The sun was obnoxiously perfect, the kind of day that begged for irresponsibility.
Christian swirled the wine in his glass like some bored royal and stepped into the infinity pool. "You know, I almost canceled on you. Figured you'd be holed up in the penthouse again, kissing spreadsheets and cursing emotions."
Ethan smirked, eyes on his phone. "And yet, here you are."
"Dragged by loyalty," Christian said dramatically. "And the hope of seeing you emotionally constipated in broad daylight."
Ethan didn't bite. He just kept typing on his phone.
> Enjoying without me, really? —Lena.
He smiled and tapped back:
> Would've invited you, but it's low-key. You know, boys only—wine and emotional repression.
He threw in a laughing emoji.
Seconds later:
> So much for being the official girlfriend.
He chuckled under his breath.
Christian narrowed his eyes, floating closer. "Okay. No offense, but you've been giggling like a virgin with Wi-Fi since we got in here. Who's the mystery texter?"
Ethan shrugged. "Nobody."
Christian tilted his head. "Nobody has you grinning like a man who's just discovered foreplay exists. Spill."
"I'm not grinning."
"You're grinning, Ethan. That's terrifying. Did your legal team put something in your contract?"
"It's not that deep."
Christian pointed at him with his wine glass. "It is. You skipped a Saturday meeting. You. That's a red flag, sir. Either you're dying—or you're in love."
Ethan paused. "Do I seem… different?"
Christian scoffed. "You're not crying in a whiskey glass or yelling at interns. That's very different."
Then—
"Hey," came a soft voice from behind.
Both men turned.
Lena stood at the edge of the pool in a blue bikini that made the water look jealous. A thin robe draped over her shoulders, but it was her face that did it—aloof, composed, and just cool enough to burn.
"Didn't know we were hosting a pool party without the hostess," she said smoothly.
"Lena," Ethan breathed, eyes locked on her like the world had slowed.
She gave a tight smile. "Don't mind me. I'll be at the other side taking pics—need some solo shots for my brand."
She turned to leave, her bare back disappearing behind the cabana curtain.
Ethan didn't blink.
Christian watched him. "Okay. First of all, damn. Second of all, she's mad at you."
"I think so."
"What happened?"
"She texted. I didn't tell her I'd be here. Thought I could play it cool."
Christian snorted. "You? Cool? You're checking your phone like it's her heartbeat."
"I thought we were keeping things low-key."
"You've officially gone dumb, my guy."
Ethan said nothing.
"Wait a damn minute," Christian muttered. "Is she the one? The mystery woman who's had you acting like a man with feelings?"
Ethan didn't respond.
"Holy crap—she is. Dude. Lena?"
Ethan exhaled. "We're… sort of in a relationship."
Christian dropped his wine in the pool. "What the hell does sort of mean?!"
"We're not public. Not even to the legal team. Not yet."
Christian pointed at him dramatically. "You are so screwed. She's smoking hot, she's mad at you, and she probably has evidence. You should apologize, grovel, and maybe offer your soul."
"I'm going to her."
"Oh, please let me watch this crash and burn."
Ethan swam across like a man on a mission.
Lena was scrolling through her phone, taking selfies, lips pouty, angles deadly.
He came up behind her, arms sliding around her waist.
She tensed.
"I'm sorry," he murmured into her ear. "Didn't mean to leave you out."
She didn't turn. "You didn't even call. Just slipped away like I'm some side chick."
He kissed the curve of her neck. "You're the chick. No sides."
She finally turned, raising an eyebrow. "You sweet-talking me or stalling for your life?"
"A little of both."
She stared, then broke. "Fine. You're forgiven. But only if you pay penance."
"What kind?"
"You're my photographer. For the next thirty minutes."
Ethan smiled. "That all?"
"Oh no," she added, smirking. "You're also in charge of filters."
"Harsh."
"Deal with it, hotshot."
He took her phone and started snapping photos. Some of her playfully pouting, others looking away like she was auditioning for a perfume ad. Then one of her laughing mid-spin, robe flying open just enough to make his heart stutter.
"Let's take a few together," she said softly.
He hesitated.
"Low-key, remember?"
She leaned in, kissed his cheek, then pulled him closer for a selfie. He gave in, letting her take several—some cheeky, one where their lips brushed, one where she caught him looking at her like he didn't know how to stop.
Christian called out from the pool. "You two done making me single and sad?"
Lena burst into laughter. "Come on, third wheel."
Christian joined them, throwing in dramatic poses. For ten minutes, the three laughed like nothing mattered.
Eventually, Lena glanced at her watch. "My time's up. Got a virtual meeting with a brand."
She leaned in, kissed Ethan again—this time lingering—and whispered, "Make sure the photos don't mysteriously disappear."
Then she walked off, robe trailing behind her like a queen.
Ethan watched her leave, quiet.
Christian leaned over. "So… are you gonna tell me when the wedding is or do I just keep reading your expressions like a diary?"
Ethan laughed.
Christian grinned. "She loves you, man. And you—you're not just smitten. You're wrecked. And it's about time."
Ethan watched the door where she'd disappeared, the smile on his face soft but weighted.
"I know," he said. "And this time, I don't want to mess it up."
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