POV: Chloe

Tristan held my gaze. The raw vulnerability in his eyes was clearly difficult for him to reveal. “Talk to him. Just… stay close,” he murmured.

I crossed the room.

The second I stepped close, Ethan’s hand snapped out. It clamped around my wrist.

The grip was brutal. But his guttural growls finally died down. His breathing stayed harsh, yet it slowed.

I perched on the mattress. I draped my hand over his and just talked. I babbled about nothing: the banquet, office gossip, Marcus being an absolute idiot.

Inch by inch, the rigid tension in Ethan’s muscles bled away. Behind me, Tristan’s presence loomed. The air between the...