TAMING THE BILLIONAIRE; My Brother's Best Friend のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

Ethan's povSix years ago.Aaron Warner's mouth flavored the spearmint gum and risk. Risk I knew I shouldn't desire but couldn't help anyway. His palms pushed me back into the cushioning on the couch, his long-fingered hands roaming through my hair as he had been waiting his whole lifetime for this moment. My chest pressed up and down onto his, his heat dripping through my thin T-shirt to remind me that my parents still existed, that my brother would walk in at the worst time, that breaking all the rules in the unofficial book on common sense was the very thing that we were doing.He kissed as he intended on stamping me with his symbol, like each lip touch carved his mark further onto my sternum. Aaron Warner was forever my brother's best friend—the boy who hung out in our kitchen, the boy who called me names when I was young, who grew taller, stronger, unapproachable with the advancing years. I used to sneak glances when nobody noticed. I used to wonder whether he even saw me as anyt

Ethan's pov I pulled on the whitest shirt I owned, the one that still clung to the notion that it was brand new. It felt stiff in the collar, the cotton starched just right so I knew I was going to do something important. With it, I hung out the sharpest suit and pants I had. The black suit was a bit worn at the elbows, the most delicate sheen betraying it had seen more than one "big day." All my suits were hand-me-downs, presents from Connor in spirit if not in fit. He would remind me to "dress like a man who's headed somewhere, even if you're still standing in one place." But this one, I had worn to the graduation party just last year. I recalled the champagne spills I had worked so hard to clean, the backslaps by profs who barely knew my name, and Connor's thunderous laughter on the corner of the leased hall.I put on the pants, tugged the shirt over my shoulders, and stood in front of the mirror. My hair, normally dirty blond but probably going to look like a haystack if not work

Three weeks.That's how long it had been since the humiliating event outside Warner Industries. Since Aaron Warner had looked at me with those cold eyes and spoken to me as if I was nothing more than dirt on his thousand–dollar boots. Since the coffee seared through the pristine lines of his suit and through whatever strand of hope I'd been foolish enough to hold in my chest.Three weeks, and still nothing.Not from Warner Industries. Not from any of the other firms whose clean glass doors I'd walked through with tidily stapled résumés clutched in my hand. Silence.I despised it. Despised the way every unreturned email, every rejection, reminded me of him. Of Aaron.I shattered my heart every time his face surfaced in my head, uninvited. The strong cheekbones hardened now into something unforgiving, the jawline carved from stone, the seriousness that had replaced the goofy smile I remembered from highschool. Six years ago, he was a boy still shedding his skin, laughing too loudly at C

Aaron's POVWhat the fuck.What the actual fuck.It was going to be easy.I just had to just ignore him — pretend he wasn't even standing there, stuff all of those memories back in that locked little box I'd been pounding shut for six years.But since when has Ethan Banks ever been the kind of guy you can ignore?I sat across from him behind the conference table while he listened to Maxwell, one of my shrewdest analysts, talk about Q4 expectations. He was focused, nodding, pen tapping against his pad.I wished I could despise him for how intent he was.But I couldn't.Not when my heart was pounding out of time in my chest just for having him in the same room.Not when he looked like that.God, how was he even in New York?When he had crashed into me three weeks ago in the lobby, coffee spilling everywhere, it had taken every bit of myself not to grab him there, not to slam my lips into his like I used to.Things have changed.I am no longer the foolish young man that I used to be.I a

Ethan's POVI tugged at my shirt collar and undid the first three buttons, gasping for air. The office was too quiet, the air too still, and my head seemed like it was spinning in circles. My screen stared back at me with all the progress of an empty grave. I had the title. I had the general idea. That was it.It was now 7:13 p.m. and I'd achieved nothing concrete.I sighed in frustration and rocked backward in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose.Why did it feel like Aaron Warner was in my head, tapping his finger against the inner wall of my skull and whispering, You can't do it. You're going to fail.Like hell I would.I’d give him something so polished he’d have no choice but to respect it — or choke on it.There was a soft knock at the door.I didn’t even bother lifting my head, just grunted, “Come in.”It had to be security or someone who forgot their badge. Everyone else had gone home hours ago.The door creaked open and a small voice said, “Um… hi?”I looked up.Mandy