Three weeks into the engagement, Julian realized something had gone terribly wrong.

He had developed a routine.

Worse, the routine involved Ethan Blackwood.

At seven every morning, Ethan appeared in the kitchen wearing a perfectly pressed shirt, drinking black coffee while reading three different financial reports.

At seven fifteen, Julian wandered in wearing sweatpants and whatever shirt he had found on the floor.

At seven seventeen, Ethan complained about him.

At seven eighteen, Julian stole something from Ethan’s breakfast.

This morning, it was toast.

Ethan looked up from his tablet.

“That was mine.”

Julian took another bite.

“You’re a billionaire. Recover financially.”

“There’s an entire plate in front of you.”

“Yours tastes better.”

“It’s the same bread.”

Julian smiled.

“Maybe I like stealing from you.”

Ethan’s eyes lifted.

For half a second, neither man moved.

Julian had learned to recognize those moments.

They happened more often now.

A look held too long.

A hand that remained at the small of his back after the cameras were gone.

Ethan standing too close while Julian made coffee.

Julian falling asleep on the couch and waking beneath Ethan’s cashmere blanket.

Neither of them mentioned any of it.

Ethan returned to his tablet.

“You have a fitting at noon.”

Julian groaned.

“For what?”

“The foundation dinner.”

“Another one?”

“You agreed to public appearances.”

“I agreed under emotional distress.”

“You were eating lobster.”

“I was distressed elegantly.”

Ethan almost smiled.

Julian caught it.

“There.”

Ethan frowned.

“What?”

“You almost smiled.”

“No.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

Julian leaned across the island.

“I’m breaking you, Blackwood.”

Ethan calmly took his toast back.

“Go put on pants.”

Julian looked down.

“I’m wearing pants.”

“Real ones.”

“Controlling.”

“Impossible.”

“Obsessed.”

Ethan froze.

Julian did too.

Neither man laughed.

Then Ethan’s phone rang.

The moment vanished.

Julian hated how disappointed he felt.

---

That night, Ethan came home at 11:48.

Julian was sitting on the kitchen counter with a beer.

“You’re late.”

Ethan stopped.

Something about the words seemed to surprise him.

“Were you waiting?”

“No.”

“You’re sitting in the dark.”

“I enjoy dramatic lighting.”

Ethan put his briefcase down.

Julian studied him.

Tie loosened.

Top button undone.

Exhaustion beneath his eyes.

“You eat?”

“I had a meeting.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Julian jumped off the counter.

“Sit.”

Ethan stared at him.

“What?”

“Sit down.”

“Why?”

“Because apparently nobody taught billionaires how dinner works.”

Ten minutes later, Julian placed a plate of reheated pasta in front of him.

Ethan looked suspicious.

“You cooked this?”

“I reheated it.”

“That explains why the building is still standing.”

“Eat.”

Ethan did.

Julian leaned against the counter.

“You know, this whole terrifying CEO thing gets less convincing when I know you forget to eat.”

“I don’t forget.”

“You skipped lunch too.”

Ethan looked up.

“How do you know?”

“I asked your assistant.”

“You called my assistant?”

“She likes me.”

“Everyone likes you.”

The words came out before Ethan could stop them.

Julian went quiet.

Ethan looked down at his plate.

Julian smiled slowly.

“Do you?”

Ethan’s fork stopped.

“Do I what?”

“Like me?”

Ethan looked at him.

Julian waited.

Finally, Ethan said, “Occasionally.”

Julian laughed.

“I’ll take it.”

---

Two nights later, they attended a private reception in Midtown.

The event should have been uneventful.

It wasn’t.

A venture capitalist named Connor Blake spent twenty minutes talking to Julian.

Connor was handsome.

Funny.

Interested.

Julian noticed Ethan watching from across the room.

So naturally, he made it worse.

He laughed at Connor’s jokes.

Touched his arm once.

Accepted a second drink.

Ethan appeared beside him less than thirty seconds later.

“Julian.”

“Ethan.”

“We’re leaving.”

Julian raised an eyebrow.

“I’m talking.”

“I can see that.”

Connor smiled awkwardly.

“I was just telling Julian about—”

“I don’t care.”

Julian nearly laughed.

Ethan placed a hand against his lower back.

Not gently.

Julian looked at him.

“You jealous?”

“No.”

“Then why are you crushing my spine?”

Ethan removed his hand.

Connor excused himself.

Julian watched him go.

“You scared away my new friend.”

“He wanted to sleep with you.”

Julian turned.

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“How observant.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened.

Julian stepped closer.

“Would that bother you?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Julian.”

“You’re jealous.”

“I’m not.”

Julian smiled.

“Prove it.”

Ethan stared at him.

“How?”

“Let me go home with him.”

Something dangerous entered Ethan’s eyes.

“No.”

There it was.

Julian’s smile disappeared.

“That sounded pretty convincing.”

“You’re publicly engaged to me.”

“Fake engaged.”

“Cameras don’t know that.”

“There aren’t any cameras here.”

Ethan glanced around.

Julian was right.

They stood alone in a side corridor.

No guests.

No photographers.

No audience.

“So,” Julian whispered, “what’s your excuse now?”

Ethan stepped forward.

Julian’s back touched the wall.

“Stop pushing me.”

Julian’s pulse jumped.

“Make me.”

Ethan kissed him.

No warning.

No hesitation.

One second they were arguing.

The next, Ethan’s hand was behind Julian’s neck and Julian was pulling him closer by the front of his suit.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t careful.

It felt like every argument they had ever had collapsing into one moment.

Julian kissed him harder.

Ethan’s other hand found his waist.

Julian made a low sound against his mouth.

Ethan stopped.

Both men were breathing hard.

Julian stared at him.

“Well.”

Ethan stepped back.

“That was a mistake.”

Julian’s expression changed instantly.

“Right.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No.”

Julian straightened his jacket.

“You’re right.”

“Julian.”

“It wasn’t in the contract.”

He walked away.

Ethan didn’t follow.

---

Julian returned to the penthouse alone.

He was angry.

At Ethan.

At himself.

Mostly at the fact that he wanted Ethan to walk through the door and do it again.

He poured whiskey.

Then noticed the light in Ethan’s office.

The door was open.

Ethan’s computer was running.

Julian should have walked away.

Instead, he saw one word on the screen.

CROSS.

His instincts changed immediately.

He entered the office.

A secure directory had been left open.

CROSS OPERATIONS.

CROSS ASSETS.

CROSS SUCCESSION.

Julian clicked the last folder.

Encrypted.

Another file sat beneath it.

CROSS / HEIR / TERMINATION ORDER.

Julian stopped breathing.

He opened it.

Most of the document was coded.

But three lines were visible.

TARGET: CROSS SUCCESSOR.

AUTHORIZATION: BLACKWOOD COMMAND.

STATUS: ACTIVE.

The apartment door opened behind him.

Julian slowly turned toward the sound.

The taste of Ethan’s kiss was still on his mouth.

Now he was staring at an order to kill the Cross heir.

To kill him.