Ethan's POV
"Your brother will be coming home with his wife today, Ethan," Mom suddenly said from across the table, where she sat directly opposite me.
Immediately, a muscle ticked in my jaw as I looked up and glared at her. Her words felt like poison in my ears.
"So what?" I scoffed bitterly, my grip tightening around the wine glass in my hand.
"I'm probably the last person he wants to know about it, right? Is that not why I'm only hearing it now—and from you, of all people?" I spat, anger burning in my voice.
"Don't be like that, Ethan," she chided softly, though her brown eyes stared sharply at me.
"Your brother must've had a lot on his mind. Maybe that's why he forgot to tell you."
"Oh, right. And of course, you have an excuse ready to defend him," I growled, slamming the glass hard against the table as I stood up abruptly, heart pounding.
I didn't want to hear anything about my brother anymore. We were both her sons, but it was obvious who she favored.
"Actually," she began again, stopping me just as I was about to leave the dining room, "I didn't bring him up so we could fight… like we always do whenever he's being mentioned."
I paused mid-stride and slowly turned to face her.
"So what's this about then?" I asked coldly, retracing my steps.
She sighed and took a slow sip from her wine, her eyes never leaving mine.
"I was thinking… Maybe you could go pick them up from the airport."
"What?!" I laughed bitterly, completely stunned.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me, Mom. We have drivers, remember? Chauffeurs? You could've sent any one of them."
"And you think I don't know that?" she asked, giving me a pointed look. I swallowed hard.
"What are you driving at, Mom?" I asked, eyes narrowing.
She didn't reply. Instead, she glanced down at her wristwatch.
I stared at her, suspicious. She of all people knew I was barely speaking to my brother; we were at daggers drawn. If she still wanted me to pick him up, then she was definitely up to something.
"It's already 8 p.m. They should've landed by now," she said, standing. "I'll be in my room. But by the time I come back, I want to see your brother and his wife here."
And just like that, she walked away.
I stood there for a while, uncertain, then finally went to my room, changed into something decent, and left the house.
___
The airport was packed when I arrived. Noise echoed from every direction—families reuniting, luggage wheels scraping, babies crying. I scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar head of dark curls.
No sign of him.
I roamed for what felt like forever. Just when I was about to give up, I spotted him at the far side of the tarmac.
He was scanning the crowd too, probably searching for me.
Then his eyes met mine.
I hesitated, forcing a smile. "Hi." I gave a small wave.
He didn't wave back. He just stared at me with that cold, detached look that reminded me why we were no longer close. My hand dropped, and I looked away, anger and unease twisting inside me.
Why did I even wave?
Yeah, what the hell was I thinking? That things would magically be okay?
Just then I saw her.
The woman standing next to him was tall, radiant, and effortlessly stunning.
Wait, what? This woman? She's his wife? this diva? This freaking goddess?
I should've looked away the moment my eyes landed on her—but hell, I couldn't. She looked like something pulled out of a dream, and hell, I couldn't stop staring.
By the time they reached me, I was still gawking.
"Ahem…" Marcus cleared his throat sharply, and that was what pulled me out of my daze.
I blinked, snapping out of it almost immediately.
"Welcome back, bro," I said, managing a quick smile. We exchanged a side hug that lasted barely two seconds.
"Thanks," he grunted in response.
Then I turned to her—his wife.
She was even more stunning up close. Her smooth skin. The curve of her lips and her eyes that held a quiet challenge.
"Hello," I greeted.
"Oh, hi! You must be Ethan, right?" She asked warmly, extending her hand for a handshake.
I didn't hesitate to take it. "Yeah, that's me," I replied quickly, my grip a little too eager.
"Nice to meet you!" she said brightly, and I nodded slowly. Once again I caught myself staring again—this time at the way her dress clung to her chest. Geez!
I swallowed hard and managed to snap my eyes back to her face just in time to see her smile widen as she leaned in and kissed me softly on the cheek.
Oh. Shit.
My entire body at that instant. I looked to Marcus instinctively, but he didn't even flinch. His face was stone-cold, eyes back on his phone.
"Alright," I cleared my throat, "let's go. Mom's waiting."
I opened the driver's door and slid in. Marcus and Jessica followed next, settling into the backseat.
The drive from the airport was a blur. I kept stealing glances at the rearview mirror.
Marcus was glued to his phone. But his wife? Her eyes weren't on her phone. They weren't even on the road. They were… somewhere else. And every time they met mine, she smirked.
That smirk.
It did things to me.
By the time we got home, my heart was pounding for reasons I couldn't even explain.
Mom was waiting in the living room, just like she said.
"Welcome back home, son! I've missed you," she beamed, pulling Marcus into a hug. For the first time since he arrived, he smiled.
"I missed you too, Mom," he replied.
Mom then turned to his wife.
"You must be Jessica, right?" she asked, eyeing her closely.
"Yes, ma'am. I am."
"Oh my!" Mom lit up.
"You're even more beautiful in person. Marcus told me a lot about you. And just like he said, you're an angel."
Jessica let out a bright, graceful smile.
"Thank you so much, ma'am. I get that a lot, honestly."
"Well, welcome to the family. I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the wedding; I was tied up that day."
"No worries. Marcus explained, "She replied, and they both smiled.
"Alright then. I've had the maids prepare a room for you two. Go freshen up; dinner will be ready shortly."
"Thanks, Mom," Marcus nodded, leading Jessica away.
I watched them go. Or rather, I watched her go. The sway of her hips. The subtle bounce. Something about her got to me.
I've seen beautiful women before. Hell, I've been with them. But something about Jessica… her confidence, her charm… every movement stirred something in me I couldn't ignore.
"Son," Mom's voice yanked me back.
"Yeah?" I turned toward her, quickly clearing my throat.
She gave me a curious look.
"You've been staring at your brother and his wife for a while now. Is everything okay?"
"Uh… really?" I scratched the back of my head awkwardly. "Nah, nothing. Just… thinking."
She didn't look convinced but nodded anyway.
"Thank you for picking them up. I know it wasn't easy."
"It's nothing," I muttered, dropping my gaze.
There was a pause.
"Now that Marcus is back, I want you two to work things out. It's part of why I sent you to pick them up. But from the look of things, he still isn't ready to talk."
"And if I remember correctly, I'm the one who suffered the most from everything," I snapped quietly, finally meeting her gaze.
"I was the one who got hurt, remember?"
Mom sighed and reached out to squeeze my shoulder gently.
"I know. Just give it time, son. He'll come around."
I didn't reply.
"Alright then. See you at dinner," she said, walking away.
I stood there for a while, lost in thought, my gaze drifting back to the stairs Marcus and Jessica had disappeared up.
_____
Dinner came faster than expected.
We were all seated at the table. Usually, dinner was dull in this house, but tonight? Jessica made everything different.
She sat between Marcus and Mom, chatting easily, laughing softly, and lighting up the entire room with her presence.
Marcus barely looked up from his phone.
I, on the other hand, couldn't stop staring at her. The way her lips moved. The graceful flick of her fingers as she used her cutlery. She looked expensive. Trained. Perfect.
I was too busy watching her to realize something strange had happened—until I felt it.
Something had slipped beneath the table and into my jeans.
My body froze.
I shifted in my seat, trying not to panic, but the pressure moved again—this time circling slowly around my groin.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
What the fuck?!
I blinked rapidly and slowly lowered my gaze under the table, only to see her legs.
Jessica's
Meanwhile, she was still chatting with Mom, smiling like she wasn't sending me into a spiral of madness under the table.
What the hell?!
No.
No, no, no. She couldn't be.
Was it an accident? Did she just—?
I tried to gently push her leg away with mine, but she didn't move. She pressed harder, meaning she was doing this for one purpose.
Fuck!
My grip tightened around the fork in my hand.
Thick sweat was already forming on my forehead, and my dick was getting hard—pretty fast.
God, I couldn't believe this was happening.
I looked at Jessica again, and as if on cue, she looked up at her and—God help me—smirked again with that same smug, dangerous smirk.
I looked at Marcus; he was still on his phone, oblivious to all that was going on.
I tried to hold myself together and tried to breathe.
Tried to ignore the heat, the pressure, and the chaos she was causing down there, but then her legs continued moving slowly and relentlessly, almost driving me over the edge, and before I could stop myself.
"Oh shit," I gasped out loud, throwing my head back with a light groan.
Every eye at the table snapped toward me at that instant as a bead of sweat slid down my temple. My fork fell from my hand and clattered to the plate. and across the table… Jessica smiled.