Page 6 of The Sexy Ex's Brother
JACK
The lingering warmth of the coffee we shared this morning clings to my tongue, a faint trace of her presence that refuses to fade. I can still see her, sitting in my kitchen with damp hair and that oversized sweater she borrowed from me because she was cold, slipping off one shoulder. Her fingers curled tightly around the mug like it was the only thing holding her together. The neckline had dipped low enough to show the edge of a lace strap, and I hated how quickly my eyes found it. I tried not to look, told myself I shouldn’t, yet my gaze dropped anyway, too quick, too automatic. Even when I forced myself to look away, I couldn’t. Something about the sight held me there, unwilling to let go.
Her legs were tucked beneath her, bare except for the hem of my sweater skimming her thighs, and every inch of her looked like a dare. She didn’t mean to affect me like that. She wasn’t trying to. That almost made it worse. It wasn’t the softness of her skin or the curve of her mouth that undid me, it was the fact that she was unguarded. Open. Still healing. And somehow, sitting there in the quiet with nothing but my mug and my silence, she trusted me with that. We didn’t talk much. What little we saidbarely touched the surface. The weight of it pressed beneath my ribs, and I haven’t been able to shake it since.
After she left, I stood in the same spot for a long time. Staring at the empty mug. Breathing in the ghost of her shampoo and the hush she left in her wake.
I get dressed, black slacks, a charcoal dress shirt, sleeves rolled once at the forearms. I add my watch, the heavy one with the leather band. It grounds me when I need it. Like today.
***
I step out of the car and into the marble-lined lobby of Wilson & Hart Media. Everything gleams, glass, chrome, ambition. The kind of place built to reflect power. The kind of place where no one asks questions they don’t already know the answers to.
Jenn, my assistant, is already waiting near the elevators. She’s holding her tablet like a shield, her eyes scanning my schedule with military precision.
“You’ve got a product pitch at ten, a board call at eleven, and the investors moved their lunch to one,” she says briskly.
“Push the pitch to next week,” I say, barely glancing up.
Jenn hesitates. “Jack, the developers flew in for this…”
“I said next week.” My voice leaves no room for argument.
She exhales quietly and taps her screen, making the change without another word.
I walk the corridor to my office, top floor, corner suite. All clean lines and curated taste: glass walls and matte black fixtures. I toss my briefcase onto the slate-gray sofa, shrug off my jacket, and move to the floor-to-ceiling window. The skyline stretches wide and detached.
I open my laptop and try to lose myself in a merger update, but Ivy won’t leave me.
The image of her lingers. Bare-faced. Exhausted. Still stunning. No armor. No mask. Just Ivy, in her rawest form. Theversion of her I never thought I’d be allowed to see again. I’m still staring at the same sentence, my hand frozen on the mouse, when the office door slams open.
Derek barrels in without knocking, his steps uneven and his face twisted in a mix of rage and desperation. His eyes are bloodshot, jaw set tight, and his tie hangs loose like a noose he forgot to tighten. His shirt is wrinkled and untucked, like he hasn’t looked in a mirror since yesterday. There’s a wildness to him that doesn’t belong in a room like this.
“She’s gone,” he says, breath sharp.
I rise slowly. “Gone? You said that last night when you called. She didn’t come back?”
“No. I found the ring on the kitchen table. No note. No call. Nothing.”
I cross the room and lean against the window frame. “When did this happen?”
“Last night. I thought she was blowing off steam, maybe with Sienna, but she’s not answering. The doorman said she got in a cab, with luggage.”
I nod, slow and deliberate. “Maybe she just needed space.”
Derek lets out a bitter laugh and shoves both hands into his hair. “We’re getting married in two weeks.”
“Were, apparently.”
He turns toward me, pacing now. “You know something.”
“I know what you just told me.” I keep my voice level.
He plants his hands on my desk. “Don’t bullshit me, Jack. You’ve always had a thing for her.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is that what this is about?”
His eyes flash. “Just answer me. Did she say anything to you?”
