Chapter 28 Small Town
I stepped off Ethan's private jet at San Francisco International Airport, deliberately dressed in my plainest white t-shirt and faded jeans. The outfit was my pathetic attempt at armor—as if dressing down could somehow bridge the chasm between who I used to be and who I'd become.
"You okay?" Ethan's hand found the small of my back as we walked across the tarmac.
"Fine," I mumbled, watching airport workers scramble around the sleek aircraft, other travelers glancing our way with undisguised curiosity.
I lowered my gaze to the polished floor, memories flooding back. Four summers ago, I'd hauled luggage at this very airport for minimum wage plus tips, saving every penny for textbooks. Now I was returning as—what? Ethan Bennett's mistress? His possession? The girlfriend who wasn't really a girlfriend?
"Looking forward to showing me your hometown?" Ethan asked, his voice softening as we approached the terminal.
I gave him a weak smile. "It's nothing like your world, Ethan. Don't expect too much."
As we exited the private aviation section, I froze mid-step. Standing beside a gleaming black Range Rover was a tall, handsome man with sandy hair and a familiar crooked smile that had once graced every high school yearbook I owned.
"Noah? Noah Mitchell?" The words escaped before I could stop them.
His eyes widened. "Olivia Reed. God, it's been what, four years?"
For a moment, I was fourteen again, clutching textbooks in the hallway while Pacifica High's star quarterback leaned against my locker, asking me out for the twentieth time.
Noah recovered his composure quickly, straightening his posture. "Mr. Hammond asked me to pick you up personally, Mr. Bennett. He mentioned you were coming to town."
Ethan's body language shifted subtly—something in his eyes hardening from curious to watchful. He extended his hand. "Ethan Bennett."
"It's an honor, sir," Noah replied with practiced deference. "Mr. Hammond asked me to escort you to The Cliff Hotel."
Ethan's gaze flicked between us, quietly assessing. "And how do you two know each other?"
The silence stretched uncomfortably until I felt Ethan's expectant gaze burning into me.
"We went to high school together," I said, the explanation pathetically inadequate.
"Small world," Ethan murmured, his tone neutral but his eyes anything but.
Inside the SUV, Noah drove while stealing glances at me through the rearview mirror. "Pacifica used to be just a sleepy beach town, bottom ten in county income. No colleges, just that vocational school where Mrs. Henley taught accounting."
I stared out the window as familiar coastline slipped past, trying to ignore how Ethan's arm had settled possessively around my shoulders.
"Then the tech boom hit, Silicon Valley overflow," Noah continued. "Victor Hammond came eight years ago, built the marina, then the tech incubator. Now we've got three venture capital firms with offices here."
"And you work for Hammond now?" Ethan's question came wrapped in silk but edged with steel. "Doing what exactly?"
Noah's chest puffed slightly. "Special projects, mostly. Whatever needs handling."
Ethan's thumb began tracing slow circles on my shoulder. "And how did you two know each other, exactly? Just classmates?"
Noah laughed. "Oh, I asked her out every month for two years. Got rejected every time."
My cheeks burned. "I was focused on my scholarship applications."
"Some things are worth persistent pursuit." Ethan's voice was perfectly pleasant, his thumb still making those maddening circles on my skin, but the warning was unmistakable.
The SUV climbed a winding coastal road, finally stopping before a stunning glass and steel structure perched on the cliffside. The Cliff Hotel gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight, its modern angles jutting dramatically over the Pacific.
"This wasn't here when I left," I whispered, staring at what had once been a cluster of weather-beaten fishermen's cottages.
"Mr. Hammond built it three years ago," Noah explained. "It's the crown jewel of the West Coast collection now."
Ethan's arm tightened around me. "We'd like to check in now. The Presidential Suite."
As the hotel staff rushed to collect our luggage, Noah handed Ethan a key card. Before leaving, he reached for my hand. "Hammond's hosting a welcome dinner tomorrow at Pacific Heights Club. 8 PM. Small local affair."
His fingers lingered on mine a second too long.
The moment the elevator doors closed behind us, Ethan's demeanor changed. The Presidential Suite was spectacular—floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the endless Pacific—but I barely registered it. I stood at the window, watching waves crash against the cliffs below.
"Noah Mitchell seems quite fond of you still," Ethan said, stepping behind me, his arms encircling my waist.
I turned in his embrace. "High school was a long time ago."
His fingers captured my chin. "Tell me about him."
"His father runs Mitchell Construction, works for Hammond now. Noah was quarterback, prom king. Every girl's dream except mine."
Ethan's eyes darkened. "And now?"
"And now what?"
He backed me against the window, his lips finding mine in a kiss that was both possession and punishment. When he finally released me, I was breathless.
"Now you're mine," he said, each word deliberate. "And I want your hometown to know it." His fingers traced a path from my jaw down my neck. "Wear the ruby earrings tomorrow. I want everyone to see exactly who you belong to now."
I closed my eyes, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, wondering what "now" truly meant—and how long it would last.