Ethan’s POV:
Caspar led me down the hallway toward his wine cellar.
As soon as we were alone, I leaned against the bar and asked casually, “So, how did you and Audrey meet?”
His eyebrow arched instinctively, and I could see a sudden territorial look flash across his face.
“Audrey? Why the interest? Have you taken a liking to her?” His voice carried an edge I rarely heard from him.
I chuckled, raising my hands in mock surrender. “Easy there. Just asking a simple question. Why so defensive?”
Caspar moved toward the bar cabinet that housed his collection, clearly attempting to appear nonchalant. “Still partial to Macallan 25?”
“Your memory serves you well, old friend,” I replied, settling into one of the leather armchairs.
He poured two glasses, handed one to me, and took the seat opposite.
The amber liquid caught the warm light from the wall sconces as I swirled it gently.
“She’s Noah’s art teacher,” he finally said, his voice measured.
“Just the art teacher?” I kept my question casual, but watched his reaction carefully. “Interesting. She seems… special.
Seeing he didn’t respond, I decided to push a little further.
“Well then,” I said with exaggerated thoughtfulness, “if that’s all she is, maybe I should ask her out myself.
Caspar’s face darkened instantly, and his voice dropped to a dangerous tone.
“Touch her, and we’ll see how quickly our fifteen years of friendship evaporates.”
I burst into laughter, genuinely amused by his visceral reaction. “God, look at your face! I was joking, Caspar.”
I shook my head, still chuckling.
“Who would have thought? The mighty iron tree Caspar Thornton has finally blossomed.”
He took a long sip of his scotch, clearly not entirely amused by my teasing.
“So,” I ventured, leaning back in my chair, “Is your romantic relationship not going smoothly? Would you like me to give you some
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advice?”
Caspar scoffed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
‘I don’t need relationship advice from a perpetual bachelor like you.”
Z
‘I don’t have time for romance,” I countered with a grin. “Between quarterly reports, shareholder meetings, and expanding into three new markets this year, I barely have time to sleep, let alone court someone.”
Caspar chuckled. Our conversation drifted to more familiar territory–market predictions, potential acquisitions.
This was comfortable ground, the language we both spoke fluently, interspersed with inside jokes and references to our shared past.
Yet while my mouth formed words about interest rates and merger opportunities, my mind raced with entirely different concerns.
Daisy’s infatuation with Caspar had been manageable when he was single. I’d even subtly supported it, arranging “coincidental‘ meetings in London.
But now, watching Caspar’s face transform at the mere mention of Audrey Lane, I knew the situation had fundamentally changed.
Caspar Thornton set his sights on something–or someone–he never let go.
And now, that laser focus was directed at Audrey Lane.
I took another sip of the excellent scotch, nodding at something Caspar was saying while inwardly sighing.
I truly didn’t want my sister hanging her hopes on this particular tree. With Caspar’s heart so clearly occupied, it would only end in disappointment for Daisy.
“Let’s see what they are doing?” Caspar suggested, setting down his empty glass. “I’ve kept you to myself long enough.”
We made our way back through the corridor toward the main living area, but stopped short at the sound of voices coming from a side room–Daisy’s voice, unmistakably tense, and another female voice responding with cool composure.
Caspar pushed the door open, and I followed close behind.
The scene that greeted us made my stomach drop: Daisy stood with her checkbook open, pen in hand, while Audrey Lane sat opposite her,
arms crossed and expression carefully neutral.
-whatever amount you think is fair,” Daisy was saying.
I watched Caspar’s face transform, a dangerous stillness settling over his features.
But before he could speak, Audrey tilted her head thoughtfully.
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Chapter 79
“Two billion,” she replied.
For a split second, Daisy’s face registered shock.
The corner of Caspar’s mouth twitched upward, his expression shifting from murderous to amused in an instant.
I moved quickly, taking Daisy’s arm.
“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
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I forced a lightness into my voice. “Caspar’s been giving me the tour, but I think we should turn in. Jet lag’s catching up with both of us.
Daisy resisted slightly, but I tightened my grip on her arm.
We maintained a strained silence during the car ride back to our hotel, tension building with each passing minute.
Daisy was still sulking even after they arrived at the hotel.
I sighed. My sister’s infatuation with Caspar Thornton had been amusing at first, but now it was becoming problematic.
“Daisy, I think you should reconsider your interest in Caspar.”
“Why?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Did he say something?”
“He didn’t need to. It’s obvious he’s involved with someone.”
“That art teacher?” Daisy scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Do you really think she can compete with me?”
‘In my eyes? Of course not. You’re my sister,” I said, softening my tone. “But Caspar… you should have seen his face when I even joked about asking her out. He’s serious about her, Daisy. More serious than I’ve ever seen him about anyone.”
‘You’re supposed to be on my side,” she pouted, the expression so familiar it transported me back to her childhood tantrums.
“Why are you trying to discourage me? If you won’t help, fine, but don’t actively work against me.”
I ran a hand through my hair, exasperated.
‘Fine,‘ I conceded, raising my hands in surrender. “Do what you want. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when things don’t go your way.”
I shook my head, reaching for my coat. I remembered that I still had something formal to do in New York.
New York. The city had stolen my sister and my childhood in one cruel afternoon.
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Chapter 79
My real sister had vanished while under my care in Central Park when I was a child.
Twenty–five years of searching, of false leads and disappointments.
My father had eventually given up, declaring her dead without proof.
But I couldn’t–wouldn’t–not without certainty.
‘Where are you going?” Daisy called after me as I moved toward the door.
“Just some business to attend to,” I replied vaguely. “Don’t wait up.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
