Chapter 147 The Harder They Resist
Jackson Hayes might appear casual and careless, but he was remarkably efficient when it counted. Ethan kept him around because beneath the playboy facade lay genuine competence.
"I've got the information, Ethan," Jackson said, completing the assignment in under two hours.
Walter had just sent someone to the West Wing to inform Ethan that the Sullivans had arrived at the estate. Ethan headed toward the main house while keeping Jackson on the line.
"Cut the bullshit and get to the point," Ethan said, his voice low and authoritative.
Jackson chuckled. "I'm getting there, but you might be surprised. You probably didn't realize the deep connections you have with both Ms. Sullivan and Ms. Pearson. Back when you—"
"I said get to the fucking point," Ethan cut in, impatience edging his tone.
"Alright, alright. Emily Sullivan and Victoria Pearson attended the same university, same year, same program. You were their instructor during their freshman summer training camp when you were a senior."
Ethan's brow furrowed slightly. He vaguely remembered being assigned as a training instructor for two universities during his senior year—a two-week program the school had arranged. But he couldn't recall which schools or departments they were from, let alone any specific students.
Jackson continued, "Sullivan and Pearson couldn't stand each other from day one. Sullivan mocked Pearson because her mother was the 'other woman' in her father's marriage, and Pearson retaliated by calling Sullivan a 'rat.' One attacked the other's family background, and the other attacked her appearance."
Jackson laughed heartily at this point. "Sullivan looked completely different before her surgeries. She was practically Matthew Sullivan's twin. I'll send you a photo of what she looked like then."
A notification sound indicated Jackson had sent an image, but Ethan didn't even bother opening it. He had zero interest in Emily Sullivan's pre-surgery appearance.
"Moving on from their pre-college lives, since they didn't know each other then and had no connection to you, I'll focus on when they met you during their military training," Jackson said, returning to the relevant information.
Ethan walked briskly across the estate grounds. "Just the highlights."
Jackson chuckled. "The highlight is how magnetic you were—and still are. Don't tell me you're not aware of your own appeal. No man with your looks is oblivious to his effect on women."
"You were only twenty, in your prime. Even at the military academy, you stood out, let alone at civilian universities. Six-foot-three, broad shoulders, narrow waist, chiseled features, intense eyes, commanding presence—you had those poor inexperienced freshmen girls practically swooning when you walked in."
"Both Sullivan and Pearson fell for you instantly, along with countless others I won't mention so your ego doesn't explode."
Ethan had reached the main courtyard, his expression impassive. "Get on with it."
"Near the end of the training camp," Jackson continued, "Pearson wrote you a love letter. She planned to slip it into your pocket after dismissal, but Sullivan somehow got hold of it and read it aloud to everyone. You stepped in to defend Pearson and reprimanded Sullivan."
Ethan's brow creased slightly. Had that actually happened? He had no recollection of it whatsoever.
"I know you don't remember," Jackson said, seeming to read Ethan's mind. "But I wouldn't fabricate this information."
"Afterward, you went to serve at the northwestern border. Sullivan studied abroad during her junior year, and Pearson also went overseas after graduation."
"Keep this information confidential," Ethan said firmly. He didn't want any of this reaching Olivia's ears. She was already insecure and prone to overthinking—hearing about women from his past would only fuel her anxiety.
Jackson's tone shifted to one of affected injury. "Of course. I'd never leak information about you. Even if I were inclined to—which I'm not—I wouldn't dare risk it."
"Good," Ethan replied curtly. After a brief pause, he added, "That project you mentioned last time—send the proposal to Justin tomorrow."
Jackson's excitement burst through the phone. "Ethan, you're the best!"
Ethan ended the call and looked up to see Emily Sullivan standing under a palm tree.
Standing beside her was Henry, her cousin.
"Always the busy man," Emily said with a practiced smile, walking toward him. "Discussing business even during the holidays."
Henry also stepped forward, extending his hand. "Mr. Bennett."
Ethan shook Henry's hand briefly, then turned his attention to Emily, giving her a curt nod.
Emily removed her gloves, revealing a manicured hand with pink polish. With a sultry smile, she extended her hand toward him.
"Won't you shake my hand too, Ethan?"
Ethan's gaze flickered to her outstretched hand, a fleeting look of disgust crossing his features before his face settled into a cold, distant smile.
His smile held no warmth, no connection. It was merely a formality—the bare minimum social courtesy.
Emily, however, seemed captivated by that smile. She admitted to herself that she had always been attracted to cold, aloof men like Ethan. Men who were easily attainable, who came when called and left when dismissed, held no appeal for her. Men like Ethan—untouchable, standing at the summit—those were the ones worth conquering.
The more difficult something was to obtain, the more satisfying it was when finally possessed.
Ethan observed Emily with detached interest, seeing through her ambition and manipulative intent. His sharp eyes narrowed slightly as his lips curved into a knowing half-smile.
"Ms. Sullivan, don't forget our agreement," he said, his voice carrying a subtle warning.
Without waiting for a response, he walked past Henry and Emily, leaving them standing in the courtyard. He showed no regard for proper host etiquette—his contempt was palpable.
Henry awkwardly cleared his throat. "The third Bennett son has always been like this. Arrogant."
Emily lifted her chin proudly. "He'll come begging for my attention someday."
Henry laughed with exaggerated surprise. "Really? In that case, I need to live to at least a hundred. I'd hate to miss the sight of Ethan Bennett leaning on a cane, begging you for anything."
Emily playfully swatted Henry's arm. "Whose side are you on?"
Henry's smile turned casual. "Yours, of course. But let me offer some advice—don't underestimate Ethan Bennett. He's not like other men."
Emily scoffed. "A man who keeps a college girl as his mistress? How noble can he be? When it comes down to it, he's just another man thinking with his lower half!"
Despite her dismissive words, Emily knew better. Ethan's feelings for that college student seemed genuine and deep—he wouldn't be using her as a shield otherwise. He was protecting the girl.
This realization made Emily's chest tighten with an inexplicable ache. Her desire to possess Ethan only intensified.
Henry, unaware of his cousin's inner turmoil, felt somewhat offended by her crude remark. He coughed uncomfortably but didn't get angry. Instead, he patiently outlined the risks.
"It's not about nobility. It's about complexity. He's not as straightforward as you think. Be careful around him."
Emily raised her hand toward the sunlight, admiring her diamond-studded nails.
Henry tapped the back of her hand. "Stop preening. By the way, what agreement was Ethan referring to just now?"