Page 1 of When We Ignite
CHAPTER ONE
ASH
Spring was in full swing. Trees draped in vibrant green leaves swayed gently in the breeze, and the garden bloomed with colorful flowers as far as the eye could see. It was cool enough to warrant a sweater, but the high sun cast a golden glow from the cloudless sky. People chatted animatedly as we strolled toward the tennis courts, and Oliver kept giving me uncomfortable side glances.
“I told you I needed that fucking transaction done last night, Warren,” I barked into the phone. “If you cost me that deal, I swear I’ll get on a plane right now and fuck your wife. Get off your ass and do what you’re fucking told.” Pulling out a cigarette and dangling it between my lips, I patted my blazer in search for the lighter and caught Oliver’s wide-eyed stare. “What?”
His eyebrows were raised, eyes darting around as he shot apologetic looks at passersby. “You can’t smoke here, and can you keep your voice down?”
Warren sighed on the other end, his frustration barely contained. “Your father said?—”
“I don’t care what Teddy said. This is my call. Authorize the fucking buy-in,” I snapped, cutting him off. Finding the lighter, I flicked it on, the flame dancing in the cool air, and lit my cigarette, taking a long drag and savoring the burn.
“I’m serious about not smoking,” my brother mumbled.
I gave him an exasperated glance as we continued toward the courts.
“If your father—” Warren tried again.
“My father wants money. I’m making him money. End of discussion,” I spoke over him. “Now, I’m having lunch with Oli’s soon-to-be bride. When we talk again, I want the fucking numbers, not excuses. Give my love to Ida.” I hung up without waiting for his reply. Taking another drag, I glanced at Oliver over my sunglasses, the sun casting sharp shadows on his disapproving face.
He pressed his lips together. “Can you reel that in when Charlotte’s around?”
“Reel what in?”
“You threatened to sleep with his wife.”
I dismissed his worries with a wave of my hand. “Oh please, Warren knows I’m gay. I’d sooner fuck him, and that’s saying something.”
Oliver closed his eyes, pained by my bluntness, clasping his hands together and begging, “Please behave, Ash.”
I grinned at his discomfort. It was so easy to rile him up.
Oliver pushed the door open, and we stepped into the second court. I’d met Charlotte a handful of times over the past year, but we’d never had a real one-on-one conversation. That made me feel like a pretty lousy older brother—but better late than never. My schedule was packed, but I’d made the drive to Long Island. Now, I just needed to make sure this lunch didn’t drag.
I spotted her first. Lithe and elegant, her high ponytail spilled into a cascade of chestnut-brown waves that gleamed in the sunlight. “Beautiful as always,” I admitted, watching as Oliver’s smile softened, his eyes full of quiet affection.
“She’s wonderful.” Oliver had always been a bit of a hopeless romantic. It wasn’t surprising that he was getting married before me, even though he was almost four years younger.
Our father was thrilled by the match—the picture-perfect little Langleys to succeed him were just within reach. He was a big fan of marriage, our dad. A true advocate for the pillars of society.
Taking another drag, I turned my attention to her companion. He was waiting for her serve, the tight white shorts clinging to his muscular thighs accentuating his every move. My eyebrows rose appreciatively as I leaned on the fence. “Who’s that?” I asked, taking in the pert shape of his ass, a smile tugging at my lips.
“Don’t fucking go there,” Oliver snapped.
I turned, surprised. Always prim and proper, Oli seldom swore, especially not at the club.
He gave me a warning look, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a rare flash of irritation. “That’s Char’s little brother. Emphasis onlittle, Ash.”
“Oli!” Charlotte called out.
The little brother straightened and turned toward us. A veritable Adonis, he had messy waves of golden-blond hair that fell effortlessly over his brow—the kind of hair that begged to be touched, tousled, pulled. He shared his sister’s straight nose, but his fuller lips balanced his features perfectly. Athletic for sure, his body was adorned with tight muscles that moved gracefully under his skin.
I appraised him over my glasses, taking one last drag before flicking the butt away. “Now he’s drop-dead fucking gorgeous.”
Our gazes locked. His eyes were a striking pale blue, like shards of ice.
Oliver rushed to pick up the cigarette butt as I stood tall, watching them approach.
