I met Ethan’s gaze steadily. “That won’t be necessary,” I said, my voice carrying in the quiet room. “His stakes weren’t interesting enough to bother.” I gestured dismissively toward Chase, who looked both relieved and slightly offended.


    <b>58 </b>


    A sh of what might have been disappointment crossed Ethan’s face before he straightened, adjusting his perfectly tailored jacket with a practiced flick of his wrists. “A pity,” he said. “I was willing to be quite generous.”


    “I should go say hello to President Thornton,” Ethan said, his professional mask sliding back into ce. “I’ll return shortly.” The promise in his voice was unmistakable.


    As Ethan walked away, Connor following close behind like a well–trained shadow, Chase moved back to my side. “What the fuck was that?” he hissed, his eyes wide. “You and Haxton? How? When?” His voice cracked slightly on the


    “We’re friends,” I said simply, enjoying his confusion.


    “Friends?” Chase repeated incredulously. “Ethan Haxton doesn’t have friends. Especially not-” He caught himself, but I knew what he’d been about to say. <i>Especially </i><i>not </i><i>women</i>.


    “Rumors of his celibacy are greatly exaggerated,” I said dryly, watching with amusement as Chase’s eyes bulged.


    Chase’s jaw worked silently, trying to process this information. His eyes darted to Ethan, who was now speaking with Philip and the others, his back straight, his gestures measured and precise. “I don’t understand. How did you-”


    “Look,” I cut him off, “it’s notplicated. We met, we talked, we foundmon ground.”


    Chase still looked like he’d been hit by a truck, but before he could ask more questions, Ethan was returning, this time with Connor carrying a long rectangr box made of polished wood with silver fittings.


    “For you,” Ethan said, as Connor opened the box to reveal a bottle of wine nestled in deep blue velvet. “Romanée-


    Conti, 1947.


    Connor’s hands trembled slightly as he handled the priceless bottle, his eyes widening as he realized what he was holding. A small gasp escaped him, quickly suppressed.


    I epted the ss Ethan offered after pouring a small amount. The ruby liquid caught the light, sending tiny reflections dancing across my hand. I took a sip, letting theplex vors unfold on my tongue–berries, earth, a hint of spice, and something indefinable that spoke of decades in the cer. “Not bad,” I said. “You have good taste, Mr. Haxton.”


    Connor’s jaw literally dropped. Not bad? The bottle was worth more than most people’s houses.


    Ethan moved to pour me another ss, but I ced my hand over the rim. “I’m driving,” I exined, our fingers brushing briefly.


    Edward approached us, his smile bright but his eyes curious. “They’re about to bring out the cake. Won’t you join us? His invitation seemed genuine, but I could see the questions forming behind his eyes.


    I shook my head. “I should be going,” I said, feeling the weight of too many curious eyes on me. I’ve had enough socializing for one night.” I turned to Philip. “Thank you for the invitation, President Thornton. Happy birthday.”


    Philip looked disappointed but nodded graciously. “Of course, my dear. Thank you foring.”


    Ethan checked his watch. “I should be going as well.” He nodded to Philip and the others, all politeness and


    propriety once more.


    Outside, Connor brought Ethan’s car around–a sleek ck Maybach that purred at the curb. Ethan paused before getting in, clearly waiting for someone.


    Before he could leave, the purr of a high–performance engine cut through the night.


    Connor’s head poked out of Ethan’s car window. “Holy shit…” he breathed, eyes wide with automotive lust.


    “Need a ride?” I asked Ethan, my lips curving into a slight smile.


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