Chapter 113 Treat Her Like A Child
October in Los Angeles was still warm by most standards, but a surprising chill had settled into the evening air. The breeze carried a hint of ocean salt, rustling through the ornamental palms that lined the private drive.
Where the palms gave way, an imposing modern structure rose against the twilight sky—all clean lines and understated luxury.
The entrance was paved with dark granite steps, flanked by two abstract metal sculptures that served as contemporary guardians. No sign announced the establishment's name; only four illuminated numbers glowed discreetly on one side: 1607.
This was Horizon Club—Los Angeles' most prestigious members-only establishment, created and managed by Alexander Fuller.
I stepped out of the car onto the pavement. My footsteps made soft sounds against the scattered leaves, creating a gentle rustling as I walked toward the entrance.
The heavy glass doors slid open, spilling warm light onto the entrance. Alexander stood in the doorway, his perpetually amused expression firmly in place as he spotted Ethan.
"Bennett, my man," Alexander immediately widened the door, stepping aside with exaggerated deference. "Please, come in. Olivia too, of course."
I smiled politely at Alexander, but before I could properly greet him, Ethan's hand caught the back of my neck, firmly pressing my face against his chest. The message couldn't have been clearer—I wasn't allowed to smile at other men, not even his friends.
Alexander shook his head, laughing. "Hopeless case."
I mentally agreed. Absolutely right—Ethan Bennett was truly a hopeless case, a complete psycho!
During our drive here, Ethan had interrogated me: "Do you understand what I want?"
I understood perfectly. Ethan simply wanted to conquer me. A man who'd never tasted failure couldn't accept being rejected. His wounded pride made him determined to possess not just my body but also my heart.
I could surrender everything else, but my feelings weren't something I could fake. I couldn't force myself to love him—especially when his aggressive demands pushed me further away.
I hadn't responded to his question, refusing to engage in another pointless argument. We'd sat in cold silence for almost fifteen minutes until Alexander's call broke the standoff.
Now, Ethan pulled me possessively against him as we entered the club.
"Boss is here," Jackson Hayes called out when he saw Ethan, his voice carrying across the polished interior.
Ethan acknowledged him with a slight nod.
Jackson approached, offering a cigar from a polished wooden case. "Knew you were coming, so I had a box of Cohiba Spectre flown in from New York."
The Cohiba Spectre in Jackson's hand was limited annual production, aged tobacco leaves processed through multiple fermentations, hand-rolled by master craftsmen, then aged in controlled humidors to perfect the flavor.
To light such a cigar wasn't merely smoking—it was igniting a status symbol, a declaration: "I don't care about price; I care about exclusivity and refinement."
Ethan wasn't pretending, though. He genuinely preferred this particular blend—the subtle notes of cocoa and nuts that opened into complex layers of oak and leather as the cigar burned.
The Spectre was the Rolls-Royce of cigars. Everything from leaf selection to rolling was meticulously done. Even the box was a handcrafted work of art—polished wood with a cedar lining and metal accents, each individually numbered.
Ethan accepted the cigar with a slight curl of his lips, that dangerous half-smile that was both lazy and intimidating. He placed it between his lips, biting down lightly on the end.
Jackson quickly flicked his lighter, producing a flame with a soft click. He carefully raised it to Ethan's cigar, lighting it with practiced precision.
I watched this ritual from a few steps away, once again struck by Ethan's position in this world. Los Angeles elite, business mogul—these weren't just empty labels. This man commanded respect everywhere, from California to Southeast Asia, where he could intimidate drug lords and influence foreign affairs with terrifying efficiency.
How could I not be afraid of someone with that kind of power?
"What are you looking at?" Ethan caught me staring blankly ahead.
Unfortunately, at that exact moment, a man emerged from a side entrance.
I snapped back to reality, accidentally making eye contact with him.
The man wore a casual white suit that emphasized his tall frame, broad shoulders, and narrow waist. Unlike the other privileged men I'd met through Ethan, he possessed a cool, refined dignity. The others displayed swagger and arrogance, but none had this elegant scholarly quality.
Just as I regained focus, Ethan noticed my momentary attention on the man. His hand shot out, gripping my face and turning it toward him. As punishment, he bit my lip hard.
Jackson coughed, turning away to hide his smile.
"You're sick," I hissed, touching my tender lip.
Ethan positioned himself between the man and me, physically blocking my view.
The man approached, smiling politely. "Congratulations on securing the Southeast Asian market without breaking a sweat, Bennett."
Ethan's mouth curved slightly. "It required some effort. Almost cost me my life."
Jackson handed the man a cigar too, and the three men gathered by the water feature, smoking and discussing business. I listened without interest, moving to a nearby table.
Ethan didn't stop me but called after me: "Don't wander off."
Jackson grinned. "Why are you treating her like a child?"
Alexander returned just in time to hear this. "Compared to Bennett, isn't Olivia basically a child?"
Ethan exhaled smoke, fixing Alexander with a cold stare. "Club too quiet lately?" Then, switching topics abruptly: "Since you've got so much free time, tomorrow you can help manage the new facility in Myanmar."
Alexander backed away, hands up defensively. "No, no, boss. I'm too delicate for that kind of work."
Jackson laughed. "Even a delicate young woman went there. Surely you're not weaker than her?"
Alexander smirked and made a crude comment: "Anyone who can survive under Bennett this long can't be weak."
The others struggled not to laugh as no one took his bait.
Alexander immediately regretted his words, but before he could apologize, Ethan's foot connected with his chest, sending him flying into the water with a loud splash.
I turned at the sound, seeing Alexander flailing in the pool.
Ethan, acting as if nothing had happened, casually walked toward the main building, hands in pockets.
Jackson and the others followed him without hesitation.
Alexander spotted me and waved: "Olivia, help me!"
I ignored him, hurrying from the table. As I passed the pool, I quickened my pace.
Suddenly, a rock flew from nowhere, striking my knee. My leg buckled, foot slipped, and I tumbled into the water with a splash.
The sound made the men ahead turn around.
Ethan slowly pivoted, just in time to see me struggling in the water.
Jackson raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Wow, Olivia's really kind, jumping in to save Alexander."
Ethan's face darkened dangerously, his entire demeanor radiating cold fury.
Jackson quickly corrected himself: "Probably just slipped in accidentally. Olivia doesn't seem like someone who'd get involved in others' problems."
Ethan turned to Jackson, narrowing his eyes. "Oh? You know her that well?"