CHAPTER FOUR — ROUND TWO

Ethan hadn’t moved for almost a minute.

The city beyond the glass wall glowed silver, cars threading through the night like veins of light, and still he stared at the photo on his phone — that quiet, accidental moment now turned into ammunition.

Next leak drops tomorrow. Ready for round two?

A soft knock broke the silence.

He didn’t answer.

The door opened anyway. “You didn’t go home,” Noah said. He was still in his shirt from earlier, sleeves rolled, tie gone, exhaustion in every line of his face.

Ethan looked up. “You got the same message?”

Noah nodded, holding out his phone. Same photo. Same caption.

Ethan exhaled. “Whoever this is, they’re close. That picture was taken here. At night.”

“I checked the building logs,” Noah said. “No cleaning crew since seven. Security cameras didn’t flag anyone.”

“So whoever did this,” Ethan said quietly, “doesn’t need to be flagged.”

Their eyes met realization clicking in both of them.

“Someone inside,” Noah murmured.

Ethan nodded. “Someone with clearance.”

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Noah crossed the room and sank into the chair opposite him. “You should sleep.”

Ethan let out a humorless laugh. “You think I can?”

“You should try. You’re starting to sound like him.”

That landed harder than Noah intended. Ethan’s expression shuttered. “Don’t compare me to my father.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did,” Ethan said, voice low but even. “And maybe you’re right. Maybe I am turning into him.”

Noah leaned forward. “You’re not.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’ve worked with you for four years, Ethan. I’ve seen you lose your temper, ruin meetings, fire people you shouldn’t have, but I’ve never seen you enjoy hurting someone. That’s the difference.”

Ethan studied him. “You make me sound almost decent.”

“You’re not almost. You just hide it too well.”

Something flickered behind Ethan’s eyes a tiny, unguarded softness. “And you, Noah Bennett, hide behind sarcasm.”

“I’m good at it.”

“I’ve noticed.”

The air between them shifted quieter now, charged in a different way. Outside, thunder rolled somewhere beyond the skyline.

Noah finally asked, “What are you going to do about the leak?”

Ethan stood and walked toward the window. “Find out who’s behind it. Make them regret it.”

“Typical CEO answer.”

“It’s the only one I know.”

Noah rose too. “You don’t have to handle it alone.”

Ethan turned. “You saying that as my assistant, or as my fiancé?”

Noah’s heartbeat jumped. “Does it matter?”

“Maybe it does.”

He took a step closer. Then another. The space between them shrank until Noah could see the faint tension in Ethan’s jaw, the fatigue under his eyes.

Ethan’s voice dropped. “They’re going to come after you harder now. If you want out, I’ll understand.”

Noah shook his head. “You don’t get rid of me that easily.”

A hint of a smile touched Ethan’s mouth. “Stubborn.”

“Someone has to be.”

Lightning flashed outside, painting the room in pale light. Neither of them looked away.

Ethan’s voice softened. “You should go home before it gets worse.”

Noah hesitated, then said quietly, “Or I could stay. We could work on the statements together.”

Ethan blinked. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Exactly. Less chance of interruptions.”

Ethan studied him for a long second, then nodded. “Fine. Coffee?”

“Please,” Noah said, relief in his voice.

Ethan walked to the small espresso machine by the shelf, poured two cups, and handed one over. Their fingers brushed; Noah felt the jolt like static.

He covered it with a joke. “You really think caffeine is going to help?”

“It always helps.”

They worked for hours rewriting talking points, setting up a plan for the next day. The storm outside intensified, rain streaking down the glass. At some point, Noah’s voice grew hoarse, and Ethan pushed a mug of water toward him without a word.

At 2 a.m., Noah leaned back in the chair. “We’ve got everything covered except one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“The picture.” Noah looked at him. “If they release it, people will think it’s real.”

Ethan gave a small shrug. “Let them.”

“You don’t care?”

“I should,” he admitted. “But I don’t. For once, the noise feels easier than silence.”

Noah’s chest tightened. “You really hate being alone, don’t you?”

Ethan’s eyes met his. “Don’t you?”

The question landed like a confession.

Noah didn’t answer. The room was too still, too fragile. The rain was the only sound.

Finally, Ethan said, “We’ll figure this out. Tomorrow.”

Noah nodded, gathering the papers. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

He started toward the door, but Ethan’s voice stopped him. “Noah.”

He turned.

“Thank you,” Ethan said quietly. “For staying.”

Noah’s throat felt suddenly dry. “You’re welcome.”

He hesitated, then added, “You don’t have to be alone tonight.”

Ethan’s gaze held a long, unreadable silence between them before he said, “Then don’t leave.”

Noah froze.

The thunder outside cracked again. The city lights flickered against the rain. Slowly, Noah walked back across the room.

Ethan didn’t move until Noah was close enough for their shoulders to almost touch. The air was thick with things neither of them were ready to name.

Ethan finally exhaled. “You should sleep.”

“On what, your marble floor?”

Ethan almost smiled. “The couch is more comfortable.”

They sat. Side by side. No words, no distance, just quiet understanding. The storm softened to a hum.

And somewhere between exhaustion and calm, Noah’s head found its way to Ethan’s shoulder again the same way it had in that leaked photo.

Only this time, Ethan didn’t move away.

By the time morning hit, the world was already on fire.

The leaked photo had spread like oxygen on a flame first T*****r, then every gossip blog that ever used the words billionaire heir and assistant.

#EthanandNoah trended for seven straight hours.

The photo of Ethan's hand brushing Noah’s shoulder, eyes soft, a storm behind the glass was everywhere. Commentators called it “romantic.” Others called it “scandalous.” The business blogs called it “career suicide.”

Ethan’s phone hadn’t stopped ringing since dawn. He’d turned it off after the twentieth missed call.

Now, sitting at the long conference table, he looked like a man who hadn’t slept, sleeves rolled, jaw tight, hair slightly out of place.

Across from him sat the board of Taylor Global Holdings twelve men and women whose expressions ranged from disapproval to panic.

Noah stood by the door, silent. He wasn’t supposed to be in this meeting, but Ethan hadn’t let him leave.