Chapter 10 New Beginnings
Jane: POV
"This place is perfect," I breathed, running my hand along the kitchen countertop as sunlight streamed through the windows.
The Upper West Side one-bedroom wasn't huge, but it felt like freedom.
Hardwood floors extended seamlessly throughout the house, complemented by a cozy yet efficient kitchen.
Most crucially, her presence here spared her from encountering Lucus Shaw.
Christina walked out of the bathroom, nodding approvingly. "Water pressure's decent, no visible mold. I'd call that a win in New York."
The real estate agent, a woman with the fakest smile I'd ever seen and heels that screamed "commission-based income," hovered nearby. "The neighborhood is extremely safe. You've got a Whole Foods two blocks away and the subway is just around the corner."
I moved to the living room window, taking in the view of tree-lined streets below. Not the skyline vista of Lucas's penthouse, but honestly? I'd take this modest view of actual life over sterile luxury any day.
"What do you think?" Christina asked, joining me by the window.
"I love it," I said, surprising myself with how certain I felt. "It's within my budget, the location is perfect, and I can move in immediately."
Christina squeezed my arm. "You know what's weird? Yesterday you were telling Ethan you couldn't find anything, and today—boom—perfect apartment appears."
I hadn't thought about that. "You're right. It's like he's my lucky charm or something." I laughed softly. "He literally told me in the car yesterday that he hoped I'd find a place soon. And here we are."
Christina raised an eyebrow. "Jane, don't be naive. A reasonably-priced apartment in this neighborhood, available immediately? I bet he pulled some strings."
"What? No." But even as I denied it, I wondered if she was right. "Why would he do that?"
"Because he likes you, obviously." Christina rolled her eyes like I was the world's most clueless woman. "And unlike your piece-of-shit husband, Ethan actually wants to help you."
The real estate agent cleared her throat loudly, pretending she hadn't been eavesdropping on every word. "So, shall we proceed with the application?"
I nodded firmly. "Yes. I'll take it."
Thirty minutes later, Christina and I stepped out onto the sidewalk, application submitted, deposit paid. I felt lighter than I had in months.
"We should celebrate," Christina declared. "This is a huge step."
"You're right." I took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. "Coffee?"
"Coffee? Are you kidding me?" Christina looked personally offended. "This calls for actual drinks. And you know who else should join us?"
My stomach fluttered. "Who?"
"Don't play dumb. Text Ethan. Tell him to meet us."
"I can't just text him to come drinking in the middle of the day," I protested. "He's probably busy running his financial empire or whatever."
Christina grabbed my phone from my hand. "If you won't, I will."
"Fine!" I snatched my phone back. "But this feels... I don't know. Inappropriate."
"What's inappropriate is staying married to a man who's fucking his foster sister while emotionally torturing you," Christina said bluntly. "Texting a friend to celebrate your new apartment? Totally appropriate."
I couldn't argue with that logic.
With slightly shaky fingers, I typed: [Found an apartment! Christina thinks we should celebrate. Any chance you're free for a drink?]
I hit send before I could overthink it, then immediately regretted it. "Oh God, that sounds desperate, doesn't it?"
Christina patted my shoulder. "It sounds normal. You'll remember what normal feels like eventually."
My phone buzzed almost immediately. [Congratulations! I'd be delighted to join. I know just the place. Send me your location, I'll have a car pick you up in 20.]
Christina read the text over my shoulder and grinned. "See?"
The "place" Ethan had in mind turned out to be Opulent Retreat, one of those exclusive Manhattan clubs where the entrance was unmarked and the membership fees probably cost more than my annual rent.
"We can't go in there," I whispered as Ethan led us toward the discreet entrance. "This place is members-only."
Ethan smiled. "I'm a member."
Of course he was.
Inside, the club was all dark wood, soft jazz, and bartenders who looked like they held PhDs in mixology.
A host immediately recognized Ethan, addressing him by name and leading us to a secluded corner booth.
"Everything's on my account today," Ethan told the server. "We're celebrating Ms. Mitchell finding her new apartment."
"That's really not necessary," I protested. "We can pay for our own drinks."
"I insist," Ethan said. "Consider it a housewarming gift. You can return the favor once you're settled in."
Christina kicked me under the table, giving me a look that clearly said "shut up and accept."
"Fine," I conceded. "But I'm buying next time."
As the server left to get our drinks, I found myself studying Ethan's face.
There was something so calming about his presence, so unlike the constant tension I felt around Lucas.
I quickly looked away when he caught me staring.
Three cocktails later, I was feeling warm and relaxed, laughing at Christina's outrageous stories about her latest photoshoot disaster.
"So the model shows up covered in hives because she's allergic to the body paint, the photographer's assistant drops an entire lighting rig, and the client is threatening to sue everyone," Christina was saying, barely able to get the words out through her laughter.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed like this—freely, without worrying about Lucas's mood or Serena's next move or what the press might say.
And then, as if my thoughts had summoned him, Lucas appeared beside our table.
"Well, isn't this cozy," he said, his voice dripping with venom. "My wife, out drinking in the middle of the day."
The laughter died in my throat. I straightened, instantly reverting to the tense, guarded person I became in his presence.
"Lucas," I said, keeping my voice level. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm a member," he said, then his gaze shifted to Ethan, whose back was to him. "And who might this be? Your little afternoon delight?"
Christina muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "fucking asshole."
Before I could respond, Lucas leaned forward, trying to get a better look at Ethan's face. "Wait, you look familiar."
My heart raced. This was bad.
If Lucas recognized Ethan Quinn—one of the most powerful men in New York finance—this situation could explode in ways I wasn't prepared to handle.
"He's an old college friend," I lied quickly. "We ran into each other here by coincidence."
Lucas's eyes narrowed. "College friend? Funny, I don't remember you having any male friends from college worth drinking at Opulent with."
"There's a lot about me you don't know," I said, meeting his gaze steadily.
"I seriously doubt that," Lucas sneered. He placed his hands on the table, leaning in until his face was inches from mine. "You think I don't know what you're doing? You think—"
"Shaw!" a voice called from across the room. "You joining this game or what?"
Lucas straightened, glancing toward a group of men gathered around what looked like a poker table. He turned back to me, his expression hardening.
"This isn't over," he said quietly. "We'll continue this conversation at home."
'Not my home anymore', I thought but didn't say.
After he walked away, I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "I'm sorry about that," I said to Ethan.
Ethan, who had remained surprisingly calm throughout the encounter, simply shook his head. "You have nothing to apologize for."
Christina raised her glass. "To Jane's new apartment—and to getting away from that toxic waste dump of a man."
We clinked glasses, but the carefree mood had evaporated.
After another round of drinks and forced conversation that slowly became genuine again, I checked my watch. "I should probably get going. I need to pack my things if I'm moving tomorrow."
Christina stood up, wobbling slightly. "I've got that meeting with the Harper's people in an hour. I should sober up." She turned to Ethan with a suspiciously exaggerated wink. "Ethan, would you mind making sure Jane gets home safely? I'd feel better knowing she's not alone."
Before I could protest, Christina leaned down to whisper something in Ethan's ear, then gave me a quick hug. "Call me tomorrow when you're settling in," she said, and was gone before I could respond.
Ethan and I sat in awkward silence for a moment.
"So," he said finally. "Jane, I'll take you home? My driver is waiting outside."
I nodded. "Yes, please."