Chapter Seven

  Ethan

The town car glided smoothly out of Manhattan, the skyline shrinking in the rearview mirror as they headed toward Connecticut. Ethan kept his tablet open on his lap, pretending to review quarterly distributor reports, but his focus was broken. Julian sat beside him in the back seat, laptop balanced on his knees, brow slightly furrowed in concentration. The younger man’s presence filled the confined space in a way that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. Ethan hadn’t insisted on the short business trip without reason. The private meeting with Harrington Distributors was too important to miss if they wanted favorable placement on the fall list.

Bringing Julian along made  sense, sought of.  His insights into the manuscript’s emotional core could strengthen their pitch. That was the official reasoning. The truth was more complicated.

 Ethan wanted to observe Julian in a different environment, away from the familiar walls of the Cross Media tower. He needed to test whether the tension between them was confined to those late sessions or if it followed them everywhere.

After nearly forty minutes of silence broken only by the low hum of the engine, Ethan finally spoke.

“You’ve been unusually quiet,” he said, closing his tablet. “Nervous about the meeting?”

Julian looked up, hazel eyes calm and thoughtful. Ethan felt the familiar jolt in his chest. It was ridiculous, really, how a single look from Julian could still leave him momentarily unsteady. Julian closed his laptop and turned to face him more directly, and Ethan found himself lingering on that gaze a beat longer than necessary. “Not quite nervous”, anxious, maybe. I mean, this is your world, distributors and market strategist, they’re all strange to me. I’m a freelance writer who was drowning in rejection emails two weeks ago. He laughed awkwardly. “I don’t just want to say the wrong thing and undermine your credibility”. He finished.

The honest answer threw Ethan off his guard. Most people in his orbit either flattered him or tried to impress him. Julian simply stated the truth with a quiet self awareness.

“You won’t, Ethan said, voice measured. Your writing never feels forced, it feels real, like you understand it from inside out. Help them see why this story matters. People are tired of perfect characters and neatly crafted lines, they’ll connect with something that feels genuine.

Julian’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “High praise coming from you. I’ll do my best not to embarrass the project.”

They fell into a surprisingly natural conversation after that. Julian asked intelligent questions about the distributor’s preferences and past successful campaigns. Ethan found himself explaining more than he usually would— the difficulty of getting literary fiction noticed, the value of finding the right comparison titles, and the fine line between preserving a story’s heart and making it marketable. Julian listened carefully, then every so often offered an insight that was so sharp it caught Ethan off guard. More than once, Ethan found himself rethinking his own assumptions, and wondering how Julian always seemed to see things everyone else missed.

By the time they arrived at the private estate overlooking Long Island Sound, Ethan felt a reluctant respect deepening. Julian was not just talented. He was proving to be adaptable and perceptive.  The kind of mind that could challenge Ethan without being reckless.

The meeting itself went better than expected. Ethan led with his usual commanding presence, laying out the vision for the fall list. When the distributors asked about the manuscript’s unique angle, Julian stepped in smoothly.

“The protagonist isn’t just hiding a secret,” Julian explained, his voice steady and engaging. “He’s terrified that once he lets himself feel everything he’s denied, he’ll never be able to go back to the version of himself the world expects. That kind of internal war,the push and pull between desire and self-preservation, is what makes the story feel urgent. Readers will see themselves in that struggle.”

Ethan watched the distributors lean forward, nodding. Julian’s contribution landed perfectly, insightful without overshadowing Ethan’s authority. For the rest of the meeting, Ethan found himself hyper-aware of Julian beside him: the way he sat with quiet confidence, the subtle gestures of his hands when emphasizing a point, the way his hazel eyes lit up when discussing character motivation.

After the meeting concluded with a promising commitment from the distributors, they drove to the boutique hotel. Separate rooms, of course. Ethan spent the early evening on follow-up calls, then met Julian for a light dinner in the hotel’s elegant restaurant overlooking the water.

Richard Harrington, the lead distributor, a polished man in his early forties with sharp features and effortless charm had insisted on joining them. Ethan had agreed at the time, seeing it as good business. Now, as they sat at the private table, he regretted it.

Richard barely took his eyes off Julian.

So, Julian,” Richard said warmly as he refilled Julian’s wine glass with attentive care, “how does a talent like you end up working so closely with someone like Ethan Cross? Most writers would kill for that kind of direct access.” And the gossip lately surrounding the Cross House, which is ridiculous by the way” he stated. “It’s not too much pressure right?”

Julian smiled politely, keeping his tone professional. “I was fortunate. Mr. Cross saw potential in the manuscript and offered the contract. I’m grateful for the opportunity to develop it under his guidance.” “And the gossip is ridiculous like you said” he finished with a sip of his wine. 

Richard leaned in, eyes sparkling with clear interest. “Fortunate for us, I’d say. Your insights today were refreshing. Most writers talk about plot points. You talk about the feeling and  the vulnerability that comes with it, the hunger beneath the surface. It’s compelling. I can see why Ethan keeps you so close.”

Ethan’s grip on his wine glass tightened. A hot, unfamiliar twist of jealousy coiled in his stomach. Richard was flirting openly now, the lingering looks, the way he refilled Julian’s glass, the compliments that went beyond professional appreciation. Ethan’s jaw clenched. He forced his expression to remain neutral, but inside, irritation burned.

Julian remained composed and oblivious. “Thank you. I’m just trying to make the character feel real. Readers respond to vulnerability when it’s carefully earned”.

Richard chuckled, his gaze lingering on Julian’s mouth. “You have a gift for making vulnerability feel… desirable. I’d love to discuss this further sometime. Perhaps over dinner in the city when you’re back? I know some excellent spots that aren’t overrun by industry people.”

Ethan’s chest burned. He set his glass down with controlled precision, his voice cutting in coldly.

“Julian’s schedule is quite full for the duration of the contract,” Ethan interjected, tone sharp and commanding. “We have tight deadlines. I prefer to keep him focused on the manuscript.”

Richard raised an eyebrow, glancing between them with mild surprise. “Of course. I didn’t mean to overstep. Just… impressed by his work. He smiled awkwardly.

The rest of dinner continued with surface-level conversation, but Ethan’s mood had soured completely. Every time Richard directed a compliment or question at Julian, Ethan felt the jealousy sharpen. He told himself it was the protectiveness of the project. Professional concern. But deep down, he knew the truth: the thought of another man showing open interest in Julian unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

Fuck, he really needed to get laid.

When the dinner finally ended and Richard bid them goodnight with a lingering handshake for Julian and a polite nod for Ethan, Ethan remained silent on the short walk back to their rooms.

At Julian’s door, Ethan paused, his voice low and edged.

“Richard seemed quite taken with you”. The words were out before Ethan could stop them. The realization sat uneasily with him. Someone else’s interest in Julian should have been none of his concern. If anything, it was reassuring. Richard seemed thoughtful, charming, and genuinely interested in him. And this could take away the nuisance that gossip would have caused.

Yet the idea tugged at something unpleasant deep in Ethan’s chest.He tried to dismiss it, Clearing his throat, he looked up and caught Julain’s gaze.

Julian met his eyes, calmly. “He was nice. I kept the conversation on the manuscript. That’s all.”

Ethan’s gaze lingered on Julian’s face, the sharp line of his jaw, the steady hazel eyes. The jealousy still simmered beneath his skin,mixing with the persistent attraction he had been fighting since their first night.

“Good,” Ethan said finally, forcing the word out. “We have an early start tomorrow. Get some rest.”

He turned and walked to his own room, closing the door with more force than necessary.

Alone, Ethan poured himself a whiskey and stood by the window, staring out at the dark water. The day had been successful. The distributor deal was strong. Yet all he could think about was the way Richard had looked at Julian. The lingering compliments that brought easy laughter and the casual invitation to dinner.

Ethan took a long sip, the burn doing little to ease the tension in his chest.

Julian was his contractor. His responsibility. His…

He stopped the thought before it could fully form.

He still had control.

But watching another man show interest in what felt increasingly like his had made that control feel dangerously fragile.