Page 13 of Ethan & Grace

“Since when?”

Since I realised just how fucked up everything is.

For a long time, I’d tried to bury my problems with wild parties and all that went with them, but it hadn’t changed the facts of the matter: My dad was on trial for sexual abuse, my mum was well on her way to becoming an alcoholic, and Henry had been addicted to pills because it was the only way he could deal with everything. When I’d found out about his addiction, I’d made a decision: I wouldn’t let my dad destroy me. I wouldn’t grant him that victory. Instead, I would do everything possible to take back control of my life. But that meant I had to stop numbing my feelings with constant partying.

“Since recently,” I said evasively, because I didn’t feel like getting into it with James again.

His eyes narrowed. “Is this about a woman?”

Out of the blue, his question made me think of Grace and how good it had felt to hold her yesterday. Too good, to be honest. I’d only been trying to comfort her. I might be an arsehole, but I wasn’t heartless. Still, being so close to her had done something to me. I put it down to almost two months of abstinence. My body was starved of touch. Grace should have been the last person to turn me on, though. She hated me with a passion that was almost comical. And me? I honestly didn’t know how I felt about her. It was fun to wind her up. No one lost their temper more beautifully than Grace Claymore. Besides, she was exactly my type. She was gorgeous, with an incredible body, blond hair, and brown eyes. And she could hold her own, which I admired. I wasn’t ashamed to admit I’d had more than one hot fantasy about her in that maid’s uniform. If she ever found out, though, she’d castrate me—without anaesthetic.

“No. I have other priorities right now,” I said, and changed the topic. “How are things with you?”

“Pretty good, except that my dad has been nagging me since Christmas about joining the company this summer, at least for a longer internship,” James replied. His dad was the CEO of Asterdam Fashion, one of the biggest fashion companies in the world, and his mum was a well-known designer. My family may have been rich, but James’s was much richer. The Darlington was worth almost two billion, whereas the Asterdams were sitting on a constantly growing fortune—currently worth fifty billion.

“Did you tell him you don’t want to?”

James glanced over his shoulder before merging lanes. “Yes, but he doesn’t want to hear it. I’ve told him plenty of times that I’m not into all that fashion stuff. Olivia, on the other hand, has been begging him for months to be allowed to join the company. But he won’t listen to her either.”

“Maybe he needs a hearing aid.”

James snorted. “If only it were that easy. He’s totally caught up in an old-fashioned hierarchy where his son is the legitimate heir to his legacy, even though Liv is just as qualified as I am, if not more. And unlike me, she actually cares.”

“Can’t you all just sit down together and talk about it?” I suggested.

“Great idea! Why don’t you sit down with your parents and brothers and talk?”

I grimaced. “Forget I said anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” James said, pulling up in front of our favourite Italian restaurant. Over pizza and pasta, he told me what he’d been getting up to in Cambridge over the past few weeks and with whom. He raved for what felt like an eternity about an attractive new female professor who was twenty years older than him. When I warned him not to go there, he seemed to take it not as advice but a challenge, and began concocting a plan to have his way with her.

Afterwards, James drove me to The Darlington. As soon as the Maserati came to a stop outside the hotel, the photographers who had been a routine fixture at the entrance for months swarmed the car. I grabbed my rucksack from the footwell and opened the door. The clicking of the cameras grew louder, the flashes brighter. “Thanks for the ride and treating me to dinner. Next one’s on me.”

James nodded. “Anytime. I’ll see you on Saturday. And don’t you dare bail.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

5

Where is Ethan Darlington hiding? Last year, hardly a week went by without a headline about the youngest Darlington brother. But in recent weeks, things have been unusually quiet where this eligible bachelor is concerned. Has he been tamed by a woman? Or is he simply keeping a low profile until the trial of his father, Richard Darlington, is over?

Excerpt from INsider article

Ethan

I took off my reading glasses and massaged the bridge of my nose. My eyes were burning, and my head was practically smoking. I’d spent the last three hours going through secondary sources for my new paper. I couldn’t make it too good; otherwise Professor Sattler would accuse me of plagiarism again. But I didn’t want it to be terrible either, so I was trying to find the perfect middle ground: bad enough that Professor Sattler would buy it and good enough to pave the way for better marks in the long run.

I leant back and focussed my gaze on the distance to give my eyes a rest. From my sofa, I could see the roof of the building opposite. Henry and my parents had a perfect view of the Thames and the city centre from their penthouses, whereas my flat faced the bleaker side. I didn’t complain, though. For them, the hotel was home; for me, it was just a stopgap. As soon as the dust around my dad’s scandal had settled, I would leave and get my own place. The only reason why I hadn’t already packed my bags and found myself another flat was my mum. She was going through a rough time, and I wanted to be there for her, like she’d been there for me in the past.

Even if that meant living under the same roof as him.

When I heard the lock of my flat door click open, I expected to see Grace, but it was the woman who had cleaned my flat while Grace had been gone.

Madelyn smiled at me. She was friendly but somewhat dull. “Hello, Mr. Darlington.”

“Hello, Madelyn,” I said. I’d asked her more than once to call me Ethan—Mr. Darlington was my dad—but she always reverted back to addressing me formally, and I’d given up calling her out on it. “Where’s Grace?”

“It’s her day off today, sir.”