Chapter 115 Payback Time
Over an hour later, Ethan emerged from the room dressed in a black shirt, black slacks, and a black jacket—a monochromatic ensemble that gave him an austere, almost forbidding appearance.
The men gathered in the lounge, all veterans of countless romantic conquests, saw through his cold facade immediately. That wasn't the look of abstinence—it was the satisfied expression of a man who had thoroughly enjoyed himself.
Ethan settled into a brown leather couch, extending his hand casually. Jackson immediately passed him a cigarette, while Alexander hurriedly struck a match to light it. Not missing a beat, Jackson poured him a cup of tea and placed it within reach.
"So, what happened?" Ethan directed his question at Alexander, exhaling a cloud of white smoke that momentarily obscured his sharp features.
Through the hazy veil of cigarette smoke, his angular face took on an almost mythical quality—partially hidden yet unmistakably dangerous. The effect was magnetic rather than repelling.
Sitting in the corner of the sofa, Tiffany couldn't help but stare at Ethan. Despite the fact that he hadn't spared her a single glance since entering, not even a fleeting side-eye, she found herself captivated. Her heart raced just being in his presence.
This was Ethan Bennett, after all—the crown prince of LA's elite, born into power and prestige, with personal accomplishments that only enhanced his formidable reputation. He had been her teenage crush, the object of her desire for a full decade.
She'd loved him silently for ten years, from fifteen to twenty-five, never revealing her feelings publicly, suffering the sweet agony of unrequited love alone. She had always assumed Ethan would eventually choose someone extraordinary—more beautiful than her, from a more powerful family, more accomplished in every way.
Instead, he had chosen Olivia Reed, a girl who, in Tiffany's estimation, had nothing to offer beyond her pretty face. And even in terms of beauty, that Olivia girl was hardly exceptional—just an innocent little flower, neither as magnificent as a peony nor as seductive as a rose.
To Tiffany, Olivia was entirely unworthy of Ethan Bennett.
The thought brought tears to her eyes, giving her a wounded, vulnerable look as she gazed at Ethan.
Alexander glanced at his cousin, noticing her teary eyes with sympathy. "Ethan..." he began reluctantly.
Ethan's long, elegant fingers tapped the table impatiently. "I'm starting to think you don't want to stay in business," he interrupted coldly.
Alexander forced a laugh. "Come on, man, don't do that to me. Have mercy on your friend."
Ethan didn't waste time on pleasantries. "Get to the point," he commanded, his voice sharp as ice.
"Well, it's like this." Alexander pulled his nephew forward. "The kid was playing around with a sling—"
A sudden ringtone cut him off. Alexander inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as Ethan answered his phone, thinking he'd narrowly escaped being on the receiving end of Ethan's infamous temper.
Ethan hung up and addressed a staff member. "Have someone collect what Walter brought outside."
After the staff member left, Ethan raised an eyebrow at Alexander. "Continue."
Alexander cleared his throat awkwardly. "So, boys being boys, he was using a slingshot to shoot at birds, but accidentally hit—"
"It was me." Tiffany suddenly stood up and walked to Ethan, tears glistening in her eyes. "Ethan, I'm sorry. I told him to do it."
Ethan's eyes narrowed, his cold gaze sweeping across her face like a blade. "Why?" The single word carried more threat than a shouted accusation.
Tiffany bit her lip. "I was jealous of her."
The admission stunned everyone present.
After a moment of shock, Alexander stared at his cousin in disbelief.
Ethan's expression remained cold and severe, betraying no emotion whatsoever.
Tiffany's face burned with humiliation, but having started, she forced herself to continue. "I don't think she deserves you, but you're so good to her. I was jealous, so I... I had my nephew shoot her with the slingshot."
Alexander was speechless.
The other men watched with expressions of morbid fascination, clearly enjoying the drama.
Ethan said nothing, smoking his cigarette with apparent indifference. His index finger continued its rhythmic tapping on the table—a steady, ominous beat that made Tiffany's heart flutter with anxiety.
Despite Ethan's silence, his commanding presence and cold demeanor had everyone holding their breath, afraid to make even the slightest sound.
Halfway through his cigarette, Ethan extinguished it and exhaled a final cloud of smoke. "Here's what we'll do," he said, his voice cutting through the tension. "I'm a grown man, so it wouldn't be appropriate for me to retaliate physically."
Tiffany relaxed slightly, a tearful smile beginning to form on her lips.
"So instead," Ethan continued, "I'll have my girl come in. Whatever leg you had your nephew shoot, she'll do the same to you. Fair enough?"
Tiffany froze, color draining from her face.
Alexander opened his mouth to speak, but ultimately said nothing.
The lounge fell deathly silent.
At that moment, a staff member appeared at the door with a sealed designer bag. "Mr. Bennett."
Ethan stood and walked to the door, taking the bag before turning toward the private suite without another word.
Inside the bag were Olivia's clothes, which Ethan had asked Sarah to pack and Walter to deliver.
Olivia was lying on the bed in Ethan's white shirt, playing with her phone—a new one she'd purchased herself, having abandoned the monitored phone Ethan had given her.
Hearing the door open, she quickly turned.
Ethan approached the bed with the bag, his eyes immediately drawn to her exposed legs—pale, slender, and perfectly proportioned. He noticed the distinctive red marks on her thighs, deeper toward the inner regions.
His Adam's apple bobbed as his eyes darkened. He leaned down, pressing his weight onto her, his large hand gripping her smooth leg.
Before Olivia could recover, she panicked at the thought of another round. "We really can't do it again," she protested, quickly pushing against his chest. Noticing the bag he carried, she changed the subject to distract him. "Are those my clothes?"
"Yes." Ethan's deep voice rumbled as he tossed the bag onto the bed. His hand moved to her neck, his handsome face descending as he kissed her lips.
Olivia tried to dodge but failed, submitting to his kiss.
Ethan kept it brief, sucking gently on her lower lip before releasing her. "Do you know how to use a slingshot?" he asked, his voice low.
"What?" Olivia was confused by the sudden change of topic. She shook her head. "No, I don't."
Ethan looked into her clear, innocent eyes, finding her confused expression adorably naive. His heart softened, and he couldn't help but smile. "I'll teach you later."
Olivia nodded. "Okay."
Ethan glanced down at her pale legs again, his large hand gripping her delicate knee. "And then, you'll shoot back."
Olivia stared at him, bewildered.
Ethan caressed her knee, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Whatever leg they hit you on, you hit them back twice as hard."
Olivia frowned. "But I don't know who did it."
Ethan gripped her knee firmly. "When I tell you who to shoot, just do it. Got it?"