Ethan finally tore his gaze away from the painting — a burst of silver and shadow that suddenly seemed less interesting than the man beside him and looked at Tim with a raised brow.“Excuse me?” he asked, his tone cool but his voice just a shade too tight.Tim chuckled under his breath, that dry, knowing sound that always seemed to find its way under Ethan’s skin. He took a slow step forward, reaching out as a passing waiter floated by with a silver tray of champagne flutes.With effortless grace, Tim plucked one from the tray and lifted it to his lips. Ethan’s eyes betrayed him — watching, almost hypnotised, as those lips curved around the rim of the glass. The subtle motion of Tim’s throat as he swallowed… the faint sigh that left his mouth as he closed his eyes for a second, savouring the taste. It was such a small thing, yet Ethan’s pulse spiked, his stomach knotting in ways he couldn’t name.He must have lingered too long.Because when Tim opened his eyes again, there was a glint
Ethan steadied himself at last, though his heart raced beneath his ribs and his hands shook with a nervous energy he never knew he possessed. His entire body was a battleground of contrasts — control, composure, and something dangerously close to desire.He drew a sharp breath, meeting Tim's gaze, his voice cutting through the tension like steel."You are going to watch your tone with me, Mr Dorian," he said, low and even, not blinking. "And stop this insinuating of what is not."Tim's eyebrows rose somewhat, that maddening smirk tugging at his mouth — the kind of smirk that appeared to be both challenge and certainty. He tilted his head, voice cool, teasing, and yet subtly inquiring."Insinuating?" he echoed softly.Ethan squared his shoulders, feet planted. "Yes. Insinuating." His tone was harder now, each word slow and measured. "Quit implying what isn't so."He took a slow step forward, closing the space between them to inches where he could discern the faint glint of amber light
The moment Ethan stepped into the Gilded Emporium Art Gallery on Norman Street—the most exclusive gallery in all of Nashville, a sanctuary for the rich, the elite, and the mighty, the atmosphere hit him instantly. The scent of fresh paint mingled with expensive perfumes, polished marble, and the faint trace of champagne bubbles bursting in tall crystal flutes. They all glittered. Gold-leaf ceiling mirrored the light of dazzling chandeliers, casting rays over glass walls adorned with irreplaceable paintings like jewels in a crown.A slenderly dressed man in a stylish black suit came out at the door, slightly bowing.“Your jacket, sir?” he asked smoothly.Ethan gave a small nod, sliding off his tailored coat and passing it over without a word. His expression stayed collected, but his eyes, sharp and restless, were already sweeping the vast hall.The music drifted on the breeze, a quiet string quartet playing a delicate piece to soothe and astonish. Tuxedos-clad men and couture-gown-wear
~Later That Afternoon~Madison’s perfectly manicured nails drummed restlessly against the edge of Harrison Fabian’s mahogany desk. Her eyes, sharp, stormy, and brimming with a fury she rarely allowed anyone to see, cut straight into the man before her.“What do you mean by we still don’t have access to the original documents, Harrison?” she hissed through clenched teeth, her voice carrying the venom of a serpent ready to strike.Harrison Fabian — the man who had once promised her the world, who had schemed with her fifteen years ago to secure the fortune and empire of the Hemsworth estate shifted uneasily in his leather chair. His office was lined with shelves of law books and dark portraits, but in that moment, even the grandeur of the room felt suffocating under Madison’s rage.He swallowed. “Madison… I’ve told you before. The documents were hidden in Alexandra’s private study. He was meticulous, secretive. He placed them in a safe, one I know exists. But the location of the key…”
Ethan stiffened in his seat, his mother’s question still hanging like a blade above his head. Nothing, he thought bitterly. He had nothing. He hadn’t drawn up a single political strategy for the upcoming election. He had left all of that in Madison’s hands, just as he always had. He managed the estates, the fortune, the legacy she had somehow built from shadows—yet the gears of politics? That was her world, not his.His mind, almost involuntarily, slipped back to the beginning.He could still remember that day. The day Madison came home, her face was glowing with a joy he had never seen before. She swept him into her lap, the faint scent of her rose perfume and the perfect crimson outline of her lipstick etched forever in his memory. He had grown up watching those lips curve into sharp smiles, but that day, they curved differently—into promise.“My pretty son,” she had whispered, her voice velvet, her hands smoothing down his hair. “Momma is taking you to a bigger place. A much better
~PRESENT DAY~Ethan woke with a pounding in his skull, the kind of headache that throbbed behind his eyes and refused to let him rest. Sleep had eluded him since their return from the Delula Fashion Hub, and no matter how many times he tried to close his eyes, a certain face forced its way into his mind—sharp, arrogant, unforgettable.Tim.Tim Dorian.The name alone set Ethan’s jaw tight. That young man—cocky, self-possessed, with eyes that seemed to look through him instead of at him had managed to shake something deep inside him. The incident from last night rushed back with the violence of a whirlwind.He swung his legs out of bed, muttering to himself, voice harsh and low.“How dare he? What does he know about me? He knows nothing.”The words echoed against the marble of the washroom as Ethan stepped under the spray, the water doing little to wash away his thoughts. By the time he dressed and made his way to the dining hall, his mask of control was back in place.The long dinner t