, his skin a little pale. His smile, however, remained unchanged. His wife sat by his side, clutching his hand, her eyes red from grief.

How the hell could he be smiling? Vlad was caught somewhere between wanting to throttle the older man and wanting to collapse at his bedside. Ultimately, he decided on neither, merely swallowing thickly before he answered. “Father.”

“Come, have a seat, won’t you?” Jackson patted an empty spot next to him on the bed and Vlad reluctantly crossed the room, a torrid mixture of feelings churning in his gut. Briefly, he bent to tug his mother into his arms for a brief hug, noticing that, not once, did she let go of his father’s hand.

Slowly, he sank down next to his father, looking over his familiar face as he tried to drum up his anger. Somehow, try as Vlad might, it wouldn’t come. “How bad is it?”

Jackson sighed, leaning back against his pillows. “Stage III Hepatic Cancer - told me about six or seven months ago. I’ve been doing my best to hit all my treatments, and they tell me I’ve got a good prognosis for a man my age.”

Vlad felt his throat constrict as he clenched at the thin coverlet beneath him with a fist, trying to gather his wits about him. This wasn’t a business deal. It wasn’t a paper he could sign off on or a problem that he could fix with a logical solution. This...this was life; and he was helpless before it. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“My dear boy, why would I?” Jackson patted his son’s shoulder gently. “My sons have a company to run. Lucas has a life to discover...you all have your own paths to tread. There’s nothing to be gained by worrying any of you - especially you, Vladimir. You carry so much on your shoulders already.”

“Is this…” Vladimir forced himself to ask the question, though his chest felt too tight to draw a decent breath, “Is this why you announced your retirement?”

Jackson nodded unabashedly. “The company will run smoothly with you at its head, Vladimir, regardless of what happens to me. The family will run smoothly.”

If Vladimir felt anxious about the passing of the torch before, that was nothing compared to what he felt now. He had always imagined that his father would be present to guide him in the right direction, regardless of his retirement. Now, he had to face the possibility of losing him altogether.

It was a devastating blow. One that he certainly hadn’t been expecting the moment he returned from Russia.

Before he’d gotten the call, Vladimir had quite a lot on his plate already. He meant to get back into the swing of things Stateside and resume his management of the LA building. First and foremost, however, he had planned to speak to Charlotte - to convince her of the futility of their continuing their intimacy once they returned to the city.

He had allowed himself to deviate from his typical beliefs in Russia -  been overcome by the most powerful desire he’d ever known. But things were different back in the US - they had to be different. If he was carrying the mantle of his father’s company on his shoulders, that reputation had to come first...and it certainly wouldn’t be helped by sleeping with the lead architect on his project.

But Vlad had put the conversation off. He meant to have it in the taxi on the way to the airport, and then on the flight itself...but he couldn’t bring himself to start it. While he knew that Charlotte wasn’t the type to throw a tantrum or be unreasonable, he was loathed to retract the comfort they had found in one another.

While they were together, Charlotte reminded him that he wasn’t just in the running to be CEO of a billion-dollar corporation. That he wasn’t just the face of Kensley Enterprises. She was living proof that there were times where he could just be a man...and he didn’t want to give that up.

That was, perhaps, why he’d brought her with him.

At the time, he hadn’t been thinking straight. He had only known what Ethan had told him, and that he hadn’t ever heard his brother sounding so desolate. There wasn’t very much that disturbed Vladimir, but his short conversation with Ethan had been enough to do just that. He hadn’t been able to fathom the idea of going to New York alone.

And so, as selfish as it had been, he brought Charlotte with him.

He was shocked, even now, by the powerful urge to lose himself in her. To block out the pain and uncertainty of the situation he now found himself faced with and pretend, if just for a few hours, that everything was going to be alright.

But he had no way of knowing that.

“Don’t look so glum, Vlad.” Jackson gave him the same benevolent smile that he had for the past twenty-two years, and, embarrassingly, Vlad felt his gut seizing in grief. “I’m not dead yet.”

“That’s not funny, Jackson.” The older man’s wife warbled from his side, still clutching his hand tightly. “I’ll have you know that when you get better, I’m going to pummel the life from you.”

“Of course you will, lovebug.” Jackson turned to smile at her, stroking her hair gently. “I can’t wait.”

Vladimir couldn’t stay here. After rushing three thousand miles to be by his father’s side, the site of him in a hospital bed was almost too much for him. He needed some air. “I’ll tell the others to come in and see you.” He stood abruptly, hating the feeling of helplessness that seemed to grow inside him with each passing moment. “They’ll be happy to see you up and talking.”

“Of course,” Jackson returned, his voice just as calm as it had ever been. The man wasn’t even ruffled by this proof of his mortality, and it was just like him. Infuriatingly like him. “You don’t have to stay, you know, Vlad. I’m alright now, and we can keep you posted just as easily from LA. I know you’re still busy there, and Charlotte-”

“Charlotte is here with me, father,” Vladimir cut him off dully, his chest growing even tighter. “Charlie has handled things for a couple of weeks. He can handle them a while longer. This is...important.” With that, he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Outside, his family was watching him with anxious faces. “You can go in now,” He spoke in a quiet, terse tone. “Did someone call Toshiro?”

“He’s doing all he can to get here,” Lucas answered him. “But his flight’s been delayed. It’ll probably be another twenty-four hours.”

With a stiff nod, Vladimir turned from them, making his way towards the nearest door he could find. It led to a dimly lit staircase and, after several flights, that staircase led to the roof. Outside, the night air was cool and crisp.

He had never wanted a drink so badly in his life.

Thankfully, no one else was on the roof, and Vladimir leaned against the edge of the waist-high brick partition encircling it and drew in a deep, steadying breath.

How had everything gone downhill so quickly? His time in Russia had been idyllic compared to what he had returned to. And now he found himself questioning everything he knew. His father knew he was sick for almost six months before this little incident forced him to reveal himself. What did that mean for the company? What did it mean for their family?

Even he, the staunch workaholic, wanted to stop everything to be by his father’s side, but he knew that he couldn’t. The most he had was a week or two before he would be forced to return to LA - to re-immerse himself in the process that would put him at the head of his father’s company come hell or high water.

Or even his death.

It was hard to even contemplate such a thing - his father dying. Vlad knew he wasn’t a child, and that Jackson Kensley was almost seventy. He had lived a long, full life...but that didn’t mean that his sons and wife were ready to let him go.

He had always judged himself in the efficiency with which he handled every situation thrown at him - there had never been anything that Vladimir Kensley couldn’t handle.

But he had no idea how on earth to tackle this.

After about ten minutes, he heard the door to the roof open and close again and then, Charlotte was by his side. She said nothing, merely leaning against the brickwork with him as the breeze played through her mussed auburn curls. Wordlessly, she reached over to take his hand in hers.

The effect was astounding and instantaneous. The terrifying thoughts that assaulted him, the responsibility that threatened to weigh him down until there was nothing left of him...those things seemed to lessen, somehow. To dim. And all at once, there was nothing but her and him, and the grounding grip of her fingers on his.

A good ten minutes or so passed until she finally spoke with him, and, when she did, she didn’t utter a single word about his father. “I’m going to find a hotel somewhere nearby and bunk down. Call Charlie and make sure he’s got the timeline for the next week or so of construction. Do you want me to stay here for a while?”

He realized, quite suddenly, that no one in his family knew who she was. Only Toshiro had met her, and he was still on his way from Africa. Vladimir hadn’t the wherewithal to introduce her - he was far too absorbed in trying to digest this startling turn of events. In effect, Charlotte had merely stood there and let herself be stared at and speculated on. It must have crossed her mind more than once how selfish he had been to demand that she come with him.

And still, she uttered not a single accusation. She didn’t even demand to know why she was here.

“There’s no need to book a hotel,” He finally managed, his throat oddly thick. “You can call Charlie just as easily from the manor. I’ll make arrangements for you to stay with us.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened a moment before she began to protest. “Vladimir, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to-”

“You’re staying in the manor, Charlotte. Don’t argue...I’m not in the mood.”

And, just like that, she fell silent. As boisterous and difficult as the redhead could be, she knew when to use tact.

It was a skill he had always lacked. “Alright. I still need to call Charlie, though. I’ll give you and your family privacy. Be in the lobby if you need me.” She released his hand to leave and he felt suddenly bereft. Everything came roaring back and Vladimir reached out to take her in his arms and quiet the chaos once more.

When he kissed her, she let him lose himself in the taste of her. He was far from his usual painstakingly groomed self and he needed a showed desperately, but Charlotte didn’t care. She drank from him no less hungrily, and when they finally parted, Vladimir found himself even more reluctant to send her away.

Jesus, the last twenty-four hours had scrambled his brain. He could hardly think in a straight line anymore. The divisions between what he needed and what he wanted were suddenly an amorphous blur that made his gut churn and his head ache.

And there was no reprieve in sight.

Vladimir stayed at the hospital for the next two hours, discussing their plans for the upcoming weeks. Ethan had made sure that everything was being handled in Manhattan so he could stay at the manor as well, and Alistair, despite having come from Texas, told them he could stay as long as he needed to. Vlad didn’t see the need to question the woman who had come with Ethan - the fact that she was there spoke volumes, and this was hardly the time to instigate an interrogation.

She introduced herself as Harper Jones - Athena’s elder sister - and Vlad wondered briefly at the connection.

Their mother didn’t want to leave their father’s side - no surprise there. They arranged to stay at the hospital themselves in short shifts in case there was any change. Once Jackson had talked to each of them, the Doctor seemed to have little problem revealing that he would be in the hospital for at least a month on intensive treatment.

It was intimidating, to say the least - but Lucas volunteered to do whatever he had too. He, unlike the rest of them, had no commitment to the company, which meant that he was the most flexible.

By the time Vladimir finally left the hospital, around four in the morning, he was exhausted. Alistair and Ethan elected to go home with him to rest while Lucas remained with their parents.

There was little to say while they waited for the car to come - but, of course, Alistair was the one to break the silence. After being apart so long, Vladimir had almost forgotten how much his older brother liked to talk.

Almost.

“Where’s your friend, Vlad? The pretty redhead?”

Vlad glanced up at Alistair in warning. “She’s at the Manor. Maria’s getting a room ready for her.”

The red-haired man held his hands up in self-defense. “Hey, calm down. We’re all tired. I’m not going to ask any questions now. Just wanted to know where she’d got to.”

He was too exhausted to be very defensive. Their car arrived in short order and they rode back to the manor in silence. Upon arrival, the three of them shared a very stiff drink before bed, and Vlad did his best to calm the turmoil that raged in his chest.

Cancer.

Cancer had killed Charlotte’s mother over twenty years ago. Perhaps if he talked to her…. but he didn’t want to talk to her about this. It was bad enough that he demanded she be here. There was no need to dredge up old memories...and Vlad wasn’t so sure he really wanted to know what was in store for his father in the coming weeks.

It couldn’t be pretty.

Vladimir showered quickly and readied for bed. It felt strange to be back at home without his father’s presence, and his mind kept returning to the man in the hospital. Jackson Kensley had always been the strongest of them all. He had tamed the rebellious hearts and minds of he and his brothers, earned the love of his headstrong wife...and now he lies in a hospital bed, his survival beyond his control.

Vladimir didn’t get further than slipping into a pair of underwear before he was perched on the edge of the bed. This room had been his since he’d first arrived in America. Though it had long been updated to give it a more adult feel, there were still business club management awards he’d won when he was in high school. The Rubix’s cubes he had lined up as he finished them. And picture after picture of him grinning with his family.

Happy - free. Before the weight of life had crashed down upon him.

Fucking Christ, everything was shot to shit.

He sat there, his head hung, wondering if he would ever be able to sleep - when a soft knock came at his door. Vladimir exhaled a long breath. “I don’t need anything, Maria. I’m fine.”

But then the door was opening, soft as a whisper, and Vladimir looked up, a sharp reprimand on the tip of his tongue.

The moment Charlotte stepped through the doorway, the words died on his tongue. She wore only the same t-shirt that she had the first night he’d come to her, her wild curls spiraling down her back and over her shoulders. When she met his gaze, her own was tentative. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just...I thought you might like company. Just to sleep. No one saw me leave my room….and I can get up early.”

For almost a full minute, Vladimir just stared at her. The silky-smooth lines of her bare legs, the vibrant red of her hair and the vivid almond hue of her eyes...though it had only been a few hours since he’d last seen her, he admitted - though only to himself - that he had missed her. That if there was one good thing at all to come out of this mess, it was that she was still here, with him.

Charlotte ran a hand through her hair, her expression unsure at his prolonged stare. “If you want to be alone, I understand.” Before she could turn to leave, however, Vladimir stopped her with a short protest.

“Come here.” His voice was quiet, but the intensity was enough to stop Charlotte in her tracks. She looked back up at him, hesitating only a moment before she crossed the room to stand before him. Charlotte leaned forward to rest her hands on his knees a moment before she cradled her chin in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Vladimir’s arms encircled her, holding her tightly against him for a long beat before he plucked her from the floor and set her in his lap, straddling muscular thighs. He threaded his hands through her hair as she curled slender fingers into his shoulders and lowered her mouth to his.

But this kiss had none of the frantic, needful insistence of their encounters in Russia. It was slow and thorough, allowing him to fully explore the sweetness of her mouth as he held her tightly against him. She smelled like heaven...she felt right.

Even if everything between them was so inherently wrong.

She shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t need her here, but, somehow, he did.

Why? This was no architecture project...no tour of LA. But it was something that went beyond his realm of understanding. Death, Vladimir knew, was a natural part of life - but he had never stared it in the face like this. If he had known from the start, would he have had the strength to simply overcome it, as he had all obstacles? To accept the odds and fulfill the legacy his father left him?

With Charlotte, none of that was required. Here, now...he didn’t have to be strong. Hell, he didn’t even have to understand her convoluted designs or her confrontational attitude. All he needed was her.

Vladimir gripped the hem of her t-shirt so tightly he almost tore it, tugging it up and over her head. The moment her breasts were bared to him, he tugged a nipple between his teeth, making her shudder as he savored the minute, small bud.

She was already wet and ready for him - as it seemed she perpetually was. Reaching between her slender thighs, Vladimir found her slick lower folds, rubbing back and forth until Charlotte emitted a soft cry of want.

He took the barest moment to free his erection before he was sliding against her, teasing her with the tip of his throbbing member. Vladimir thrust upward just as Charlotte sank down, and a hiss of divine pleasure escaped him. She was tight, hot and mind-blowing, clenching around him like a goddamn vice.

When she was fully seated in his lap, Charlotte kissed him again. His mouth, his forehead, his eyelids...featherlight presses of her lips that aroused him just as much as they reminded him how dangerous this was. How dangerous she was.

But right now, he didn’t care. Buried deep inside her, Vladimir could forget everything and simply live. Wasn’t that enough?

She felt so good that Vladimir was tempted to remain as they were all night - absorbed in the torturous squeeze of her inner muscles around him. But he didn’t have willpower. Ultimately, his hands slid to her hips as he began to undulate his own and Charlotte clung to him, her sounds of pleasure muffled against his throat.

She was like fire...with her brilliant hair and the way she burned him from the inside out. Though she was imperfect she was, in many ways, the perfect woman. Unafraid of him, unintimidated by him...sure of her place in the world and where she was going. Sure of what she wanted both in bed and out.

In a swift movement, Vladimir lay her on her back against the coverlet, settling between her legs. He needed to see her face. Lacing his fingers with hers, he pinned her hands on either side of her head before thrusting deeply. Charlotte bit her lip against the ensuing gasp, even as she tightened around him.

The gaze that met his was strangely vulnerable, her eyes blown wide both in pleasure and... something else. Pity? Intrigue? In the end, it didn’t matter, as long as he was the only one who saw her like this.

Just like this.

Charlotte liked things fast, rough and unhinged - but that wasn’t what Vladimir gave her. He went slowly - se excruciatingly slowly that by the time she came for the first time, the redhead was a quivering, gasping mess beneath him. But Vladimir wanted more. He kept going, his hips rocking rhythmically against her own until she was seizing around him once more, her fingers curling against her palms as she came apart.

Beautiful.

He could have watched her that way for hours...days even...but as she clenched around him more and more tightly, Vladimir lost his composure by inches. Every slide of their bodies against one another brought him closer and closer to his peak.

“Vlad…” When Charlotte moaned his name, arching against him in desperation. “Yes...God yes…”

That was all it took to undo him. Vlad came powerfully, a low groan tearing from his throat as he emptied himself inside her. It seemed to last forever - blinding white completion that stole his breath and threatened his sanity...and then, somehow, he was back. His body lie against Charlotte’s in the dim moonlight and he could hear her heart thundering in her chest.

He had to be crushing her - on good days he was well over two-hundred pounds. But Charlotte merely threaded her fingers through his hair, smoothing the sweat-dampened strands from his forehead.

After a few moments in the dark, she spoke a single sentence, soft and sincere. “I’m glad I came with you.”

Vladimir said nothing, merely cradling his head between her breasts and closing his eyes. There were all manner of things that he wanted to say, but he would regret them all later - when his father was better and all of this was just a bad memory. Soon enough, he told himself, everything would go back to the way it was...and the only regret he would have was that he and Charlotte hadn’t met under circumstances better for them both.

 

**

Charlotte had gone through more hardship in her life than people might know from speaking with her. After her mother had died, she and her father had financial problems that resulted in their temporary eviction. She’d become sullen and withdrawn and once, at the age of eleven, she had briefly contemplated taking her own life.

But she didn’t know if anything had ever hurt as much as watching Vlad hold his family together during this trying period in their life.

It was clear that they turned to him for structure while he himself was struggling to come to terms, and it took everything Charlotte had not to go to him in front of them. That, she reminded herself, wasn’t her place. They were back in the United States and the media was already eating up the story of Jackson Kensley’s illness like a rabid mob. It was disgusting the lengths they would go through to get a story or picture, and Charlotte wasn’t surprised when the security around the manor was doubled in the first three days that she as there.

For her part, she did her best to avoid Vladimir’s family members - and their unanswered questions. But that secrecy couldn’t be maintained for too long. On a Wednesday evening, when it was Vlad’s turn to stay with his father at the hospital, she ran into Alistair going into the library.

Literally ran into him. Charlotte was in search of a distraction - any distraction from the gloom that had settled over the house, and when the housekeeper pointed her in the direction of the library, she jumped at the chance. Unfortunately, it was already occupied. She slammed into Alistair with the force of a small freighter and nearly toppled over.

“Whoa there!” His heavy brogue rang out a moment before he caught her by both wrists and hauled her upright. “You alright?”

“Jesus, Alistair. You scared the shit out of me.”

The man’s hair wasn’t quite as vibrant as her own, but he more than qualified as a ginger. Arching one auburn brow, he eyed her in inquiry. “How is it that you know my name, but I don’t know yours?”

Charlotte couldn’t help a small smile at that. “Well, you’ve been on a lot of TV programs. The Kensleys have rather unmistakable faces at this point...except for Vlad.” He was the only son that neglected to appear in almost every special about the Kensleys that had ever been filmed. It was no wonder she hadn’t recognized him in the airport when they first met.

Alistair chuckled softly. “You have a point there, I suppose.”

Charlotte took the opportunity to extend a hand. “I’m Charlotte Gardner. Nice to properly meet you.”

“Gardner?” Alistair took her hand to shake, his expression pensive. “Not the architect that designed for LA and Russia?”

“The same.” She nodded, hoping that he didn’t probe much further.

But this was Alistair Kensley they were talking about - a man infamous for his boisterous, curious demeanor. She might as well have hoped to see a flying pig. “And you’re here to...bring the work to him?”

“Something like that.” It was the most diplomatic answer she could come up with on the spot - and Alistair clearly wasn’t buying it.

“I’d hope that Vlad wouldn’t still be thinking about work with Dad in the fucking hospital,” he challenged lowly - and though he hadn’t threatened her - hadn’t even taken a step towards her, Charlotte found herself backing away. The man was simply massive - ruddy and completely overwhelming.

“Alistair, leave her alone, for God’s sake.”

Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief when Toshiro appeared. He had arrived just twelve hours after his brother and, though as somber as the rest of his family, at least Charlotte didn’t have to worry about having to explain her position to him. He knew what was going on between her and Vladimir - or, at the very least, he had an idea.

“Jesus, Shiro, you come out of the fucking woodwork.” Alistair raked a hand through his hair before casting Charlotte one final glance. “I’m just saying...if she came here as moral support for Vlad, shouldn’t she be at the hospit-”

“She’s here because Vlad needs time alone with Dad,” Toshiro cut him off curtly, his expression stern. “Speaking of, wasn’t Lucas looking for you to help him with the cooking?” At the very prospect, Alistair groaned.

“I’m going to poison the lot of you - just watch.”

“Yes, well, okaa-san isn’t here, so man up.” Alistair cast him a dirty look before striding off down the hall - and Charlotte finally allowed herself to relax.

“Sorry about that,” Toshiro sighed, shaking his head. It was the first time Charlotte had ever seen him in anything other than a suit, and she thought the floor-length robe he wore fit him. At the very least, it was reminiscent of his Japanese ancestry. “He’s the oldest and the most stubborn.”

Charlotte offered him a small smile. “Yeah, I bet he and Vlad butted heads for that title.”

“You’d be surprised,” Shiro returned wryly, glancing down the hall after his brother to make sure he wasn’t shirking his duties. As Shiro was the only Kensley she could really talk to, Charlotte decided to bite the bullet and try to get an update. Vladimir didn’t want to talk about his father’s condition - when he was at the manor he buried himself in work, and, at night, in her. Though Charlotte found herself slightly perturbed that he wouldn’t let himself even grieve properly, she understood.

She had been where he was, once. “How’s he doing, Shiro?”

The Japanese man frowned, his expression sobering. “They’re putting him through chemo every other day but he’s handling it as well as can be expected. Trying to boost the treatment because he went so long without...but he’s a tough one. If anyone can make it through this, it’s him.”

Shiro, like his brothers, looked as if he had aged in the past few days. Perhaps it was more apparent with the Japanese man because his face was familiar to Charlotte but he seemed particularly tired...as if all the life had been sapped out of him.

It was then that Charlotte realized that the Japanese man had arrived at the manor alone. “Where’s Athena?” The question was out before she could even stop it, and instantly, the Japanese man’s expression darkened.

“Gone.” He exhaled a long breath before turning to leave her standing there, wondering how on earth the world had so quickly gone to hell in a handbasket.

It was a morose few days. Charlotte spent the majority of her time in her room, hoping she didn’t get asked too many questions and simultaneously fighting the creeping sense of resentment that began to prickle at her. She knew that she had no right to feel as she did when Vladimir was having such a difficult time...but she had come all this way to be with him and now she was hiding away.

These were all grown men - with the exception of Harper Jones, who had come with Ethan, and was the only other woman. Harper didn’t hide. Though she and Ethan weren’t all over one another, it was clear that she had come to support him - and anyone with a brain would surmise the same about Vladimir.

He’d been holding her hand the day he arrived, for God’s sake. If that wasn’t a giveaway, she didn’t know what was. In many ways, Charlotte felt like his dirty little secret - and it wasn’t a very nice feeling.

She did what work she could to distract herself from it, speaking to Charlie daily for hours on end to make sure the building was going according to schedule. He sent he literally reams of pictures, and from what Charlotte could see, the structure was rapidly taking its unique shape. Though she was just as worried about Jackson Kensley as any of his family, she sometimes found herself wishing she had stayed in LA. Better that than lying next to Vladimir at night after he’d made love to her, wondering how much longer he was going to need her.

When he suddenly wouldn’t.

Her thoughts were awful and guilty, but Charlotte simply couldn’t escape them.

So she did the next best thing - she called Lila.

“Charlotte,” Her friend answered her in a serious tone, “Dear God, I saw what happened on the news. Is everything ok?”

A weak laugh escaped the redhead. “If by ‘ok’ you mean all the Kensley brother’s suicidal, their father in the hospital and their mother crying her eyes out then, yeah, they’re peachy.”

Lila groaned. “Jesus, that bad.”

Charlotte ran a hand through her tangled curls. “It’s Stage III Hepatic Cancer, but they’re doing all they can for him. They’re saying the fact that he’s been pretty healthy for so long without chemo has to be a good sign.”

There was a momentary pause before Lila replied, her tone somewhat cautious. “And Vlad? How’s he taking it?”

Charlotte’s eyes slid closed as she thought of the way the Russian man stared at the ceiling every night after he made love to with torturous deliberation. “Probably worse than any of them. They look to him, you know. He’s supposed to be the next CEO...but none of them imagined it would be like this.”

“Of course not,” Lila replied, the very notion blasphemy. “No one could have predicted this.”

“Vlad is hard on himself. Says he might have noticed something sooner if he paid more attention.”

Charlotte’s comment garnered outrage from her roommate. “How the hell could he have done that? He’s been away for six months. Christ, this man is a nutcase.”

“I love him.”

Charlotte uttered the words so softly that she herself could hardly hear them. But she was talking to Lila - and Lila had known her better than almost anyone. The blonde was silent for almost a full minute before she responded. “Oh, Charlotte.”

“I know,” The redhead returned on a groan that was embarrassingly on the edge of tears. “I’m so stupid. So fucking idiotic. How could I have let this happen?” She took a steadying breath, swallowing the lump in his throat. “It’s like I’m his dirty secret here...I stay in the room all day and I avoid his family so I don’t have to talk to them and explain what’s going on between us…. God, Lila, I’m so selfish. So goddamn selfish.”

Despite everything she had fought against - despite their rocky beginning and the fact that Vladimir Kensley was the antithesis of everything she thought she wanted in a man, here she was. Helplessly head over heels for him. Simultaneously wanting to cuff him for treating her like chattel and hold him in her arms to comfort him. For others, Vladimir was strong. So strong...but his weakness was that he refused to let other people in - even those closest to him.

“You have to tell him, Lotte.”

This time, when Charlotte laughed, the sound was scathing and incredulous. “Are you out of your mind? This is the absolute worst time to bring something like that into the mix!”

“And it might be exactly what he needs,” Lila explained calmly, ever-rational. “He’s clinging to you, Lotte, because neither of you have talked about your feelings. As far as he’s concerned, what’s between you could end any day. Telling him something like this is a gamble, yes, but would it really be so bad to reassure him that you’re not going anywhere when he needs you most?”

Jesus. Jesus.

There was no way. None. The man would eat her alive - and not in the way she liked. His family would eat her alive for daring broach something like this when their lives were in such chaos.

But...Lila was right. The prospect was as terrifying as anything Charlotte had ever contemplated, but she couldn’t deny it.

If she didn’t tell Vladimir how she felt now, when would she ever get another opportunity? They only had a few more days before they had to go back to LA, and God knew what would happen then. Or, heaven forbid, his father got worse and…

God. This was such a mess. “Lila...I... I don’t know if I can.”

Charlotte heard a sound that might have been her friend standing up. “The Lotte I know can do anything she wants. Graduate from a school that’s constantly cutting her down. Make her way in a firm that’s stifling her. Land one of the most momentous architecture contracts of the last decade.

“Charlotte, if you can do all that...you can certainly do this.”

The redhead bit her lip so hard she almost drew blood.

How was it that Lila always knew exactly what to say to her?

Shutting her eyes tightly, the redhead spoke in a hushed tone. “God, I love you, Lila.”

“I love you too. Now...go do what you need to do.”

 

Getting out of the house was easy enough. Though Charlotte hated to interrupt Shiro when he as obviously dealing with some major shit, he got her a car to the hospital when she asked for one.

She had no idea how she was going to go about this. Though Charlotte had been with men before - even believed herself infatuated - she had never felt like this. She didn’t know how to explain this...much less in a way that someone like Vladimir would understand.

If there was one aspect of the man that Charlotte absolutely understood, it was the reluctance to let anyone see where you were vulnerable. And she was about to do just that

She was absolutely terrified.

The twenty minute drive to the hospital seemed to take less than twenty seconds, and, all at once, she was walking through the double doors, heading towards the treatment ward where they were administering to Jackson Kensley. By the time she reached the fifth floor, she could hear little else over the pounding of her own heart in her ears.

The hall outside Jackson’s room was empty, so she stepped up to the glass pane of his door to peek inside.

Vladimir wasn’t there either. The only people inside were Jackson himself and his wife Olivia. Charlotte noticed ruefully that the man appeared much thinner and paler than he had mere days ago. The treatment was obviously taking its toll on him.

She wondered if his wife had ever let go of his hand. Olivia hadn’t come home since Jackson collapsed, and she looked just as haggard as her husband.  However, unlike Olivia, Jackson, incredibly, was still smiling. It wasn’t as wide, or as robust, but it was still just as genuine as those he wore when she saw him in commercials on TV. 

For a long moment, she stared at the scene before her. She wasn’t the praying type, but in that moment, she prayed with every fiber of her being that Jackson Kensley would pull through. If anyone could do it, it was the man who had built an empire out of nothing.

In the midst of her clumsy prayer, the man in the window turned to look right back at her. Charlotte inhaled sharply, ducking away from the window guiltily. The last thing she needed was for Jackson Kensley to think that she was spying on him and his family. She had little business here in the first place. He had hired her for architecture, and now she was moments away from prostrating herself at his son’s feet.

“Charlotte.”

At the sound of her name, muffled, through the door, the young woman winced. She’d been discovered.

“Charlotte?” The voice came again, and the young woman hoped in vain that perhaps he would think he’d just imagined her. But today simply wasn’t her day. “Please come in, Charlotte.”

She couldn’t very well refuse him. Taking a deep breath, Charlotte straightened, wishing she were wearing something more flattering than her yoga pants and hoodie for her first meeting with the man who had changed her life. She did her best to smooth stray strands of hair from her brow and then, bracing herself, she opened the door to step into the room.

It was very quiet inside. Once she closed the door behind her, almost completely silent. Charlotte met the gazes of both Jackson and his wife, trying to remember how to breathe as her cheeks burned. “Mister and Mrs. Kensley...I apologize I was just...I was looking for Vladimir. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing us.” To her surprise, Jackson’s smile, ever-benevolent, never faltered. “Come over here, my girl. Look how you’ve grown.”

A lump rose in her throat with alarming speed, and Charlotte found her vision blurring. She couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t cry.

Jackson gestured for her to sit down on the edge of his bed, and Charlotte found herself obeying automatically. The man gave her a slow once over, his smile warming even further. “Trevor was right. You look just like your mother.”

A sob rose in Charlotte’s throat. She couldn’t help it. This man had known her parents before she was born...known her mother for far longer than she had. The things she could ask him… “Her hair was just as wild. Nothing Beth did could tame it.” Jackson reached out to tug on a vibrant curl gently. “And now, here you are. Making your way up in the world.”

That certainly didn’t feel like what she was doing at the moment. What it felt like she was doing was attaching her heart to her sleeve, ripe for anyone feeling particularly malicious.

“Olivia, this is Trevor and Beth’s daughter,” Jackson didn’t seem to mind the tears spilling down the young woman’s cheeks. “She’s incredibly talented. The LA building is doing splendidly and Dansk can’t stop gushing about St. Petersburg. They’re already talking Berlin.”

Berlin? The prospect was enough to take her breath away - but not as much as the warmth of Olivia’s eyes. From her wan face, they shone brightly, and her smile was genuine. “I can see so much of Beth in you, sweetheart. Thank you for coming.”

Jackson turned to his wife briefly to place his free hand over hers, drawing her knuckled to his mouth to kiss. “My heart, will you give us just a moment. There are a few things Charlotte and I have to discuss.”

If Olivia was surprised, she hid it well. With obvious reluctance, she stood, leaning over her husband to kiss his forehead before letting his hand slide from hers. “Call me if you need anything.”

With that, she glanced at Charlotte as if telling her the same before stepping from the room. Once she had, Jackson sighed, stretching before he settled into position once more. “I love her to death, but I personally think they’re all on the tombstone bandwagon. I hope you have more faith in me than that, Charlotte.”

He winked winningly and Charlotte let out a watery laugh. How on earth could he joke about this? He was deathly ill. At this point, he was more likely to die from the treatment than he was to get better. And yet, Jackson Kensley still smiled. “Of course, sir.”

“Now, Charlotte,” Jackson took her hand between his weathered ones, his grip surprisingly strong. “From what I hear, you’re not the teary type. Don’t cry for an old man. Struggle is part of life. If it’s my time, it’s my time. I’ll go happily knowing I’ve provided for my sons and all those I’ve left behind.”

His sons.

Vladimir.

All at once, guilt overwhelmed her. She hadn’t come here to draw a weakened Jackson into idle conversation, she’d come for his son. The son she had absolutely no right to. “Charlotte.” When she hung her head, Jackson’s low murmur recaptured her attention. “Do you know why I chose your particular brand of artistry for my new projects?”

Slowly, Charlotte shook her head. When she had first been hired, she thought she had all the answers. Kensley Enterprises was innovating. They were branching out and changing their image...but once she met Vladimir, everything got a little fuzzy.

“There are times in our lives,” Jackson told her softly, “Where we must choose between what works, and the chance to make it work better. You have taken risks all your life. The death of your mother only made you stronger and you have challenged anyone who has dare stood in your way.” He chuckled softly, as if the mental image itself amused him. “Since coming here, my Vladimir has faced little opposition. He excelled at everything put in front of him. He’s a perfectionist - harder on himself than I could ever be. The one thing I could never teach him was how to enjoy himself.”

That certainly sounded like Vladimir. “So, tell me, my dear,” Jackson inquired lightly, “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?”

She swallowed thickly, her chest so tight that she could barely breathe. “I don’t know.”

Jackson laughed softly. “Don’t you?”

But that couldn’t…. he couldn’t… “Charlotte, you are an incredibly talented artist. Even if Vladimir wasn’t part of the equation, your designs stood out to me. But I hope you’ll forgive an old man his desire to see his sons happy...and Vladimir...well, you can deal with him far better than I ever could.”

Charlotte forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath. “Where is he?”

Jackson nodded his head in the direction of the doorway. “He left about half an hour ago - to get some air, no doubt. He doesn’t like dealing with what he can’t control...and he certainly can’t control this.”

Charlotte looked into Jackson Kensley’s bright green eyes. Vladimir might be adopted, but she saw the same resilience in his gaze. He could only have learned it from his father. “Go reign in my pigheaded son, Little Lotte.” Jackson cupped her chin in his palm. “He needs you.”

It was a lot easier said than done.

Charlotte left Jackson wanting to know more - wanting to know everything. But, hopefully, there would be a time for all that. She took the stairs to the roof two at a time, going so fast that by the time she finally burst into the evening air, she was breathless.

Vladimir stood at the edge of the rooftop, staring out over the highway below. He whirled at her sudden appearance, his expression tightening a moment before faint surprise showed on it. “Charlotte. What are you doing here?”

The young woman gathered every iota of courage she possessed before taking a step towards him. “Vladimir...I have something I need to talk to you about.”

The dark-haired man rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin - he hadn’t shaved in days and Charlotte was torn. He looked as deliciously rugged as he did haggard. “Is there any way it can wait until tonight? I have a few hours left with father, and then I have some work to get done-”

“Vladimir, I’m in love with you.”

The man went utterly motionless. His eyes widening in shock. That couldn’t be a good sign, but Charlotte found herself forging on relentlessly. “I know I have the shittiest timing ever, and that we haven’t known one another for that long. That you don’t understand why I am the way I am and I don’t understand you...but I’m willing to accept that. Work on it, even.” By this point, only about three feet of space remained between them. “I just...I can’t stand seeing you in pain, and I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. This doesn’t have to end. I just... I want to be here for you, in whatever way you may need me.”

Vladimir’s expression was somewhere between grief and incredulity, and even as he opened his mouth to answer her, she beat him to the punch. “I’m not asking for some grandiose profession from you. That’s not what I want. We’re adults, remember?” Her gut twisted and she forced the lump that rose in her throat back down where it belonged. “I just...I don’t want there to be any question. If I’m staying with you, it’s not because of physical chemistry. It’s not because you’re my boss and I feel obligated. It’s because of you. I want you. I love-”

Vladimir covered her mouth with two fingers, his eyes searching hers. All the shock had melted away and now there was only confusion with an edge of pain. For a long moment, he contemplated her, and she him.

And then he spoke. “I have a lot on my plate right now. Some days it’s a struggle to just keep my thoughts straight and I can’t...I just...not now. I can’t say what will happen a month from now...or a year. But right now…”

Before he could finish, Charlotte was enfolding him in her embrace, pressing as close as she could to indulge in his scent and the feel of his body against hers. “That’s fine.” She reassured him, breathing the words low against his chest. “That’s fine.”

And, somehow, it was.

It wasn’t a no...and No was what she most feared. Not now was different. She could wait. Charlotte had waited all her life.

All at once, Vladimir’s hands were cupping her face, turning it upward so that his mouth could cover hers. His kiss was hungry, desperate - as if he feared she’d evaporate into thin air.

But Charlotte wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

 

Chapter 12 - Mistakes

 

A week and a half of treatment left Jackson Kensley completely undaunted. Weak, queasy and tired, but he was still going strong. Doctors revealed that he was responding about as well as they might have hoped, and so, Vladimir began the preparations to head back to LA.

There was nothing more he could do. If need be, he could be on a plane back to New York with thirty minutes notice; and besides that...he wouldn’t be alone in LA.

Charlotte would be with him. Not only as his colleague, or as an architect...but as his woman.

Frankly, Vladimir’s mind was still blown by her admission. Charlotte always shot from the hip, her conversation quick and to the point. But for her to tell him that she loved him…

After all he had done, he hardly deserved it. He had questioned her as an artist. Taken advantage of her, forced her to hide what was between them. But when they returned to LA, that would all change.

It was an intimidating prospect.

Vladimir had never enjoyed dealing with the media, and he could only imagine what might happen when they got wind of what was going on with Charlotte. They would have a goddamn field day and he...he had no idea how well he could cope. Since his father had been hospitalized, his temper seemed on a razor-sharp edge. There was a part of him that worried that he’d do something reproachable - get physical with a reporter that said the wrong thing…

But he had to trust in himself.

It was something Charlotte was trying to teach him - and Vladimir knew that it would be a slow uphill battle...but it just might be possible with her along to urge him on.

Charlotte was brash, demanding and outlandish, but she had also never left his side when he needed her most. She let him into her bed, into her mind, and now, she let him into her heart - even if he hardly knew how his own operated.

Love...what was love? He had thought that Toshiro might be in love with Athena, but the two had obviously had a falling out. Perhaps the end date that Athena had hinted at finally came, and Toshiro hadn’t been ready. Or perhaps it had been something much worse.

Either way, Vladimir knew there would be no declarations from him until he was absolutely sure.

It was a daunting prospect...but he knew Charlotte would wait. She promised him that she would...and calmed him, like she always had.

Despite the profession that she would never pack his bags again, she was doing it now. The redhead had dragged her suitcase into his room to begin packing for both of them. Vladimir was due for his last few hours for his father, but he had managed to wheedle her into his bed for a lingering lovemaking session that had only reminded him how much he owed Charlotte.

How much she had done for him.

He left her dazed, promising to finish packing as he made his last trip to the hospital. For the entire drive, Vladimir attempted positive thinking. His father had fared well with the treatment so far. Who was to say that he wouldn't continue to do well. He would have their mother by his side, and Ethan and Lucas. Alistair was returning to Texas, but he promised to return at the drop of a hat.

Toshiro, still quiet and sullen, was due in London in three days for a series of meetings. And so, life resumed, with them all dancing on the edge of a knife...waiting.

When he arrived at the hospital, there were no less than fifty reporters waiting outside. The very sight of them raised Vladimir’s ire. Ever since news of his father’s illness, reporters had seemed to follow the Kensleys wherever they went. The supermarket, the gas station...they had even attempted several times to get onto the manor grounds. They were completely and totally unorthodox, and if his family’s image wasn’t on the line, Vladimir might very well give them a piece of his mind.

Anger had burned away all reluctance, and he found himself biting his tongue as he fought his way through them, refusing to answer even a single question. When he reached the hospital lobby, however, everything finally fell quiet once more.

The only sound was the news droning in the background, on several TVs around the lobby space.

Their family had ceased signing in after the second day of their father’s stay, and Vladimir strode past the front desk. As he did so, the nurses there whispered furiously beneath their breaths, prompting a look back over his shoulder in confusion. One would think that, by this point, they’d be used to Kensleys coming in and out. There was no need to lose their heads.

There was some maintenance being done in the stairwell so, for once, Vladimir elected to take the elevator. While he was in the elevator, the furtive whispering continued. He noticed, then, that it came from not only the nurses at the front desk, but also a few working in the halls. The very sight of him sent them into an uproar. Frowning, he stepped into the elevator the moment it arrived.

If his presence was beginning to rile up the hospital staff so much, maybe it was a good thing that he was leaving. In LA, he could find a semblance of peace in his work. At least, he would until news of he and Charlotte hit the media outlets.

There was a selfish, self-preserving part of him that was tempted to ask Charlotte if there was any way she might be willing to keep their romance under wraps for just a little while longer - though not with his family. If he just had time to prepare, he was sure that he could come up with a way to temper the incoming storm.

When Vladimir arrived on the fifth floor, the first thing to catch his attention was Doctor Banyan’s blatant glare. The middle-aged woman was in charge of his father’s treatment, and, up until that point, she had never acted in any manner less than amicable. But now, there was no other way to describe the look in her eye besides cold anger.

Vladimir arched a brow in confusion. “Doctor Banyan, is there some issue here?”

The doctor didn’t even answer him. Instead, she turned her nose up, yanking a clipboard from the counter and marched down the hall and out of sight.

What the almighty hell?

His scowl only deepening, Vladimir turned down the opposite hall to head for his father’s room. In the five or so meters that he travelled, he met the incensed gazes of another three nurses. The expressions on their faces were no less than absolutely malicious, and he found himself wondering how on earth he had displeased them. He had barely even spoken to any of them.

His expression perplexed, he knocked briefly on his father’s door before entering. When he stepped inside, however, he was surprised to see both his parents’ anxious faces staring up at him. For once, his mother wasn’t by his father’s side. Instead, she stood in the middle of the room, before the TV mounted on the wall. The moment Vladimir set foot inside the room, she switched the television off with a guilty expression, as if she’d been caught in an act she shouldn’t. “Vladimir!” The pleased surprise in her voice was strange, and Vladimir found himself looking from her to his father and then back again.

While Olivia Kensley looked more nervous, Jackson’s expression was one of outright disgust.

What the hell was going on here. “Dad...Mom...what’s going on?” He inquired, glancing at the still buzzing TV. “What were you watching?”

“Nothing!” His mother hurried to reassure him. When she smiled, the gesture was so false that it made his stomach turn. “Nothing at all, honey. Have you come to say goodbye to your father?” When she came to him Vladimir hugged her, but only errantly. After kissing her cheek, he turned his gaze to his father.

“Dad...what’s going on here?”

Jackson Kensley’s brow furrowed. “Nothing you need to worry about, Vladimir. It’s just nonsense.”

“What kind of nonsense?” Did it have something to do with the staff and how they were looking at him?

“Exactly what your father said, Vlad. Rude, vicious rumors...there’s no need to put stock in any of it-” but before she had finished her statement, Vlad used lightning reflexes to snatch the remote from her grip and switch the TV back on.

The featured news story was enough to make his eyes widen in horror as his heart dropped into his stomach.

“With billionaire mogul Jackson Kensley hospitalized with stage III cancer, the responsibilities of one of the most influential companies in the world fall on the shoulders of his adopted son, thirty-five-year-old Vladimir Kensley. Vladimir, notoriously camera shy, has taken some time off from caring from his father to become involved in a steamy affair with up and coming west-coast architect Charlotte Gardner.”

A series of blurry pictures of the two of them flashed on screen. While the quality was questionable, there was no doubt that it was Vladimir and Charlotte. Up on the roof, locked in an embrace, through the window of the Kensley Mansion, wrapped up together on a sofa...and then, a picture of Vladimir arriving with Charlotte at the airport, clutching her hand in a vice like grip.

“Several news outlets are questioning the timing of this star-crossed love affair. Charlotte Gardner, a talented but controversial name in her field, recently landed not only one, but two huge contracts designing for Kensley Enterprises. A number of sources suggest that she is exploiting the least media savvy of the Kensley sons for a bid in their empire.

“Whether or not she and Kensley are a genuine item, along with the validity of her hire, remain in question. The timing, however, seems incredibly convenient - and it appears there is quite a good reason why Vladimir Kensley has wished to hide from the spotlight.” Two juxtaposing images appeared on screen - one taken of Jackson Kensley in his bed - how a reporter had gotten it was anyone’s guest. The other showed Vladimir on the hospital roof locked in Charlotte’s embrace.

It took less than five seconds for Vladimir to put everything together.

They were implying that he neglected his father in favor of Charlotte. That he was too wrapped up in her to space Jackson Kensley the time of day. Atop that...they were all but ramming the idea of Charlotte as an exploiter down the throats of anyone who would watch. It was infuriating and disgusting all at once.

And it was the reason why everyone in the hospital thought that he was the spawn of Satan.

“I just can’t believe his own son would do that to him,” The reporter was now interviewing God knew who - a random stranger eager to let his opinion be known, “The man adopted him and groomed him to be one of the most powerful man in the world, and now he jumps dumps him for some poontang.”

“Personally, I think the girl’s a mess. This Charlotte girl.” Then it was a blonde with a hairline ten shades darker than her bleached blonde locks. “Working on the Kensleys like that. She’s got some damn nerve pulling something like that in their time of need-”

Vladimir switched the TV off. He couldn’t stand to hear anymore.

For at least a full minute, terse silence reigned in the room. Jackson Kensley was the one who finally broke it with a deep clearing of his throat. “Complete and utter nonsense. They’re just pissed because we didn’t throw them a bone.”

But Vladimir was hardly listening. He might be a new hat when it came to dealing with the media, but he knew how to recognize his family’s name being drawn through the mud. Charlotte’s name being drawn through the mud.

It was a shit story, and it was nasty as hell - but the ramifications were staggering. This was one of the major news outlets. People all over the country were seeing this. Seeing him for the first time.

He had to do something.

Turning on his heel, Vladimir strode for the door. “Vladimir, where are you going?” His mother demanded, grabbing for his sleeve desperately.

“To talk some sense into them,” her son replied flatly, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Vladimir ignored the disapproving stares of the hospital staff. He didn’t know which was worse - that the media would actually pull a stunt like this, or that people as reputable as doctors and nurses would believe it. He took the elevator to the first floor and made a beeline for the front entryway, both outrage and anger driving his steps.

Once he stepped from the building, a hundred cameras were on him - fifty microphones, all hanging on his every word.

Well, he would give them something to listen to.

“Mr. Kensley, what do you have to say about the current allegations?”

“There’s been news that Charlotte Gardner is carrying your child. Can you confirm or deny these rumors?”

“Is it true that you’ve been using the Kensley Manor as a romantic getaway in your father’s absence?”

 

“Listen to me, all of you.” Vladimir cut them off with a sharp sentence that silenced every last reporter. The cameras, however, kept rolling as he made his statement. “All of these vile rumors are just that: rumors. If there is anyone who is exploiting my family and infringing on their privacy, it is the party that took these images and anyone who perpetuates this nonsense.”

For having never given a public statement before, he’d say that he was doing pretty good. The reporters had the good sense to be taken aback, and a few even appeared downright ashamed.

But there were others, still, who were undaunted. “So none of it’s true?” A plucky brunette with crimson lips nudged him, her eyes bright. “Absolutely none?”

Vladimir scowled deeply at her prodding. “Charlotte Gardner is a well vetted member of the architectural community. There has never been even the slightest hint of foul play in her being hired to help us move the construction of our buildings into a new age.”

“And I suppose the fact that she’s a friend of the family has nothing to do with her getting hired?” This time is was a middle-aged graying man with a smarmy demeanor that Vladimir instantly disliked. “I have a source that says she’s the daughter of Trevor Gardner, who has known your father since they were boys.”

Vladimir faltered somewhat. It was no new information for him - but how was he supposed to explain the situation to someone desperate to see it in the wrong light.

“My father hasn’t interacted with Charlotte Gardner until recently - the selection for the projects was made on blind submissions for the projects.”

That seemed to stump the man, and Vladimir chocked up another win. For all his father and brothers blustered about the evils of reporters, they didn’t seem half so dangerous as they believed once you confronted them. Perhaps there was a chance that this would all be cleared up by morning.

“What about the pictures of you with Charlotte Gardner?” At another inquire from the brunette, Vladimir felt himself stiffen. “Are the two of you not an item? You seem to be pretty friendly for colleagues. And you were definitely placed being intimate several times on the roof of this very hospital, while your father receives chemotherapy treatments. A fine time to be getting cozy with a fling, Mr. Kensley.”

Al at once, his mind went blank.

There was no lie to dismiss here, no way that he could reword things. If Vladimir let this woman’s incriminating statement stand, he would be painted as a villain. Opinions on Charlotte wouldn’t change because, when it came down to it, they were doing the dirty while his father was languishing in bed. It was the first time he felt guilt churning in his gut, and Vladimir was certain that it wouldn’t be the last...but this...this was in front of fifty cameras. Rabid reporters who were hanging on his every word, ready to crucify him.

This was not his playing field at all, and suddenly, he wasn’t sure how to turn things back in his favor.

His reaction was automatic and self-preserving - the words came to him unbidden. “Miss Gardner and I are not together.”

Cameras flashed and a veritable shudder of excitement seems to pass through the crowd. “She’s a valued subordinate, and there were times where my father’s state took an emotional toll on the both of us...However, going forward, we will remain professional in all aspects. My father’s treatment is going well, and I hope to hear only good news of him after my return to Los Angeles.”

Thankfully, as if sensing his distress, a car pulled for him at that exact moment. “I have no further comments,” he managed, before bolting for the safety of the Mercedes and locking himself in. The moment the car peeled off from the curb, the dark-haired man set about forcing him to relax.

Jesus Christ that experience made it onto his list of the top worst things that had ever happened to him. The reporters were monsters - they seemed ready to believe anything anyone threw at them.

He would, Vladimir realized, have to come back and say a proper goodbye to his father. He would go back to the manor for a while and let the reporters chew on the information he’d given. If he was lucky, they would disperse and he’d return at some ungodly hour when they would have all gone.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled a long breath.

He supposed it could have gone worse.

 

**

Charlotte stared at the TV, openmouthed. She didn’t even know why she had turned it on - a whim, really. Some background noise while she packed. She had never really been a fan of stolid silence.

It was a flash of a familiar face that made her stop on a national news channel.

And then the words from his mouth.

She’s a valued subordinate, and there were times where my father’s state took an emotional toll on the both of us...However, going forward, we will remain professional in all aspects. My father’s treatment is going well, and I hope to hear only good news of him after my return to Los Angeles.

Not even an equal. A subordinate.

Charlotte felt sick to her stomach. Was that what Vladimir believed? Really believed? That they had just fallen into one another’s arms in comfort? What happened in Russia? What happened before then?

They were going to remain professional. She knew what that meant well enough. It meant hiding. It meant not touching the man she loved when there was even a single person looking because she was the dirty secret.

Had he simply been lying when he told her he planned to out them in LA? Was it a ploy to get her to let him stifle her all over again? Was he ashamed of her? Didn’t like her temper? Wanted her to be some hoity-toity debutante he could take to fancy parties and show off?

Dear God she was such a fool.

Charlotte was clutching at a pair of Vladimir’s slacks so hard she rent the material. The faint sound of tearing cotton brought her back to the real world, and she tried her best to keep her head from swimming. To keep anger and despair from overwhelming her.

Dropping the clothes she held, Charlotte rose to step from the room. Air. She needed air.

She made her way unsteadily to the main entryway, headed for the kitchen terrace. When she was in the middle of the hallway, the outside motion sensor lights clicked on. A split second later, the door opened and Vladimir stood on the threshold.

Charlotte just stared at him as a terrifying mix of emotions welled in her breast. Desire, fury, regret, and most painful of all, the love that still wouldn’t abate.

“Charlotte.” He spoke her name without an ounce of reproach. “Have you finished packing already?”

Had she finished packing?

“What am I to you?” She demanded, her voice low and dangerous. “Tell me, please, Vladimir, because I’m pretty fucking confused.”

His eyes widened in surprise at the venom in her voice. “What do you mean?”

“That interview” She snapped. “I saw it. Everyone in the state probably saw it. Half the people in the country saw it! They saw you denounce me.”

“Charlotte,” Vladimir’s expression sobered, edging on the severity that she hated so goddamn much. “I was merely explaining-”

“Explaining what?” She returned, her voice trembling. “How we fell all over one another in sorrow? How you used me but you’ll always appreciate me because I’m such a valuable subordinate?”

“Charlotte,” Vladimir raked a hand through his hair, his own ire growing now, “I just don’t think that now is the best time to tell the media about your proclamation.”

“My proclamation?” He probably couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d physically struck her. “Is that what it is now? My proclamation? I stood on your doorstep and poured my tender little heart out to you and you took pity on me, did you?”

Her vision was blurring, and Charlotte knew that she was on the edge of angry tears, but she didn’t care. She had given this man her heart and he crushed it under his foot. Not just to her face, but for the entire country to see. “Charlotte, you came with me to New York and you can’t imagine how much I appreciate that, but we have to go back to Los Angeles, and to put this huge label on something you think you feel-”

“Something I think I feel,” Charlotte parroted flatly, her body numb from shock.

“We’ve spent a few weeks together...very intimately. Then my father got sick and emotions were running high. There’s no telling what will happen when we go back to work in Los Angeles. You might feel differently in a week or a month.”

The tears were falling now. She told him she would wait for him...that she would always be there. “Vladimir I’m telling you that I love you and you just told the entire world that I’m some regretful fling.” She shook her head slowly, disappointed in him - but even more disappointed in herself. “And you don’t even know what you did wrong.”

“Let’s be logical about this,” Vladimir returned sharply, “I know what we need, and right now, discretion is the better policy.”

“No,” Charlotte glared at him, her cheeks wet. “You know what you need...and quite frankly, I don’t fucking care anymore.”

Charlotte turned to the coat closet behind her and yanked it open, pulling out her boots and her purse. She didn’t bother with her luggage - she never wanted to set foot in this house again as long as she lived. “Charlotte.” There was a warning in Vladimir’s voice - but there was also something else. A tinge of hysteria that gave her cruel satisfaction. “Where are you going?”

He moved to block her way before Charlotte could get around him and she reacted instantly. Her palm rang out against his cheek with a loud slap, the sound echoing through the open entryway. In the aftermath, the redhead couldn’t make out his expression - her vision was too blurred with moisture. “If I had done that the first day in your office, we both would have been better off.”

With that, she shoved him out of the way, opening the door and fleeing out into the night.

Charlotte wanted nothing more than to find a dark hole and climb into it. She wanted to sob until all the moisture in her body had dried up and she expired from exhaustion. But she could do none of these things. Not yet.

First, she had to get home, where she belonged.

 

It was an arduous process.  Charlotte hoofed it about two miles beyond the Kensley manor before she finally got to a road where she could catch a cab. The ride to the airport ended up being something astronomical, but she hardly paid attention to numbers on the meter.  A one-way ticket back to Los Angeles at such short notice was also hard to come by. Across that, there were several people that seemed to have recognized her from TV.

Though Charlotte had only seen the tail end of Vladimir’s interview, it, and the news segment that had prompted it were being looped, over and over, on most of the TVs in the airport. The redhead did her best to keep her head down until she boarded her plane, and even then, she cringed away from those who still whispered maliciously under the breaths.

By the time she finally got back to LA, she was exhausted, body and soul. Uncaring of the cost by this juncture, she called a car to take her back to her apartment. Charlotte once thought she’d be coming back here with Vladimir by her side. She imagined how delighted Delilah would be when she told her what they were working towards.

But now, all of that was gone.

It was three am by the time she got back, but she had barely put her key in the lock before it was jerked open and Lila stood on the threshold. She took one look at Charlotte’s beaten form and opened her arms to her closest friend, tears in her own eyes. “Welcome home, babe.”

Charlotte collapsed into her embrace.

 

**

 

Vladimir stayed out on the kitchen terrace until the sun rose. His phone buzzed multiple times in his pocket - until he grew so frustrated that he chucked the damn thing off the balcony just to watch it smash on the paving stones below.

But the gesture didn’t make him feel any better.

Twilight came, and then the first rosy lines of dawn appeared on the horizon.

Vladimir continued to stare at some undetermined point in the distance, inner turmoil consuming him.

She hit him. Slapped him full force. And the way Charlotte had looked at him...as if he were some kind of monster…

This was a mistake. It was all a huge mistake. They just happened to be two people together who had fallen victim to their lusts. Ultimately, the differences that had first separated them couldn’t be overcome. Charlotte didn’t understand his logic. She would never understand his logic.

And God knew he would never understand hers.

So why did he feel this gaping emptiness now that she’d gone? Even worse, guilt consumed him for letting her walk away. Who knew how far she had walked? She could still be walking, for all he knew.

Or she could be on her way back to Los Angeles...where he would eventually have to go to face her.

Christ.

Vladimir was tired. He wanted to sleep...but there was a deep gnawing in his gut that went beyond hunger. That went beyond any discomfort that he’d ever felt...it was almost enough to make him physically ill.

It kept him standing there, on the terrace, long after the sun came up. Long after the flight he’d scheduled to take both he and Charlotte back to Los Angeles took off. He was still leaning against the railing when noon rolled around, wondering what the hell was the matter with him.

When the sun was high in the sky, he caught the glint of a Silver Aston Martin coming down the drive. Of all of them, Ethan was the one who most favored fancy cars - and it was his car that approached. He parked in the drive and strode up to the front door to let himself in. Vladimir wondered if he’d come to visit their father, despite just having gone back to the city the previous day.

But Ethan wasn’t looking to go to the hospital.

No sooner had he laid eyes on Vladimir than he was crossing the kitchen to join him on the terrace. He stood about an arm’s-length away from the dark-haired man, his expression carefully neutral. “Vlad...I’ve been calling you. Everyone has. Where’s your phone?”

“Broken.” He grunted, glancing at the mess of metal and plastic on the stones below.

Ethan merely stared for a moment before opening the briefcase he carried with him. “Here.” He extended a single piece of paper to Vladimir. The taller man glanced over his shoulder, arching a brow.

“What’s that?”

Ethan hesitated a moment before answering. “It’s Charlotte’s written resignation. She’s letting us keep the designs pulling out of both projects she’s working on - in LA and St. Petersburg.”

Vladimir felt as if someone had doused him in ice water. His gut clenched, and his heart stuttered in his chest.

Resignation. She was resigning.

There would be no conversation - no last chance to try to understand one another. When Vladimir did go back to LA, he would see none of Charlotte.

And it hurt.

A pain that went beyond anything physical. Something visceral and deep that made it hard for him to draw a single breath without struggling. “We’re...going to need to tackle this,” Ethan continued lowly, setting the letter on the terrace railing next to Vlad. “Find someone to take her place. Both projects are going to stall without an architect on site.”

The idea of replacing Charlotte somehow seemed even more blasphemous than that of never seeing her again. Almost as if it couldn’t be real. “Vlad...are you listening to me?”

A beat passed before Vladimir answered him, his tone dull. “I’m listening.”

He was listening, but for the first time in his life, he felt no impetus to do. All the worrying, the need to keep moving without rest...it had stopped.

And, for the first time in his life, it occurred to Vladimir Kensley that he had made one hell of a mistake.

 

Chapter 13 - Illogical

 

Going through hardships as a child was much different than going through them as an adult. When Charlotte was nine, the death of her mother had devastated her, but she bounced back. Having no home had made her feel broken and vulnerable, but her father had told her to use the pain to make herself stronger.

And so she had.

But Charlotte wasn’t a child anymore. She couldn’t go running to her father with all her problems - and this was a mess that she was going to have to fix herself.

The first few days back in Los Angeles were sheer agony. The first thing she did was cancel all her contracts with Kensley Enterprises. Of course, she wasn’t so petty that she wouldn’t allow them to keep the designs and finish the building, but she wouldn’t be on site. In fact, she wouldn’t go within five miles of the damned thing if she could help it.

Abandoning her contracts meant abandoning the remainder of her salary - most of which was set to be paid upon completion of the structures she worked on.

Which meant that Charlotte was all the way back to square one. She had managed to squirrel away ten, maybe twenty thousand dollars - but that wasn’t enough to start her own firm. In LA, that was barely enough to live on for six months.

Which meant that she had to get a new job.

That, perhaps, was the hardest. It had been difficult enough for Charlotte to find work before the fiasco with Kensley Enterprises - now it seemed as if her name preceded her everywhere she applied. Of course, when she quit the Kensley and Dansk projects so soon after the news scandal, it had only seemed to confirm that the nasty lies about her were true. No one wanted to touch her.

 

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Charlotte was used to job hunting in vain. Once she had graduated architecture school, she had spent almost a year searching for work before she was hired at a firm - and she could be patient.

The worst part was reliving the last six months...wondering where the hell she had gone wrong.

Delilah, for her part, tried to lift her out of her doldrums. The first night Charlotte arrived back in LA, she let the redhead cry until she had exhausted herself. When she woke, Lila made sure she ate, even though she said she had little appetite.

But it wasn’t just her appetite for food that had gone. Charlotte found she had little interest in anything at all...even her drawing table. It was as if any and all inspiration had simply fled without a trace. On her way back from Russia, her head had been full to bursting with ideas. She was eager to have a pencil and paper in hand.

But that was before New York. Before everything fell apart.

Charlotte hadn’t gotten a letter back from Kensley Enterprises after her resignation. She did her best not to think about it. In reality, she’d gotten lucky. They could have sued her for breaking contract and leaving them high and dry. But, somehow, she couldn’t imagine Vladimir or his father being so petty.

Charlotte was listless. Her insomnia returned full force and, without inspiration to draw, she stayed up half the night watching old movies she had no interest in. In her astoundingly dull life, only one thing remained plainly vivid: her memories of Vladimir.

She was stupid to have gotten involved with him. Stupid to think that he could ever understand her, and now, she was even stupider still to dwell on memories that only hurt her. The first time he kissed her...How he’d shown her around St. Petersburg...the way he complimented her in her gray dress.

The dress was still in the Kensley Manor, and, honestly, Charlotte was probably better for it.

One day, about two weeks after she had returned to Los Angeles, Lila came home from work early. As usual, she grabbed the mail on her way in and sifted through it, pausing when she came upon a letter addressed to Charlotte. Glancing at the redhead sprawled on the couch she scanned it quickly before making a face. “Charlotte.”

The elder woman raised her head slightly. “Hi Lila.”

“Hi Lotte.” Biting her lip, Lila rounded the couch to sink down next to her friend. “Lotte, your old company sent you something. They say they’d be willing to rehire you.”

Charlotte showed no visible reaction to this, her eyes sliding closed. “Mm.”

It was insulting for Lila to read further, and she only did it because she knew that Charlotte needed work...and no one wanted to give it to her. In the space of a month, she’d gone from up-and-coming to outcast, and all because of Vladimir fucking Kensley. If she ever saw the man again, Lila would throttle him. “You’d have to take a ten percent pay cut and sign a two year non-compete clause, along with a contract.”

Charlotte exhaled a long breath and Lila found her own chest tight. She hated this. It was like something in her best friend had broken, and there was nothing she could do to fix it.

“Ok.” Charlotte’s words jerked the blonde out of her reverie and her eyes widened.

“Ok what?”

“‘Ok’ I’ll go back to the firm.”

“Charlotte!” Lila all but screeched in outrage.  “This is fucking exploitation! There’s no way you can accept this!” Now, she regretted even opening the damn thing!

But Charlotte did accept it. A week later she was back at work - eight hour days, five days a week. Somehow, it wasn’t as bad as she remembered it. She was lucky there was no pressure to come up with her usual designs, as her well had run dry. It was easy enough to draw lines straight up and down on paper - and people liked that sort of thing, even if she found it uninspired.

She wasn’t the top designer at the company - but then, she had never achieved that title before. People had wanted her before because she was unique. An oddity. Now the firm just wanted her back to exploit the buzz around her name.

Either way, she was making money again. She could support herself. Charlotte had dreaded the possibility of having to ask her father for money. The man had already called her and told her that he would provide her with anything she needed during the difficult time in her life, as well as threatening to wring the necks of both Jackson Kensley and his second oldest son...but Charlotte had dissuaded him.

She didn’t blame Jackson, and she wouldn’t want her father’s long-standing relationship with his friend souring because of a misconception. She wished Jackson Kensley nothing but the best and, secretly, seeing news of his improvement due to his chemo treatments was one of the only things that lifted her spirits.

Vladimir returned to Los Angeles about a week after she did - and there was a lot of buzz around him too. After his first official media appearance, they couldn’t seem to get enough of him - even though he had reverted to his old ways. He avoided the cameras whenever possible, and spoke to no one.

Not that Charlotte was watching.

It was strange to know that he was only ten miles away from her - the workaholic back in his element. Charlotte wondered if he had already written her off as an imperfection in the perfect alignment of his life.

It was the first time she actually cried since that first night back from New York, and then she grew angry about how much the thought of the man still upset her.

Eventually, she promised herself, she would get over him. It hurt now, but maybe three months in the future...or six…. perhaps even a year on, this would all be just a faint memory. A subscript in the tale of her life. Her inspiration would return and, somehow, she would dig herself out of the rut into which she’d slid.

That was what she needed to think about now. Wasting any more time on Vladimir Kensley was a lost cause.

 

**

 

“Vlad.”

He spent a lot of time in his office. When Vladimir was working, he didn’t have to think about anything else...and that was how he liked it.

“Vlad.” In truth, Vladimir didn’t even know why he had bothered to keep his hotel reservation. There was a plush armchair in his office, and a long sofa...he could sleep here. It just meant that he could get more done.

“Vladimir.” The third time his name was called, he finally looked up to see who was in the doorway - and dropped his pen in surprise.

It was Ethan.

The last time he’d spoke to Ethan was on the phone, a week ago. Either he or Lucas called weekly to give him updates on their father’s condition. Jackson was almost done with his first round of treatment, and soon, they would be sending him home to rest. Vladimir knew he should be overjoyed, but these days, he found it an effort to just be. The work that he used to revel in now exhausted him...but he still kept up. He had never fallen behind, and he wasn’t about to start now.

“Ethan...what a nice surprise.” Vladimir meant every word, but the statement came out sounding lackluster.

“You sound thrilled.” Ethan’s response was sardonic and he tossed his leather duffel onto the floor before stepping into the office. “I just got in... thought I’d come and pay you a visit.”

“I appreciate it,” Vlad put a little more enthusiasm into his answer this time. “What brings you to town?”

“Here to meet Harper’s parents, actually.” Vladimir’s head snapped up in shock at that one. Parents? Ethan? Unless they were their parents, he’d never heard the words used in the same sentence.

“The girl with you last month?”

Ethan nodded with a small, amused smile. “Athena’s here too. She’s come to visit Harper…. I tried to get Toshiro to come, but he’s firmly entrenched in Italy.”

“So... this is serious then.” It was the only thing Vladimir could think to say. 

Ethan shrugs. “That’s up to her, I guess. I’m just a playboy playing a card.” It was a very typically Ethan thing to say, and Vlad rolled his eyes. “In more important news, Vlad, I got some information from HR here that worries me.”

“Really?” Vladimir gave his brother his full attention. “What’s going on?”

Ethan gave the elder man a pointed look before answering. “You haven’t left the office in a week. What’s that about?”

Vladimir immediately frowned. “Please don’t tell me you came to interrogate me too.” This was just the kind of meddling that drove him out of his mind. Even more so now because, somewhere, deep down, Vladimir did want help. He wanted someone to tell him how to fixed this damn hollow feeling in his chest. Why his cheek still smarted where Charlotte had struck him a whole fucking month later.

There were times when he thought he was losing his mind. “No one’s interrogating you, Vlad.”

“Oh, I’m certainly interrogating him. I’m interrogating the living hell out of him.” Vlad bolted to his feet almost immediately as his father, supported by his mother, came ambling into the room.

“Dad!” He exclaimed, his tone thick with worry. “What are you doing here? You’re not healthy enough to travel! You haven’t even finished your treatment-”

“Vladimir, be a good boy and put your ass in the seat.” Jackson pointed with his wooden cane and, automatically, Vladimir sat. Fifteen or thirty-five, the result was the same. When Jackson Kensley raised his voice, you listened. “Now…” The older man eased into the armchair across from his son.

Though he looked pale and drained, their father wasn’t trembling. His voice was strong and his green eyes bright with conviction. Vladimir shot Ethan a furtive gaze as if to ask for help, but the shorter man merely held his hands up helplessly.  Olivia Kensley sank down on the couch next to Ethan, looking just as upset as Vladimir that Jackson had somehow managed to sneak into a three-thousand mile flight. “There’s working and then there’s working yourself to death, Vladimir, and you’re doing the latter. You keep this up, I’m going to have to pass the business to Alistair in a few months, and we’ll all be screwed.”

Vladimir couldn’t even imagine. If Alistair even caught wind of any such plans, he’d run for the hills. “Vlad, we know you’re not a talker. And you don’t like people meddling in your business. Why,” he went on pointedly, “Do you think I sent you Charlotte?”

Vladimir opened his mouth, then shut it. Sent? “Because, my boy, she likes to talk. And she gets into people’s business. She’s a brilliant artist, a talented architect and despite that tough exterior, she gives everything of herself.”

She’d certainly given everything to him.

It was a realization that only hit Vladimir in that instant. He had known that she came to New York because he asked her, but now, upon further reflection, Vladimir remembered other things she’d done.

Sharing her city with him. She didn’t have to eat lunch with her complicated boss every day - to teach him to like things that were common place to her. She had worked just as hard as he had worked - harder, perhaps, to prove that she was up to the gargantuan task before her. She had altered her plans - her precious plans - to compromise with him when he called her outlandish. She let him show her his world in Russia, and gave her body to him when he his need overwhelmed him.

And then she gave him her love. She gave it to him and, like a goddamned fool, he tried to stuff it into a bottle and put a label on it. A proclamation. Feelings that changed with the wind. Dear Christ, when he said those things about her in front of the entirety of America…

No wonder she had slapped him.

Charlotte handed her heart to him on a silver platter and he had all but skewered it.

“She loved me.” He murmured, his own heart heavy with regret. “And I didn’t understand it.”

“Loves,” Ethan piped up at that particular moment, raising a finger in emphasis. “She loves you. If the way the woman was looking at you was any indication, I doubt she’s just forgotten it that quickly.”

Vladimir felt a glorious jolt of emotion he thought he had forgotten over the past month: crazy, insane hope. But, just as quickly as it erupted, the flame flickered and died. “I humiliated her…” He groaned, raking his hands through his hair as guilt coiled within him. “I let her walk away and I…” He trailed off. “I didn’t think I could love her back.”

At the time, Vladimir had been so busy trying to quantify the emotion that he hadn’t even realized that it was staring him in the face. The calm Charlotte brought him when everything else was turmoil. How he could lose himself in her for hours. How she both infuriated and amused him at the same time...and the way she stayed by his side when he needed her most.

Vladimir had never told anyone he needed them. Not until Charlotte.

“And now?” His mother’s soft touch came up under his chin, raising Vladimir’s race to witness her radiant smile.

“I…” Fuck, they were really going to make him say it. Once he did, Vladimir knew there was no going back. This was the ultimate interrogation...but this time, he needed it. “I need her.”

“Well,” With the largest grin Vladimir had seen in a while, Jackson Kensley hauled himself to his feet. “I need my damned architect back. This substitute is bungling everything.”

Bungling was perhaps a strong word, but Vladimir would be the first to admit that the man they’re hired to replace Charlotte had none of her vision. He was, in a word, boring. And six months ago, Vladimir would have welcomed him with open arms.

But things had changed.

“I heard,” Ethan tried for a casual tone but failed miserably. It was clear he was salivating in anticipation. “That she’s been hired back at her old firm. And under contract no less.”

The information bought a surprisingly intense burst of anger bubbling to the surface of Vladimir’s consciousness. Charlotte had told him how the last firm she worked for made it their inherent duty to stifle her creativity. The fact that she had to go back to them…” It’s three...which means she’ll still be at work for the next two hours.”

But Vladimir was already up and grabbing his suit coat. Ethan all but cackled as he strode past him. “Oh, I’m calling every reporter in the city.”

That hardly sounded good - but at this particular juncture, Vladimir didn’t care. He was willing to do whatever it took to get Charlotte back in his arms...grovel and beg if need be.

He simply wouldn’t be complete without her.

 

**

 

It was a particularly dull day. Charlotte was counting down the hours until she got off the clock. A client had come in and requested her specifically, citing something about some drawings she’d done years ago that the company kept on record.

They wanted her particular brand of artistry - the abstract. The new and indefinite.

And, for the first time in a month, Charlotte had been tempted.

She did her best to swallow the urge. It would do her no good if inspiration hit her now. There would be nothing she could do but sit on it for two years - the length of the contract she had signed with the firm. As per the provisions of said contract, even if she did create something worth building, the company would own it outright.

But even those conditions weren’t enough to stop her drawing hand from itching.

While everyone was out for lunch, Charlotte remained in the office. She hesitated for almost a full five minutes before bringing out a pencil and paper.

And then she began to draw - and everything came rushing back. The emptiness ebbed, her chest filled and for the first time in four weeks, she saw in color. Bold, strong lines, a slanting roof, an unconventional triple entryway...Within ten minutes she was completely absorbed -and her drawing hand moved as if it had a mind of its own.

Half an hour into her lunch break, she still hadn’t eaten a thing. Lila was going to be mad at her, she knew. Charlotte was so engrossed in her drawing, that she didn’t even look up when the bell over the door sounded.

A minute later, a tall shadow fell over her, and she started, raising her head.

In that instant, the redhead forgot how to breathe.

Vladimir Kensley stood over her. He was out of breath- almost as if he’d been running. His hair was mussed and his clothes windswept. His shirt looked like he might have slept in it, but God did he look glorious. If Charlotte thought she had missed those deep blue eyes of his before, seeing them in the flesh only reminded her of all she’d lost.

Of what he’d said about her.

Charlotte steadied herself, trying to quell her pounding heart. “Can I help you?” Though she’d tried for a frosty tone, a slight tremor ruined it, and she cursed inwardly. What was he doing here? What more could he possibly want?

“Charlotte, I love you.”

Time stopped.

Charlotte thought, for a second, that she might have died in her sleep. She couldn’t be conscious. This had to be a dream, because there was no way Vladimir was here, in her own personal hell, saying the three words she never thought she’d hear him utter. “I know you might not believe me,” Vladimir continued, his voice low and intense, his gaze desperate. “But I swear to you I have regretted the night you left for the past four weeks. I was an asshole...I was...coldly logical...I was the me that you tried to breed out and when I lost you...I realized that I would rather give all that up than give you up.”

She couldn’t speak...and even if she could, Charlotte had no idea what she’d say.  “I’m not a praying man, Lotte,” He continued, the nickname giving her a little thrill, “But if I were, the only thing I’d want is your forgiveness. If you could ever love me like you did...I can wait. I can wait for as long as it takes.”

Dear Jesus Christ, she didn’t want to cry. Charlotte had done more than enough crying in the past few weeks. But, here she was, doing her best to swallow the sobs that threatened to break free.

“Vladimir…” She managed to croak moisture blurring her vision. “You ass…”

“Come with me, Charlotte.” Reaching for her, Vladimir took her hand in his. “You don’t belong here. Come back to the project. We have to go back to Russia...to Berlin.”

Berlin…

“Unfortunately, Mr. Kensley, she’s not going anywhere.”

It was like a scene from a bad movie - which Charlotte had been watching far too much of lately. Her boss, Jennifer, was always the first to return from lunch, and today was no exception. At the sight of Vladimir Kensley in her office, the woman’s piggy gray eyes lit in triumph. She had been hoping for this day, the bitch. “Charlotte came back of her own accord.” The older woman dropped the bag with her lunch in it on her desk, rounding the corner to confront Vladimir directly. “I have three copies of a signed contract and a non-compete clause - legally binding for two years.”

Charlotte’s heart sank. That meant no Kensley building...no Dansk in St. Petersburg…

But Vladimir hardly blinked at the pompous woman’s proclamation. His blue gaze was cold as he stared down his nose at her. “Jennifer Connor, is it?”

The woman preened. “You’ve heard of our firm.”

“I know your name,” Vladimir continued, as if she hadn’t spoken, “Because I bought your firm - about thirty minutes ago. And I’m very happy to say that I will be tearing up Charlotte’s contracts right after you pack up your desk.”

Jennifer’s eyes all but bugged out of her head as her face went pale. “Y-you can’t be serious.”

“You can make a few calls while you’re moving your things,” Vladimir returned flatly, before taking Charlotte’s hand to tug her out from behind her desk. He glanced down at the half-finished drawing on her desk, turning his head sideways and frowning deeply as he looked down at it. “What’s this? A private residence?”

Charlotte laughed. She couldn’t help it. Some things never changed. “It’s a mockup for an insurance bureau...I don’t do houses, Vladimir.”

The dark-haired man rolled up the drawing almost tenderly before handing it to her. “You could do our house.”

Charlotte inhale sharply as her heart leapt. “Our house?”

Vladimir merely beamed at her. “We can talk about it later. Over dinner. But first, we have a press conference.”

Charlotte’s mouth dropped open. “A... a what?”

But Vladimir was already dragging her towards the front entryway, beyond which Charlotte could see no less than twenty reporters congregated. On their way out, they passed a desolate looking Jennifer, who was on the phone and looking paler by the minute.

The din beyond the doors of the firm was ungodly, each reporter clamoring to get their questions in. Charlotte, who found she liked reporters little more than Vladimir did, attempted to hide behind him, but he pulled her front and center. Instead of answering a single question they posed to him, he plucked the first microphone he could find from the slender fingers of a female reporter.

Cameras rolled. “I’m only going to say this once,” Vladimir spoke in a strong voice that echoed over the crowd as he pulled Charlotte close. “Charlotte Gardner is coming back to work for Kensley Enterprises. She will be assuming the role of consulting architect on several of our upcoming projects.” He glanced down at her as Charlotte gaped at him. She realized, dimly, that Jackson Kensley stood at the back of the crowd, supported by both his wife and his son Ethan. She had no idea how he’d gotten here, or why he’d come so far, but the man was shooting her an incomparable grin, and a thumbs up.

“Charlotte will also,” Her attention snapped back to Vladimir, who was continuing in a decidedly different tone. His voice had become almost hesitant - something on the edge of hopeful and nervous, “With a little luck, consent to marry me...because no one else can tolerate me like she can.”

In that moment, everyone else ceased to exist. The roar of over-excited reporters faded to the background, and LA traffic ground to a halt.

Vladimir wanted her to marry him. Marriage.  Just like that.

Reaching up, she cupped his face in her hands, regardless of who was watching. “I will never understand you,” her heart was fuller than it had ever been, and Charlotte knew that now, more than ever, her future burned bright.

“You don’t have to,” Vladimir’s lips skimmed hers, “You just have to say yes.”

And so, in the most outlandish action she had ever performed, Charlotte did.

Just like that.

 

THE END

 

 

 

DIRTY BUSINESS

ETHAN KENSLEY

E LLEN L ANE

© Copyright 2017 - All rights reserved.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.

All rights reserved.  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

Prologue

 

Ethan was used to pain.

In his short seven years alive, he’d experienced quite a lot of it - both physical and emotional, so the idea of pain didn’t really frighten him anymore. At least, he never thought it would. It was always a different story when the pain was actually inflicted - and it was no help that his mother seemed particularly good at beating the ever-loving shit out of him when he least expected it.

Like today.

Ethan was fairly enthusiastic about his day at school. The math test had been an absolute piece of cake, chicken fried steak was served for lunch (his was government - subsidized) and he missed the bus, which meant he got to walk home in a little bubble of solitude.

But when he got home, his entire world turned on its head. He thought that his mother might still be at work, but she wasn’t - he found that out the hard way. The moment he opened the door, she hit him in the stomach with such force that he immediately dropped to his knees. The lunch that he had so savored only a few hours ago immediately threatened to come up as he struggled to catch his breath.

The pain was so immediate, so violent, that he didn’t even have time to cry out. Ethan had been caught completely unaware, which was what his mother had intended. As much as she loved inflicting agony on him, she relished it all the more when he was surprised.

“You little shit .” He dimly registered her incensed tone as he tried, simultaneously, to draw breath and to keep his lunch down. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you weren’t on the goddamned bus?”

Ethan couldn’t answer her just then. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able. He could barely speak at all - just a pattern of pained wheezes that whistled raggedly past his lips. “ Mommy...I…”

“Don’t give me your fucking excuses.” Alicia Weathers slammed the door behind her son so hard the windows rattled, missing his head by bare centimeters.

Unlike him, she’d had a particularly bad day.

For Alicia, it seemed like every day since Ethan had come into her life was a bad day. Her husband, the man she loved more than anything else in the entire cosmos - the only one who stuck by her when her parents had all but abandoned her - had left just a few days after the child was born. It was obvious, he told her with no small amount of derision, that she loved the little shit more than she loved him.

The statement had sapped any remaining love that Alicia might have had for her child - and, in truth, there hadn’t been very much to begin with. Alicia was a young woman with the misfortune of having drug-addicted, abusive parents that threw her out at the age of fifteen. Despite her hatred for her parents, she slowly slipped into their exact shoes, and by the age of nineteen, was married to a man equally as ornery and abusive as both her parents had been. At twenty, she thought that the solution to her problems might be a baby.

How very wrong she had been. For Alicia, Ethan was just an addition to her many troubles, and she made sure that he knew it every day of his young life. The only reason why she hadn’t given the little brat up for adoption was because the state gave her money for him as long as she was making minimum wage - and she couldn’t pass that up.

“Take this.” She shoved the bucket and sponge that she held at him. “And clean the fucking bathroom. It’s a sty.”

Ethan knew better than to remind his mother that he’d cleaned the bathroom just the previous day. He had no idea what she did in there, but whatever it was, it decimated the gleaming space within hours of his scrubbing. Not that he could ever get the bathroom too clean. The toilet leaked, and there were little bugs everywhere that he didn’t know how to get rid of.

“Can I have my friends over afterwards?” It still hurt to breathe, but he somehow managed the question anyway. When his friends were over, his mother usually didn’t hit him so much. Probably because she worried about what one little boy or another would say if given the chance. It was the one foolproof way he knew to avoid his mother’s violence - if only for a little while.

Alicia’s face screwed up in confusion. Though her first impulse was to deny the little shit, if his friends came over that meant she wouldn’t have to deal with him for a while. She was always down for a little alone time. Alicia’s favorite time of the day was when it was just her, the needle, and nirvana.

And when snotty little boys were far away.

“Fine.” She scowled at him. “But don’t come up to my room. Don’t come anywhere near my room.”

“I won’t,” Ethan promised swiftly, before his boon could be rescinded. “I promise I won't.”

But Alicia didn’t hear him. She was already too absorbed in the prospect of her next high, already starting up the narrow, rickety staircase toward the only bedroom on the second floor. They lived in an old, one bedroom townhouse, and Ethan made his bedroom in a corner of the living room downstairs. He didn’t mind. There was more space there, and less chance of his mother rolling over in the middle of the night to beat him for waking her up.

Ethan hurried to the bathroom to clean as fast as he could. As always, the place was a mess, and he tried not to think about what exactly he was touching as he cleaned it. Even worse was the memory of a time his mother had invited some man he didn’t know into the house and the man held his head down into the dank toilet water for calling him a creepy jerk .

It had tasted horrible - and he had thrown up for the next few hours. The man, thankfully, had never come back.

It took the small boy about half an hour to clean up his mother’s mess.  He dumped most of what he found in the garbage and did his best to wipe clean all the surfaces he could reach. After dumping out the dirty water, he rushed for the telephone to call his friends over. As he stood on his toes to reach the kitchen counter, he winced at the sharp pain that lanced through him where his mother hit him in the stomach.

It still hurt. But he was used to this kind of pain.

**

Despite being small for his age, and constantly unkempt, Ethan was popular in his first-grade class. He had an easy way with other kids that the teachers admired, never got into fights, and was, without question, one of the brightest children in the year - if not in the entire school. 

It was, perhaps, his intelligence, that kept him from running away. Even as hopelessly unfair and unpredictable as his life was, even at age seven, he knew that getting beatings with a roof over his head was better than being homeless without the beatings. 

After he called four of his closest friends to invite them over, he quickly tidied up the area designated as his “room.” A corner of the living room held a child-sized mattress covered in a thin blanket, a few piles of clothing, and piles upon piles of books - most of them centric upon math and science. Math was Ethan’s favorite subject; and although suggestions from his teachers to bump him up a few grades had almost sent his mother into conniptions, they certainly didn’t mind lending him a few upper level books.

Ethan had finished all the books currently on loan and would have to remind himself to ask for more. He was excited to see his friends, and even more excited at the prospect of teaching them something new. One of Ethan’s favorite things to do was to teach what he knew to his friends. They told him that things like algebra and negative numbers were too hard and didn’t make sense, but to Ethan they were easy.

And that made him feel good.

While Ethan was busy trying to decide what new math theory he was going to teach his friends, Alicia was preparing herself for her daily slice of heaven. She had her syringe in hand, and was just tying up her arm when she realized that she left what remained of her stash in the downstairs bathroom - where her brat of a son was cleaning.

With a low curse, she left her syringe on the dresser and hurried downstairs. When she got to the bathroom, however, the stash wasn’t there.

Alicia didn’t panic immediately. Rather, the terror crept up on her in slow increments as she searched the bathroom, tearing apart what Ethan had so meticulously cleaned. By the time she pawed through every nook and cranny, Alicia was blinded by fury and fear.

What the hell had that little shit done with her stash!? She’d paid almost a thousand dollars for it! It was supposed to last her the rest of the month! If he’d done something to it, heaven help her, she was going to kill the little bastard. Correct her seven-year-old mistake in a single, deadly gesture.

Of course, she wasn’t thinking straight. When the junkie took over, she never did. Alicia had done some pretty awful things in junkie mode, all of which came back to haunt her when she recovered. But that wasn’t on her mind now. All she could think about was her stash and the little mistake who had taken it from her.

She stormed into the living room to find her son pouring over a book, completely absorbed in its contents. In that wild, inexplicable moment, Alicia saw him clearly. She saw her child, nothing like her - brilliant, handsome, and resourceful, who had stood up to her bullying since he could barely stand by himself. He was destined to be more than she ever would and she hated him for it.

When she went for him, Alicia’s intent was deadly.

When his mother slammed him against the wall, Ethan felt something inside him break with a sickening crack that took his breath away. And then the pain - oh the pain. Like something was poking him from the inside, struggling to get out.

The pain was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He screamed - he couldn’t help it. The sensation was so sudden and intense that Ethan could do nothing but scream.

Which only enraged his mother further. “Where did you put it, you little shit?” she demanded, striking him across the face so hard that he was shocked into silence. “Where’d you put my stuff? If you threw it away, I swear to God- ”

“I don’t know, Mommy!” Ethan managed, reduced to hysteria as the pain consumed him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, you do , you little worm!” Now Alicia’s fingers wrapped around his slender neck, choking off his breath bit by bit. “Tell me where you put it! Where , you little shit!?”

Even if Ethan had known what she was talking about, he wouldn’t have been able to answer her. He could barely breathe as things stood. He hurt all over, and he could taste something warm and coppery in his mouth.

If Alicia Weathers hadn’t been so wrapped up in trying to murder her son, she might have noticed that the friends Ethan called had arrived and were gaping, open-mouthed, at her from the doorway. She also didn’t notice that one of the boys had chosen to tell his mother how Ethan was always hungry and wore tattered clothes, and that the woman was in tow with a homemade lasagna for Ethan and his family.

Elizabeth Warden was the kind of mother that Alicia was not and, at the sight of the younger girl trying to kill her son, she leapt into action, racing for Alicia and yanking her off Ethan - but the younger woman was far stronger, and soon turned her attentions on Elizabeth herself.

At the sight of his mother struggling with Ethan’s, David Warden immediately called nine-one-one.

Ethan and David’s mother ended up in the hospital - she with multiple lacerations to her face and he with a few broken ribs, bruised lungs, and a mighty concussion. When Ethan came to, it wasn’t to his mother’s face, but the face of a stranger. A kind blonde woman with glasses and a sweet smile who told him she was sorry, but he wasn’t going to be able to see his mother anymore.

Ethan cried, but it wasn’t because he was sad. It was because, when the blonde lady held him, he felt safer than he had in all his years with his mother; and though he was only seven years old, he knew that was not the way things were supposed to be.

Chapter 1 - Scratching the Itch

 

22 Years Later

 

When his phone rang, Ethan hardly gave it a passing glance. He knew exactly who was calling, and why they were calling, and it was far too early in the morning to get yelled at - at least, in his humble opinion. He’d barely gotten up five minutes ago, and he needed a cup of very strong coffee before he was ready to tackle the day. Before that, it would be physically impossible to take any phone calls.

He pulled on his robe and shuffled into the shower, looking forward to the espresso that awaited him when he got out. Rosita made the best cup of coffee in the city, and he was lucky to have her putting up with his bullshit.

At least, that was what he thought until, halfway through his shower, came a knock on the bathroom door. He poked his head out to glare at the closed door. “What is it?”

Rosita cracked open the door to poke her head in. It wasn’t as if he had ever been ashamed of showing his goods to anyone with two x chromosomes, but Rosita was different. “Sorry Mr. Kensley,” she extended his cordless office phone through the crack in the door. “It’s Mr. Alistair. He says it’s very important that he talk to you.”

Alistair? Wasn’t Alistair in the mid-west somewhere? What the hell was he doing calling Ethan at this hour of the morning? With a groan, he reluctantly shut off the shower, reached for a towel to wrap around himself before stepping grudgingly onto the slick tile floor. No sooner had he taken the phone from Rosita’s outstretched hand than he was barking into the receiver.

“Alistair, what could you possibly want at this hour?”

“Me ?” A deep highland brogue came back brusquely, making Ethan wince at its volume. “I don’t want a bloody thing!” With his accent - still heavy even after almost two decades stateside, the statement sounded more like ‘I dinna wan a bluidy thin’ - but Ethan, unlike many people Alistair ran into, had no problem deciphering his brother’s way of speaking. “It’s four in the morning here, Ethan, and I just got a call from Vlad who asked me to call you because he knew you wouldn’t pick up your bloody phone.”

Well, that was a dirty trick. Ethan hadn’t thought that Vladimir would try an alternative way to contact him, but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. When it came to getting work done, Vladimir was one of the hardest task-masters in existence. “Well, shit.”

“Shit is right! It’s the arse-crack of dawn here. Call the madman and let me go back to sleep!”

“Right, right.” Ethan, normally guiltless in every endeavor, couldn’t help but feel a little guilty on this one. If there was anyone in their family who was less of a morning person than he was, it was Alistair. Of course, Vladimir had preyed on that particular detail.

The bastard.

Apologizing once more, Ethan hung up to silently fume for a moment. His first impulse was to call Vlad out on his sheer nastiness. One of the caveats of having a brother who was also your boss was shit like this. The only reason Ethan didn’t immediately call the older man was because he recognized that, in part...well, if he was honest, this situation was kind of his fault anyway.

Raking a hand through his damp hair, he leaned against the edge of the sink to call Vlad’s private number. His older brother picked up on the first ring. “Alistair was angry, wasn’t he?”

Ethan didn’t know what infuriated him more - that his brother knew exactly how to play all his siblings, or that he always seemed to have the upper hand in an argument. That was, perhaps, because Vladimir didn’t often engage in arguments he didn’t think he could win. “That was cold, Vlad.”

“What’s cold,” his brother returned in an irate tone slightly colored with his Slavic roots, “Is not answering a call when there’s something important to discuss.”

Ethan repressed a groan. Somehow, Vladimir’s idea of “important” differed greatly from his own. “Vladimir, we finalized those figures yesterday.”

“I’ve made some adjustments,” Vladimir returned succinctly, making Ethan’s eyes widen.

“What kind of adjustments? Those ledgers were perfect . Vladimir, what have you-”

“I suppose you’ll know when you reach the office.” Ethan glared daggers at the phone, cursing his brother’s curious mix of wile and gall. “I’ll wait for you. See you soon, Ethan.”

And then he hung up, leaving Ethan to gape at the phone like an idiot. How...How did he always let Vlad back him into a corner? Wasn’t it enough that the man was just as ruthlessly intelligent as he was (if not as mathematically inclined)? No, Vladimir just had to get under his skin.

He forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. This, he reminded himself, wasn’t Vlad trying to be vicious or underhanded. No... this was just Vlad being Vlad - and if he, as his brother, hadn’t come to terms with that after almost two decades of getting to know the man, then he was the one at fault.

Another deep breath - slow and easy.

The elder man could be infuriating as all get-out some of the time, but he still loved him, still did his best to meet his never-ending demands.

And that was what he was going to do now.

Quickly, he toweled off and dressed in one of his favorite suits. Rosita, bless her, was waiting with his very large latte in a to-go cup. With his first grin of the morning, Ethan pressed an affectionate kiss to the older woman’s cheek. “I love you, Rosita.”

“You love my coffee.” Rosita winked at him. “Hurry up now.”

As if he could do anything else. Ethan all but jogged towards the entryway of his penthouse apartment, stopping just before he opened the door to take a peek at the floor length mirror in the entryway. His father and brothers might call him vain, but he didn’t think there was anything wrong with wanting to look good. He hadn’t got to spend nearly as much time on his hair as he would have liked, but in his favorite dark gray suit, he would say he cut a pretty charming figure.

Ethan always liked to tease his mother that, because he was the only American-born of the five adopted Kensleys, he had to work harder to be appreciated by the ladies. He didn’t have an exotic accent or get to jet away to far-off lands often; instead, he relied on his looks, his good taste, and a rather warped brand of chivalry.

Ethan’s car was parked in a private garage and he would never argue when someone called him anal about his vehicle. It was the first major purchase he made when he began work at his father’s company, and it would always be near and dear to his heart. Apart from that, it was absolutely gorgeous.

The silver Aston Martin glinted in the shadows, it’s headlights blinking when Ethan unlocked it. The moment he slid into the driver’s seat, he found some of the morning’s stress melting away. In his car, it didn’t matter if he was in traffic or not, he could be at ease.

Which was a blessing, considering that he and Vlad were probably going to bump heads the moment he stepped into the office. The mere notion was enough to give him a headache, so he shoved it aside in favor of contemplating what he would do when he was finished with work.

If Ethan was going to have a stressful day, then the last thing he wanted was to have to deal with stress when he came home. He’d want to unwind; and for Ethan, unwinding meant company. It always had.

His lips curved upward into an indulgent smile as he pulled out of the garage and onto Park Avenue. The question was: who would he call? He had a ready-and-waiting list of women in his dossier, each of whom had their own particular merits. There was a fiery redhead named Stephanie who was a Wall Street Banker, a blonde with French origins - Lunette - who liked to dress up.

But, if he were really honest with himself, Ethan knew who he would end up with. He had a thing for dark-haired women, and Carmen was the most alluring one he’d ever met. She was vivacious, witty, and always willing to go another round.

And it was she who he would call on tonight.

**

To be fair, Ethan’s day was only about half as stressful as he had imagined it would be. Vlad had only wanted him to come in early so he could personally tell him why the reiterated figures were shit - and so he could pile another project onto his already huge pile. Whenever he could, Vlad plotted to get Ethan into the office early - no small feat when one considered that the man slept until noon on his off days.

Though Ethan might give off the image of a slacker, he held his family - and the enterprise bearing their name, in high regard. While he was at work, he was working - and nothing else. He ran the accounting department that not only ran figures for the New York City hub and other cities in the US, but the international cities as well. It was a lot of paperwork - but it helped that Ethan was nothing short of a human calculator.

He’d been a savant with numbers as far back as he could remember - not that he liked to remember too terribly far into the past.

Ethan hunkered over his desk all day, stopping only to have one of his favorite sandwiches, a Rueben, for lunch before diving back into his workload. By the time he finally finished all the figures Vladimir requested, it was about an hour after he had asked Carmen to meet him.

But she, as always, was extremely flexible - no pun intended.

She met him at the entrance of his apartment complex and Ethan was struck, as always, by her effortless beauty. Tanned skin, gleaming ebony hair braided halfway down her back, and exotic, almond-shaped hazel eyes. He could imagine that when Carmen entered the courtroom, more than a few witnesses found themselves tongue-tied at the mere sight of her.

After several encounters, Ethan was happy to say that he knew just how to handle the silver-tongued vixen.

“You always keep me waiting, Ethan.” Her voice was low and smooth as honey as she embraced him, kissing him on the cheek warmly. “What am I going to do with you?”

He had several ideas - and all of them involved going up to his penthouse. “We can discuss it over dinner,” he chuckled lowly before lowering his mouth to bite at the place where her neck met her shoulder indulgently. “We can order from that absurdly expensive seafood place you like so much.”

“I don’t need dinner, Ethan.”

One of Carmen’s best qualities, in Ethan’s opinion, was that she was direct. She knew what she wanted, and had no hesitation in taking it.

So why should he hesitate in taking her?

Ethan barely lasted until the front door of the penthouse. Luckily for him, Rosita had already left for the day, so they had the apartment completely to themselves.

Carmen wasn’t big on kissing - at least not his mouth. The moment they were through the door, she was on her knees, lithe fingers working at his slacks. Ethan’s fingers slid through her gleaming, dark hair, loosening her braid a moment before divine, all-encompassing warmth enveloped his erection straight to the root. A low groan of pure satisfaction escaped him as he leaned against a nearby wall, all too willing to let Carmen work her magic.

And what magic it was - she was a goddess completely and wholly devoted to the task of worshipping his cock. Hot, wet suction bobbed over the length of him, over and over, until Carmen took him entirely down her throat and he cursed lowly as the adept muscles there contracted around him. As tempted as he was to let her continue this all night, he needed more.

Taking hold of her shoulders, he jerked her upward, turning to pin her against the very wall he’d straightened from. He cut off Carmen’s husky chuckle of triumph with one of the kisses she so shied away from. He was rewarded with a brief play of her tongue against his before his mouth fell against her throat.

He licked and sucked at the tender skin there, creating a line of marks that soon had her writhing in his arms as he worked her skirt up and over her hips.

She wore no panties beneath, and Ethan hissed lowly at the discovery. Carmen always liked to be risqué. Once she had even let him fuck her in an empty courtroom - one of the more thrilling moments in his thirty years.

One of the best things about Carmen, however - besides the fantastic tits he was in the process of bearing to his hungry gaze - was that she had never mentioned anything about them being more than this .

When Ethan lowered his mouth to take a plump nipple between his lips, Carmen shuddered. When he suckled, she shuddered, arching against him in a silent plea for more. Ethan enthusiastically obliged, biting and sucking at the distended peaks as his hand snaked downward over the soft curve of Carmen’s stomach. When he found her soaking wet, he groaned in satisfaction.

He slipped two fingers inside her, marveling at how tightly her inner muscles grasped at the invasion as he stroked her from the inside out. Carmen arched against him, clutching helplessly at his shoulders as he exploited a single spot deep within her that soon had her begging for succor. But Ethan wanted to see her topple over the edge. He wanted to feel her clenching around him...and so he sucked, hard , at the nipple he still held captive, his thumb finding and rubbing over her clit almost brusquely.

Carmen came apart with a sharp cry, her curvaceous form jerking against him as sensation suffused her body. The look on her face... he lived for that look. He hungered for it. There were few things in the world more beautiful than a woman’s face suffused with pleasure.

She was still trembling when he lifted her into his arms to make his way to the nearest flat surface - which happened to be a leather couch. But Carmen was never one to lie idle, even when she was recovering from a blissful high. She reached for him even as he straddled her atop the sofa, and the moment her fingers closed around his cock, a low hiss of ecstasy escaped him.

This was what he had been waiting for all day...something to drown out the doldrums of his workday and burn everything else away so he could just feel .

Though she was tugging him upwards in an attempt to have him inside her, Ethan had other plans. He situated himself between her thighs, tugging them apart a moment before he lifted her hips bodily from the sofa. Carmen’s breathless laugh of delight echoed through the living room for a moment before it was cut off by a moan of delectation as he mouthed her roughly where she needed it most.

He wasn’t left to his own devices for long - which Carmen most likely wouldn’t have been able to withstand anyway. Ethan could have gladly kept up the attentions of his talented tongue for the rest of the night, but his chosen partner had other plans.

“Ethan-God!” She squirmed in his grip as he lapped at her hungrily. “Just fuck me, for God’s sake!”

He had never been one to refuse a lady.

Ethan, using his superior strength, flipped her over onto her stomach. Almost immediately, Carmen raised her delectable behind into the air and he groaned, kneading it for a moment before smacking the plump, inviting flesh indulgently. He shucked off his suit jacket and shoved his slacks down just enough to slam home within her, and Carmen’s cry of pleasure rang around the apartment.

He did just as she had asked of him, working up a jacking rhythm - fucking her almost mindlessly until they were both lost to raw need.

He took her on the couch, against the wall, and then on the kitchen table - with a small pang of guilt at the shining Rosita had given it earlier. By the time the pair was finally spent, it was the wee hours of the morning - and Ethan was starving.

He ordered from a deli down the street - even as Carmen lamented over the loss of her grand seafood spread, before joining her in bed. Thankfully, she didn’t want to cuddle or make lovey-dovey - he wasn’t good at that kind of stuff anyway. After a lingering kiss at the base of his neck that almost roused him to attention again, Carmen stalked back to the living room, naked and glorious, to check her e-mails on her phone.

Ethan did likewise - it wasn’t usual for Vlad to send him something in the middle of the night and expect that he had checked it by the next morning. At the sight of an upcoming notification, he frowned.

Shit.

He couldn’t believe he had almost forgotten.

“What’s put that look on your face.” Carmen returned in short order with her phone, distracting him for a moment with her magnificent breasts. “And don’t tell me it’s the sex, because I’d know you’re lying.”

Her snark brought a momentary smirk to his face. Indeed, there wasn’t a single thing wrong with the sex - it pained him that he would momentarily have to put the sex aside. “Nothing important.” He tossed his phone on the bedside table with a frown. “Just a family event coming up. Not looking forward to the planning stages. Means we won’t be talking for a while.”

Carmen arched a brow as she took a sip of water from the bottle she’d swiped from the fridge. “How long is a while?”

Ethan shrugged, swiping the bottle from her to take a long gulp. “Dunno for sure. A couple weeks?”

“Is it the charity thing?” Carmen arched a brow in inquiry, her expression carefully casual. But he saw right through her in a heartbeat.

The charity thing to which she so lightly referred was the Children’s Charity Ball - one of the most exclusive yearly events in the city - made so by the fifteen-hundred-dollar buy-in per plate. This, of course, wasn’t to benefit the charity staff itself. Every penny went towards supporting orphans all around the world. It was a cause near and dear to Jackson Kensley’s heart. Every year, Ethan’s father liked to do things up in style. “Taking other people’s money to funnel it to where it’s really needed,” he called it - and the fact of the matter was that he paid for most of the ball accoutrement himself. The donations all went to the cause itself. Jackson wouldn’t have it any other way.

Being a Kensley son, Ethan went every year - his entire family went every year; at least, whoever was stateside. But tickets, despite being as expensive as all get-out, usually sold out within the first few days that they were announced and, shortly after, people started doing anything they could to get admission. As casually as she acted about it, Carmen would probably kill to get in.

Ethan wasn’t black hearted. In a perfect world, he’d offer Carmen an in. She would certainly look good on his arm at any high-class function. The caveat in this particular case was that his family would be in attendance - and Ethan knew better than to show up anywhere with a woman on his arm when his father was involved. Jackson would be all over him like white on rice, and then he’d have to go through the process of explaining to his father that it wasn’t like that, he didn’t want to get married right now, he was still young - yadda, yadda, yadda.

“Yeah,” he finally answered Carmen with a matching casual air. “Boring beyond boring, I know. Somehow, I’ll survive.” He did his best to pretend he didn’t see her crestfallen expression. This, he knew, would disappoint her, which might make her reluctant to deal with him in the future.

It was something he’d dealt with a hundred times, and, somehow, he would weather it now.

If he was lucky, Carmen would let him call her again. If he wasn’t, well...there were plenty of other fish in the sea.

**

As Ethan might have expected, the next few weeks were some of the most hectic of the year. His workload was always heavier in January and February, and atop that, he had to help plan the upcoming charity ball.

Luckily, when it came to aesthetic choices, his mother was more than willing to help out. In fact, Ethan went from seeing her once a month or so to stumbling across her every day when he went to check on the charity ball. He knew that she sometimes felt a bit isolated at home when her husband continued to work himself into an early grave and her sons had all left the nest. This was cathartic for her - and his father liked having her around.

Thankfully, Ethan wasn’t treated to too many days of their lovey-dovey behavior at the venue or in the main offices before the night of the event finally arrived. After six weeks of being run ragged, Ethan finally allowed himself a moment to relax. After all, by this point, all the figures had been run, and all that was left for him to do was relax and enjoy the party.

And what a party it was.

Olivia Kensley had outdone herself as head of the decorating committee. The MET’s main ballroom was decked out in hues of rose gold and cobalt blue - the colors of the charity to which they were donating. Impeccably dressed waiters with trays of champagne and canapes circled around the pre-dinner crowd. The attendees themselves were one of two groups - those who thought it was their God-given right to be there, and those who couldn’t believe where they found themselves. Ethan greatly preferred to mingle with the latter. Despite growing up the son of a successful multi-billionaire, as well as being host to his own, self-made fortune, the vast majority of people with money made his stomach curdle.

His father called it Too rich for their britches , and the phrase had made Ethan laugh since he was a child. Jackson Kensley made certain that no son of his was too rich for their britches. They each had a chore list growing up and they only got allowances when all their chores had been done. If any of them thought they would just coast by on their father’s name, they’d quickly been proved wrong.

To be fair, Ethan thought they’d grown up well. To be standing where he was today was enough to put a smile on his face - and all his brothers had similar stories.

But, of course, Vlad wasn’t smiling. When Ethan all but ran into him, he sighed at the look of suffering on Vladimir’s face. He had never liked social functions, and atop that, Alistair told Ethan that Vlad had just gotten some very intimidating news: Their father was slated to retire within the year, and Vladimir would take his place.

Of course, that was no surprise to anyone in the Kensley family, but Vladimir. Despite being one of the most efficient men Ethan had ever met, had a crippling fear of failure; something about worrying he would sully the name of the family that had taken him in. Of course, he never listened to all of them telling him that was impossible. The man had never missed a day of work in his life. But tonight, he was determined to frown his way through one of the best evenings of the year.

“Well, you look absolutely miserable.”

Vlad rolled his eyes - somehow the dark-haired man managed to make even that imposing. “I’m not miserable. I can just think of a hundred other things I could be doing to prepare for my trip to Los Angeles.”

Ethan arched a brow incredulously. “What the hell does this have to do with Los Angeles? Vlad, this is about tonight. You’re not going to LA for weeks.”

“I have a ton to finish before I leave,” Vlad’s blue eyes all but gleamed with worry. “It will take me ages.”

“Dude,” Ethan clapped him on both shoulders. “You need to take a chill pill, Vlad. Kick back - relax. This is supposed to be a party. Don’t you need to take a breather?”

“Not when there’s work to do.”

Ethan sighed, long-sufferingly. He shouldn’t have bothered to ask. When it came to work, Vlad was completely and totally single-minded. He acted as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders which technically, in many ways he did. It wasn’t, however, as if he didn’t have a decidedly large family to support him in any endeavor he might seek to pursue.

“Vlad,” Ethan squeezed his shoulders firmly, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you need a woman.” It was something their father might say - even though Ethan meant it in a completely different way.

Vlad groaned, taking hold of Ethan’s hand to remove it. “The answer is always a woman with you, Ethan. Some of us are built differently, you know.”

The last time Ethan checked, all men were the same. Wired a bit differently, for sure, but the build was never an issue. Of course, he didn’t expect Vlad to find a girl to let off some steam with just because Ethan told him to. Especially not with LA and Father’s retirement hanging over his head. Even under the best of circumstances, Vladimir wasn’t the kind of man who went out to bars and picked up women. It just wasn’t his style.

Didn’t hurt to suggest a bit of a different approach, though. “Just don’t worry yourself into an early grave, ok, Vlad?”

Vlad merely grunted in reply, grabbing a glass of champagne from a nearby waitress before stalking off into the crowd. It wasn’t long before he was overtaken by the family of a major investor in the company, and Ethan only hoped that maybe they would be able to cheer his brother up a bit.

It was nice to see the people he spent time with in the office let their hair down - have the investors come down from on high and spend time with the little people. Ethan always thoroughly enjoyed hobnobbing with the city’s elite. He did this as much to make fun of them as he did to observe them, thankful that the Kensleys were so very different.

Having had quite a few glasses of champagne before dinner, Ethan was pleased to be seated between his mother and a very attractive brunette. When he began to lean towards her, however, Olivia Kensley squeezed his hand. She looked resplendent in a red ball gown - just as attractive in her sixties as she had been twenty years earlier. “Married, dove. And her husband is very possessive.”

Call him a scoundrel, but he wasn’t the type that let marriage get in the way. He didn’t want to replace any woman’s husband, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t oblige a lady if she threw herself at him.

It would be rude, in fact.

But his mother was right - a dinner table packed with New York’s elite was hardly the place or the time. When he caught Olivia’s eye with a sheepish grin, she merely sighed. “I’m sure this isn’t what your father meant when he told you to pick a nice woman and settle down.”

Ethan made a face, even as his mother reached out to straighten the collar of the starched shirt he wore beneath his impeccable black tuxedo. “Mother, I’m thirty. I can’t just produce grandchildren on demand.”

“That is not what he meant, Ethan,” Olivia sighed, “for God’s sake.” But then they were cut off when dinner service started. Jackson Kensley himself sat at the head of the table, a few seats away, flanked on his right by Vladimir and his left by Lucas - his youngest son. Lucas looked just as in awe of his position as several guests who were probably coveting it; but anyone who knew anything about Jackson Kensley knew that he valued his family above all else - and it always showed.

Dinner was delicious, as it always was - five full courses of the things his father most liked to eat, such as garlic chicken with rosemary potatoes, and grilled asparagus salad. Ethan couldn’t complain, as he, and most of the table, came away completely satiated, fully prepared for the list of speeches and recognitions of donation that were to come afterward.

“What was Mum scolding you about?” Lucas managed to sneak up on him as they were reconvening in the ballroom, and Ethan merely grinned at him. Since they were younger, Ethan liked to tease Lucas about the remnants of his British accent. Even at the age of 28, it hadn’t quite disappeared. In truth, as a teenager, Ethan had been slightly envious of it. Unlike Lucas and his other brothers, Ethan had been born and bred on American soil. There was nothing exotic or interesting about him. At least, in his opinion.

“None of your business,” Ethan jibed playfully, elbowing his brother in the side. Despite being younger, Lucas was of equal size, and the blonde man took it like a champ.

“Enjoyed basking in the limelight, sitting next to Dad at the head of the table, did you?”, Ethan asked.

Lucas’s wide green eyes took on the expression of a deer in headlights. “I don’t know how you guys stand it. Everyone looking at you. Everyone whispering.”

“Well, Vlad doesn’t stand it. He hides away and leaves the rest of us to tackle his media absence.” Ethan jibed. “Maybe you should take a leaf from his book.”

“Ethan,” Lucas frowned, “You know Vlad has his...issues.”

“Somewhere, there’s an entire volume written on Vladimir’s issues,” Ethan returned with a small smirk, “but we won’t address that now.” His expression softened somewhat. “You think he’s going to be alright? He’s walking around like a goddamned zombie. News of Dad’s retirement hit him pretty hard.”

“He’ll be fine.” Lucas’s lips curved upward into a confident smile. “Probably the most stressed he’s ever been in his life. Vlad’s only reacting accordingly.”

“Yes, well...maybe I should tell him Dad’s considering Alistair as CEO. That might turn him around pretty quickly.”

Lucas’s expression turned to one of horror. Their eldest brother’s temper and propensity for daredevil stunts was legendary. When they were younger, he had told his father that he would sit in an office and be beholden to stockholders over his dead body. Jackson had only laughed at this proclamation. Anyone with an ounce of thinking power knew better than to try and tie Alistair down in an office. He belonged outdoors, doing all the crazy stuff he liked - which was why he was head of land acquisition.

And damned good at his job.

Speaking of someone damned good at her job...Ethan was eying the decorative chair who had worked with his mother. She was about two decades younger and wearing a dress that showed off her awe-inspiring chest to the hilt. He must have been staring, as Lucas smacked his arm in reproach, a knowing smile playing about his mouth. “Don’t get into too much trouble, Ethan.”

The light-haired man chuckled, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “You should get into more trouble, Lucas. I’m sure it would serve you well.”

Any further conversation they might have had was cut off when their father stepped up to the podium to make his speech.

Even in his seventies, Jackson Kensley cut an imposing figure in his starched suit and tie. He stood tall and proud, at the podium, gazing over everyone assembled there. When he spoke, he didn’t need a microphone for his voice to resound through the ballroom.

“Thank you to all my esteemed guests, my friends and my family - everyone in attendance who helped make this night an event to remember. I am always heartened to see so many of us come together to help those in need.”

That, Ethan knew, was not the primary reason most people had come to the event. They came to see and be seen - but that was beside the point. Their money was still going to a good cause.

“Every year,” Jackson went on, “I travel the world for both business and pleasure. Both in our own country and abroad, I see the difficulty that orphaned children endure. It is imperative that we help provide for those children who can’t provide for themselves, so that they might lead bright and prosperous futures.”

Polite applause greeted this statement - with a few pockets of strength from those people who actually believed in the cause to which they donated. Ethan and his brothers applauded the most heartily of all - with good reason.

“As all of you know,” Jackson went on, his expression simultaneously solemn and proud. “Each of my five sons was adopted. Their circumstances were different, and, as men, they are vastly different people, but all they required was an opportunity to shine. They make me prouder than I can imagine every single day - even if they continue to grind my nerves on an off day every once in a while.”

That incited a smattering of chuckles and Lucas caught Ethan’s eye with a grin. Vlad was off in a corner somewhere, no doubt lamenting that he would ever cause their father any trouble. Toshiro was God knew where -Switzerland, the last Ethan heard, and Alistair was, no doubt, jumping into the Grand Canyon. It was a shame, as both of them could appreciate a good party.

“I implore you,” Jackson continued, his expression turning serious once more, “to educate yourselves on the state of our young people. In many cases, these children come from broken families. Abusive families. Parents who can’t put food on the table...or some convoluted combination of the three.”

His words stirred unwelcome memories in Ethan, and the young man frowned, his champagne glass stilling halfway to his mouth. Thoughts of his biological mother were rare these days, but he still got them - floating in like a disease in his subconscious. Though she was the one who had given birth to him, Ethan had long stopped considering her his mother . Olivia Kensley was the woman who taught him what having a proper mother was like. She was the balm that soothed his exhausted soul when, at the tender age of eight, he’d been scooped up from a nasty foster family.

He shuddered at the mere memory before downing his entire glass of champagne. He didn’t want to think about this. He always got into a funk when he thought of his life before the Kensleys, and that was the last thing he wanted now.

Ethan was, in fact, so wrapped up in the past that he barely heard the rest of his father’s speech. He barely snapped back to the present in time for Jackson to thank everyone for coming again. Ethan applauded automatically, taking a fresh glass of champagne from the first waiter he could find.

At times like this, he needed a good stiff drink, and a warm, soft woman. He knew from experience that when his past started creeping in, there was only one sure-fire way to banish the unwanted memories.

While Lucas went to congratulate their father on raising over five million dollars, Ethan made a beeline for the dessert table, where several beauties had already congregated. He made small talk with one of the premier attorneys in the city nearby - suspecting the man had the same intent that he did. All the while, Ethan watched a particularly gorgeous blonde out of the corner of his eye. She was there with her husband, it seemed, laughing while he suggested various desserts to her.

Usually, when a woman was married, he wasn’t the one to initiate contact. He let them come to him.

But the memories plaguing him unsettled him enough to make him bold. The moment the man left her - which no good husband, he justified to himself, would really do, Ethan excused himself from his conversation with the attorney and sidled over to her. He admired her long, slender legs in the short cocktail dress she wore for a moment before addressing her. “Big sweet tooth, huh?”

The woman lifted her head to fix him with breathtaking cornflower blue eyes and Ethan’s gut twisted in raw desire. When she smiled, it was slow and inviting. “Maybe a little bigger than most. You’ve got quite the spread here, Mr. Kensley.”

It seemed his reputation preceded him. That could be good or bad, really, depending on what kind of woman he was dealing with. “Well, we like to have a little of everything. Never really know what people’s tastes will be.”

“I see.” The blonde took up a saucer of creme brulee, breaking the crystallized sugar crust with a small silver spoon before taking a lingering bite. Ethan forced himself not to watch her like a starved man - despite his desperation. “I’m Loretta, by the way.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Loretta.” He extended his hand for her to shake and the young woman laughed, taking it briefly.

“Are you this charming with all the ladies, Mr. Kensley?”

She had no idea.

“Only with the ones I can’t take my eyes off of.”

Loretta chuckled softly, taking another bite of her dessert. “And tell me, would it happen to deter you if one of your conquests was spoken for?” Well, she’d come right out and said it. She was astute - up front. He liked that in a woman.

“If it doesn’t bother her,” he answered lowly, taking a step closer to her, “It doesn’t bother me.”

Loretta’s intrigued smile turned to one of blatant amusement as she arched a brow. “And if it did matter to her?”

Fuck . Had he read this entire situation wrong? Ethan had been so sure this woman was giving him all the signs he looked for. It was possible, he supposed, that his mood had thrown his entire game off. Ethan didn’t know quite how to answer her inquiry, so he merely eyed her in desirous query.

Possibility turned to certainty the moment Loretta finished her dessert, handing the empty dish to a passing waiter. “As tempting as your offer is, Mr. Kensley, I’m spoken for - and I like to keep things monogamous.”

Ethan’s heart sank. Well, that was that. He supposed the chase, at least, had been exciting. As much as he wanted to run his hands over her decadent curves, he knew that pushing Loretta any further would be blatantly disrespectful - and he had never gone quite that far where a woman was concerned. “You’ll have to forgive me, then, Loretta.” A bit of his desperation faded in lieu of embarrassment. He didn’t think he’d ever been turned down so...politely.

The blonde merely grinned, reaching past him to select another dessert. As she did, she brushed past him, and Ethan swallowed a groan at the feel of her ample hips whispering past his own. “You know, Mr. Kensley, I was really rooting for you and the ballerina.” She straightened to daintily nibble on the corner of a petit-four.

Ballerina?

Fuck . It had been a while since anyone mentioned that.

About two years ago, he had dated Sylvia Martin, a prima ballerina for the New York Ballet. It was the closest he’d gotten to a relationship in a while. He slept with her exclusively, took her out to every public function and, at one point, had even contemplated introducing her to his parents. Contemplated being the key word. In the end, he found out that she had been shaking up with one of her fellow dancers and she and Ethan had parted ways. Ethan had been surprised at just how relieved he was. He had liked Sylvia, but he certainly hadn’t loved her.

She was, however, the woman he’d been seen with the most in recent years, so he supposed that it wasn’t that unusual that her name came up. “Yeah, well, I was rooting for us for a while too,” he replied. He chose a dessert himself, placating his body with sugar for the time being.

“I know this is going to sound silly,” Loretta glanced up at him hesitatingly before continuing. “But have you ever considered having someone help you find a partner?”

At the very notion, Ethan snorted with laughter. Did they even do that anymore? This was 2017, for God’s sake.

Thankfully, instead of being offended, Loretta took his reaction in stride. “I know it sounds insane ...but a woman matched me with my husband. It was eerie how fast we clicked. Almost like she was psychic.”

Ethan was more thankful by the minute that he hadn’t slept with this woman. He couldn’t see a conversation about matchmaking and fated love going well between them. To her merit, however, Loretta didn’t come off as overly invested in the idea of star-crossed lovers.

Just the matchmaker herself.

“I know it’s not my place to tell you anything about women,” Loretta laughed softly, “But you might want to try giving her a call. Just for shits and giggles. Couldn’t hurt, right?”

He was sure that it could, at the very least, hurt his wallet. He’d heard about so-called modern matchmakers a handful of times, and they weren’t cheap. He couldn’t imagine having to pay to get laid. He didn’t have any problems finding compatible women on his own. What could a matchmaker possibly do for him?

“I can tell you’re enthusiastic about the idea,” Loretta teased at his skeptical expression. She reached into the small evening bag beneath her arm to fish out a single red business card, which she extended to him with two fingers. “Just take it. Doesn’t mean you have to call it, or anything, but it might be nice to have in your repertoire .

Ethan stared at the card for a brief moment before taking it with no small amount of reluctance. He read the name on the front:

Harper Jones

Discover Your Perfect Match

Call to reserve your free consultation.

It sounded like complete and utter bullshit.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have any more time to debate the pros and cons of hiring a matchmaker with Loretta, as her husband returned - and he didn’t look happy to see Ethan by her side, Kensley or not. The light-haired man beat a quick retreat to find another glass of champagne.

And start the hunt for another conquest.

He tucked the card Loretta had passed him into his jacket pocket and promptly forgot about it. After all, Ethan had much bigger fish to fry.