Page 59 of The Sexy Ex's Brother
Sienna nods, arms folded. “And I know people who will cover the comeback. Real journalists. Not clickbait hacks.”
Rosenthal leans forward, steepling her fingers. “You’re rebuilding a public trust from the ground up. You’ll need clean lines. New bylaws. Probably new board members.”
“I’ve already started drafting ideas,” I reply. “I’ll reach out to a few people who weren’t afraid to speak up before. People who actually give a damn.”
“And your father?” Rosenthal asks.
I pause. “He’s out. No seat, no say. That door is closed.”
I glance at Ivy, and something eases in my chest. This, this is what building looks like. Not press conferences and court filings, but people in a room choosing integrity over convenience.
After Rosenthal leaves, Sienna slips out to take a call. Ivy and I stay behind, standing at the edge of the windows, overlooking the city we’ve been fighting to stay upright in.
“You still want to disappear?” she asks, leaning her head against my shoulder.
“Yes,” I murmur. “But not yet. Not until this is real.”
She turns to face me, and for a long moment, there are no headlines, no ghosts, no empire. Just her.
“I don’t want to be anyone’s symbol,” Ivy says. “Not a phoenix. Not a survivor. Just someone who chose the truth.”
“You are,” I say. “And you didn’t just choose it. You held the match.”
She smiles, and this time it’s real.
I touch her jaw, then press a kiss to her temple. “We make it better now. All of it.”
“Together,” she whispers.
The city buzzes far below, indifferent. But up here, we’re starting something honest. A stillness settles between us as we turn back toward the table. I reach for a pen, Ivy flipping open a fresh page of notes. Her handwriting is fast, intentional.
“What do we call this next phase?” she asks softly.
“Accountability,” I answer. “And after that?”
She looks at me. “Hope.”
For once, I let myself believe her.
***
When the city finally slows and the penthouse dims to soft lamplight, we find our way to each other again. Her hands slip around my neck as I pull her closer. There’s no rush. Just the steady, deliberate way we relearn the shape of us.
She kisses me like she’s anchoring us to this moment, to now, to what we’ve fought through. Her fingers curl in my shirt, and I lift her gently, her legs wrapping around my waist. I carry her to the bedroom, our breath the only thing between heartbeats.
The mattress gives beneath us as she arches beneath me, her nails dragging lightly down my back. Her skin is hot and slick, soft and insistent, and every sigh between us is charged. I kiss her deeper, slower, letting my mouth memorize her gasp as I slide my dick into her, stretching her open, claiming every inch. She wraps her legs around me tighter, pulling me in with a strength that says she’s not letting go, not now, not ever.
Her hips rise to meet mine, our rhythm a slow burn that builds and builds, relentless in its intensity. I thrust deeper, feel her clench around me, hear her whimper my name like she’s already coming apart. Her teeth graze my shoulder, a breathless curse escaping her lips as I roll my hips again. My hand finds her thigh, anchoring her to me as her head tips back, mouth open, eyes wild.
“Jack,” she breathes, voice breaking on the edge. I press my forehead to hers. “I’ve got you,” I promise, and she shatters beneath me.
We lie tangled in twisted sheets, her body flush against mine. The sweat between us is sticky, cooling slowly. She trails her fingers along my jawline, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, like she’s memorizing the moment.
There’s still a war ahead. But here, in this breath, it’s only us. And in the hush of it, I let myself imagine the future. Not the one I was born into, but the one we’re building, equal, open, relentless in its honesty. A legacy of light, not shadow. Just before I close my eyes, I hear her voice again, echoing from earlier. Hope. But hope is never just a word. It’s a risk. A vow. And as she sleeps beside me, curled into my chest, I feel the weight of everything it’s taken to get here.
I’ve wanted her for so long, long before I was allowed to, long before she saw me. Want turned into longing, then silence, then resignation. And now? Now she’s here. In my arms. In my bed. In my life. The part of me I thought I had to bury just to keep her safe is finally free to breathe.
And yet… I know this peace is still fragile. The world won’t suddenly stop spinning just because we’ve found each other. There will be noise. Scrutiny. People who will try to drag her name down to spite mine. And I won’t always be able to shield her. That’s the cost of building something real in a world that profits from the illusion.
