Ethan, p.1
Ethan, page 1
Ethan
Delaney Diamond
Garden Avenue Press
Contents
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Also by Delaney Diamond
Join my mailing list
About the Author
Blurb
* * *
Sometimes love isn’t enough…
* * *
At the age of seventeen, Skye Thorpe lost her parents and yearns for a family of her own, and she’s certain Ethan Connor is the one to give it to her. After all, they’ve been together for seven years. One night, she broaches the subject of marriage and learns the devastating truth. Ethan has no intention of marrying her.
* * *
Ethan married young and learned the hard way what it was like to be betrayed by the person he loved. After a bitter divorce, he promised himself he would never allow another woman to wreck his life again. So when Skye mentions marriage, he quickly shuts her down.
* * *
To get the life she craves, Skye has no choice but to end the relationship and walk away. But can she really walk away, if Ethan won’t let her go?
Ethan by Delaney Diamond
* * *
Copyright © January 2022, Delaney Diamond
Garden Avenue Press
Atlanta, Georgia
ISBN: 978-1-946302-58-8 (Ebook edition)
ISBN: 978-1-946302-59-5 (Paperback edition)
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and e-mail, without prior written permission from Delaney Diamond.
www.delaneydiamond.com
Chapter One
Bluetooth in his ear, Ethan Connor paced his office atop the building he owned in the middle of Atlanta.
“Why did I hire you?” he demanded of the asset manager on the line. He stopped moving and listened to the response before interrupting. “Those are excuses. We don’t cut corners. If there’s a structural problem, call the engineer and get a proposal to fix the issue. Then send me the new budget. I want both on my desk first thing tomorrow morning.”
With an angry movement, he removed the Bluetooth and stalked over to his desk, an enormous U-shaped structure made of black American oak with silver painted wood feet. On top were two laptops, one of which he opened to start the workday as he always did—by sorting emails.
He sent a note to his in-house broker for a status update on a property under contract. Then he read a memo from an asset manager in Denver who informed him that capital improvements on a newly acquired office building had been completed early, and financial projections were on track for the next quarter.
While reviewing an expense report, a soft knock on the double doors interrupted his concentration. “Come in,” he called.
His executive assistant, Daria, entered carrying a leatherbound notepad tucked against her side and approached his desk. Middle-aged with toffee-colored skin and a rounded figure, Daria had worked for him the better part of eight years. A dependable member of his team who knew when to speak, when to be quiet, and could be trusted with the most sensitive information.
“I didn’t see you come in, yet here you are. Please tell me you didn’t spend the night in your office,” she said.
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
He spent a lot of time at work, putting in long hours every week, and the past couple of days had been no different. Everyone in his life thought he worked too hard. The women, anyway. His girlfriend Skye, his mother, who constantly dropped not-so-subtle hints about wanting more grandchildren, his sisters, his personal assistant, Layla, and Daria.
His office design fit his rigorous schedule. It was the size of an apartment and included a full bathroom. A private dining room accommodated late night meals alone or when meetings with business associates ran late. A conference room behind glass afforded soundproof privacy, and there was an open area with a burgundy leather chair and two black leather couches on opposite sides of a glass coffee table, one of which adjusted into a full-size bed. The only other color in the black and white office was a plush burgundy guest chair in front of his desk. Even the photos on the wall of the buildings he owned were printed in black and white.
There were lots of windows, but the half-drawn shades behind him currently obscured the view and blocked the morning sun.
Daria let out a dramatic sigh but didn’t comment further, knowing it was a waste of her time.
“They emailed the contracts from London—nine o’clock last night,” she said, eyes bright behind the black-framed glasses perched on her nose.
“Someone worked late over there,” Ethan remarked.
“Very late, considering the six-hour difference.”
“Guess they didn’t want to lose the deal after all,” he said dryly.
The London deal had been a thorn in his side, forcing him to fly to the UK months ago because of problems with permits and other issues he had not been made aware of in a timely manner. He had spent way too much energy trying to fix the problem and arguing back and forth over other issues, only to be told the renovations still might not go through.
He finally realized his English “partners” were trying to squeeze more money out of him, but he also recognized he had the upper hand. A position he loved to be in. True enough, he would suffer losses if he walked away, but they were destined to suffer even more. He played hardball and threatened to cancel the project if they couldn’t meet his demands.
Lucky for him, they didn’t call his bluff and scrambled to save the contract before the eight o’clock deadline this morning.
“I should make them wait on my signature,” Ethan said.
Daria laughed, knowing full well he was going to sign. He might be able to bluff them, but he couldn’t bluff her.
“I forwarded the message before I came in,” she said.
Ethan opened his email and reviewed the contract, with Daria referring to her notes regarding specific items he’d requested. After they made sure the required clauses were included and the ones he didn’t want were excluded, he electronically signed and submitted the contracts.
Daria headed for the open door. “Have you decided what you plan to do for lunch today?” She looked over her shoulder, hand on the door knob.
“Make a reservation for me at Notte.”
“A celebratory lunch?” she asked.
“Absolutely. I’ve earned it and so have you. Buy yourself lunch on me.”
“I already made reservations. You were kind enough to send me flowers too. They’ll arrive before I leave work this evening.” Daria smiled and closed the door.
Chuckling to himself, Ethan shook his head and strolled over to the drafting table where the plans for his biggest project to date were laid out.
He’d worked his whole life for a project like this and couldn’t be prouder. Mixed-use communities were nothing new in Atlanta, but Horizon was the first one southeast of the city.
In conjunction with investor-partners, Connor International Industries had almost completed phase one of the five billion-dollar development, which included space for retail stores and restaurants, one thousand rental apartments priced from mid-range to luxury, and a public park. After the last two phases were completed, the final product would consist of more retail space, single-family homes, a few hotels, and office space.
In addition to the usual walkability and convenience of the work-play community design, he’d brought on an environmental consultant. Among other recommendations, they suggested building geothermal homes and a community garden. Instead of one, Ethan added two gardens, one of which the restaurants already used to provide farm-to-table ingredients in their dishes.
If all went well, in a few years Horizon would be a complete and fully occupied, smoothly functioning community. His greatest accomplishment. Yet…
He frowned. Each year, he achieved greater and greater success. Each year, he worked harder and made more money, but lately he was beginning to wonder what else he could do. There was some goal, some achievement he was missing, but he’d figure it out soon enough.
Until then, he’d bask in the glory of his grandest project.
Ethan stepped out of his office shower and plucked the large, fluffy blue towel from the towel warmer. He and his personal trainer worked hard on weights this afternoon and included a run around the indoor track. He felt energized and ready for the evening’s event—his youngest brother’s graduation party. It was
After drying off and splashing on cologne, he changed into a dark blue suit with a cranberry and cream horizontally striped tie. He double-checked his appearance in the oval mirror and smoothed a hand over the day old stubble lining his jaw. He’d have to shave later at home. Skye didn’t like facial hair.
He sent a text to his personal assistant, instructing her to purchase a shaving kit he could keep at the office.
Then he left, taking the elevator to the first floor where his chauffeur, Halston, waited with the limo door open.
“Mr. Connor,” the big man said. He wore a black uniform and cap, and as a former Navy Seal had the build and square jaw to match.
“Halston.” Ethan climbed into the back and settled in for the ride to pick up Skye at one of his many properties, The Rose Hotel, which he’d named after his mother. He kept a deluxe suite there for when he didn’t want to drive to his mansion outside the city.
They pulled up in front of the hotel, and before Halston could leave the driver’s seat to open the door, Ethan’s foot hit the pavement in anticipation of seeing Skye. He received unprecedented pleasure from watching her simply walk toward him.
She exited the doors, and he drew in a deep breath. After a rough couple of days, seeing her loosened the tightness inside him. The frustrations of the day faded and he immediately relaxed.
Skye Thorpe was a tawny-skinned goddess in an eye-catching cape dress in cranberry-red with gold heels. The red matched the red in his tie, thanks to the diligence of his personal assistant.
Her thick, lustrous hair was swept up on top of her head, and gold hoops adorned her ears. She had the type of body traditional media frowned upon, but he found irresistible as she came toward him with the sexiest damn walk he’d ever seen on a woman. His eyes ate up every curve of her voluptuous body—a body with breasts, ass, and hips galore. She strode toward him like the entrance was a runway, and he tossed around the idea of skipping the party and taking her to bed since they hadn’t seen each other for several nights. He longed to plant his hands on her wide hips and take his time sucking on her luscious breasts.
She’d put a spell on him. There was no other way to explain how, after seven years, she continued to capture his attention simply by making an appearance, much like she did the very first time he’d seen her in the hotel bar. She’d been upset and disappointed because some loser stood her up, and he’d become the luckiest man on the planet when he rescued her from a disappointing night.
Skye sidled up to him—a smile on plump red lips as inviting as a siren’s song—filling the air around them with the scent of her perfume. He slipped an arm around her back and drew her close, gazing down into her dark brown, upturned eyes.
She laughed, knowing he intended to kiss her, because he always did whenever they spent time apart. He had to kiss her. He had to touch her. He had to experience the full power of Skye.
“You’re going to mess up my lipstick.”
“Reapply it.”
He fastened his mouth over hers, kissing her with passion and the assurance of knowing this woman belonged only to him. He let a hand slide lower in a possessive grab of her bottom. Halston remained silent beside the car, eyes respectfully averted.
Skye moaned, and that little sound sent an electric charge straight to Ethan’s groin.
When he lifted his head, he still didn’t let her go. He pressed his hard length into her soft belly. “I hate I have to wait to get you home. It’s been too long.”
“It’s been two days,” she pointed out, a smile of pleasure brightening her face.
“An eternity,” he said.
“And whose fault is that? You’re the one who decided to stay at the office last night when you could’ve been here, in bed with me.”
“Too distracting, but maybe that means my priorities are all screwed up.”
“Yes, they are, but I forgive you.”
She swiped her thumb across his lips, removing the lipstick transferred from her mouth. “And please, shave all of that off as soon as possible.” She slipped into the car.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ethan said with amusement, following her.
Halston closed the door behind them, and they were on their way.
Chapter Two
As Skye exited the limo, she nodded her thanks at Halston as he helped her from the car. She held a red gift-wrapped box in her hand. Tonight, the Connor-Santanas were celebrating Maxwell Santana’s graduation from medical school and the subsequent starting of his residency in a few months. The whole family was proud, and she and Ethan were joining them at his mother’s home for the celebratory party.
Speaking of Ethan…
Skye turned halfway up the stairs. Ethan came slowly toward her, phone attached to his ear.
She cast a disapproving frown at him. “Baby, you can’t go in there with the phone to your ear,” she chided in a whisper.
At times it seemed his work was never done. Despite his amorous greeting, he’d ignored her the entire ride as he talked in low tones to one of his employees in the Hawaii office. She only heard snippets of the conversation, but there seemed to be a problem with the condominiums in Oahu.
He either didn’t hear her chastisement or was ignoring it and kept walking, stopping one stair above her. He turned, a vision of power in a pair of Ferragamo Gancini Oxfords and broad shoulders wrapped in a bespoke navy-blue suit, blocking the light.
Powerful men were an aphrodisiac. Handsome men were too. Ethan was both. He had great bone structure in a classic male face and skin a dark shade of mahogany.
“The phone,” Skye said.
She raised an eyebrow to convey she was serious, and he needed to wrap up the conversation. His eyes narrowed. He didn’t like being told what to do, but she held her ground.
“When do you think you’ll hear from them?” he asked the person on the line.
Skye rested one hand on her hip, so he knew she meant business. Face tightening with resignation, Ethan took several steps away and continued talking, and Skye waited impatiently for him to end the call.
While she waited, a silver Bentley pulled up, and she smiled politely at the new arrivals. She didn’t recognize them and assumed they must be friends of the family because she knew all of Ethan’s stateside family on his mother and stepfather’s side.
With the conversation ended, Ethan approached Skye and extended his arm. “Happy now?” he asked.
She squeezed his firm biceps and experienced a brief thrill, her nipples tightening a little. Ethan took good care of his body, and she was a lucky woman indeed to have all that hard muscle to herself.
She leaned against his powerful frame, taking delight in the combination of his unique male scent and his cologne. He always smelled crisp and clean—like peppermint, but not peppermint.
“Very happy. You know good and well your mother wouldn’t tolerate you coming into her house while you were still working, and I’d be the one in trouble for letting you do it.”
He let out a low laugh—very masculine, very smooth, very Ethan—which softened his profile in such an achingly handsome way, her chest hurt. He could be so serious at times, because of work and the responsibilities of running a multibillion-dollar real estate empire, that she appreciated the moments when he relaxed and enjoyed himself.
Anyway, she knew why he’d been amused by her comment. No one let Ethan do anything. He did as he pleased, and though she’d been stern about him putting away the cell phone, she was well aware he did so because he wanted to, not because she made him.
