Chapter Five

Ethan

He was suffocating.

Ethan stared at the speakerphone as Lena’s words echoed through the room like a death sentence. Photos, Velvet bar, The night before Julian officially started. Gossip blogs, Entertainment sites are already picking it up. Each new detail landed like a calculated blow to the foundation he had spent twelve years reinforcing.

One night and One moment of weakness.

And now it threatened to unravel the empire he had built from his father’s legacy.

His mind, usually a steel trap of calculated moves and emergency plans, stuttered for one second.

How? 

His mind kept replaying that night with this question hovering around the memory. He had been so careful and now the desperate anonymous fuck in his penthouse which he had buried deep is threatening to spill into the world for everyone to see.

Julian sat frozen across the desk, his face pale, hazel eyes wide with shock. For the first time since their first meeting, the younger man looked genuinely rattled. Ethan felt an unwelcome twist in his chest,  part protectiveness, part irritation that Julian’s presence alone had already complicated everything.

Mr. Cross?” Lena’s voice came again, tense. “Are you still there? The story is gaining traction fast. Should I start drafting a denial statement?”

Ethan finally moved. He reached forward and ended the call with a sharp press of his finger, then slowly lifted his gaze to Julian.

“Explain,” Ethan said, his voice dangerously low and controlled. Every word was clipped, precise. The mask of the untouchable CEO was firmly back in place, even as his pulse hammered in his throat. “How the hell did photos of you leaving my building that night surface?”

Julian exhaled shakily, running a hand through his  hair. “I don’t know. I took a cab home. I didn’t see anyone with a camera. We were careful… or at least I thought we were.” He met Ethan’s eyes directly, intelligent and unflinching despite the panic. “This is bad, isn’t it?”

“Bad?” Ethan let out a harsh, humorless laugh as he stood up, towering behind his desk. “This could destroy everything I have built. My reputation. The company’s image. Cross Media is not some tabloid scandal waiting to happen. I am not some reckless playboy CEO who fucks his contractors.”

Julian flinched slightly at the crude words, but he didn’t look away. “I know that. I’m not trying to ruin your life, Ethan. I needed the job. You needed a writer. Neither of us planned for… whatever this is.”

Ethan paced slowly behind his desk, his mind racing through damage control scenarios. Deny everything. Say it was a professional meeting. Claim coincidence. But photos from that specific night? The timing was too suspicious. Someone had been watching.

He stopped and turned to Julian, gray eyes burning with intensity. “You understand what this means? If this story grows, the board will ask questions. Investors might pull back. Rivals will use it to try and poach you and undermine me. My entire public image could crumble”. His heart thudded desperately with every word spoken.

Julian stood up as well, facing him across the desk. There was no defiance in his posture, just quiet strength. “I get it. Your world is different from mine. You have galas and board meetings and perfect appearances. I have a studio apartment and overdue rent. But that doesn’t mean I’d throw you under the bus. You’re not the only one with an image to protect, I may not have your fame or influence, but I’m still a person, and this affects how people may see me too. Your reputation may be public property but mine is still mine”. Julian’s breath hitched slightly as he continued. “I’m not trying to ruin your life, Ethan”.

The honesty in Julian’s words hit harder than Ethan expected. He studied the man in front of him, the slight tremble in his hands, the way his sharp hazel eyes still held that perceptive intelligence even under pressure. The same eyes that had looked back at him with raw pleasure that first night. The same mouth that had featured so prominently in his private thoughts.

“Lena will release an immediate statement,” Ethan continued, voice colder now. “A professional late-night meeting to discuss your manuscript. Nothing more. You will continue your work as normal. We continue sessions as scheduled, but they stay strictly professional. No unnecessary personal remarks. No late nights unless absolutely required. Clear boundaries from this point forward. We  keep everything strictly professional moving forward. No personal comments…Nothing that could feed this story”.

Ethan’s gaze lingered a second too long on Julian’s mouth before he caught himself.

Julian listened without interruption, his expression thoughtful. When Ethan finished, he spoke with quiet conviction. . “I came here because I needed the opportunity, just like I said previously, not to destroy anyone’s life, I’ll follow whatever protocol you set. Professional meetings only. No comments outside this office.”

The professionalism in Julian’s response should have eased the knot in Ethan’s chest. Instead, it only sharpened his awareness of the man sitting before him. Julian was not crumbling under pressure. He was adapting. That quiet strength made him both an asset to the project and a far more dangerous complication than Ethan had anticipated.

Julian stood, gathering his laptop and notes with quiet efficiency. “Of course. I’ll send the next revisions by the end of the day.”

He paused at the door, hand on the handle, and glanced back. His expression was neutral, almost thoughtful.

“For what it’s worth,” Julian said calmly, “I have no interest in being the reason your empire collapses.” The door closed softly behind him.

Ethan remained standing in the center of his office for several long minutes, heart pounding, fists clenched at his sides. The weight of the situation pressed down on him ,the potential damage to his reputation, the company, the carefully curated life he had built after years of navigating his own hidden truths. He could already imagine the headlines, the whispers in the industry, the questions from the board. His ex-wife Sophia would probably find it amusing. Victoria would ask careful questions at the next gala. And the carefully maintained illusion he had built— well…

He walked over to the windows and stared out at the Manhattan skyline, the city lights blurring slightly in his vision. He walked back to his desk and sat down, pulling up the gossip blog on his computer. The photos were grainy but clear enough.  Julian leaving his building late at night. The timestamp matched. The speculation was already vicious.

Ethan rubbed his temple, exhaling slowly. He had navigated worse crises. He would handle this one too.

But beneath the calculations, a quieter thought lingered.

His body still ached with unresolved tension. The memory of Julian’s voice saying “sir,” the way his lips had moved when he spoke, the raw honesty in his eyes,  it all refused to fade.

He had spent years mastering control. Burying desires. Marrying Sophia because it was expected. Maintaining the perfect image.

Ethan closed the laptop and leaned back in his chair, eyes closing for a moment.

Control.

He needed to maintain control.

And now one man, a bold, perceptive, dangerously attractive writer who  was threatening to crack every wall he had built.

The worst part?

A dark, hungry part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to stop it.