Loving The Better Brother novel Chapter 18

Loving The Better Brother

Finished

Chapter 18 I’m Hot

WILLOW

I took a deep breath before opening the door to the meeting room, mentally bracing myself for what was about to happen.

Chin up. Shoulders back. Act natural. Act professional. Act like you didn’t once hide under this man’s bed and definitely didn’t think about him in ways that were wildly inappropriate.

When I stepped inside, Tristan was already standing near the couch, his back half- turned as he reviewed something on his tablet.

Then he looked up before stopping in his tracks. The shift was subtle, but I saw the way his posture stiffened and the way his eyes narrowed.

I forced myself to mirror his reaction. I couldn’t let him believe I actually knew he was going to come here to present a proposal.

“Tristan?” I asked, letting just enough surprise into my voice.

His lips parted. “Willow,” he muttered. “You’re-”

Before he could say anything that might unravel my carefully constructed lie, I cut in smoothly.

“I’m Miss Florence’s new secretary.”

The words felt strange in my mouth.

He frowned immediately. A deep, unmistakable crease formed between his brows. His eyes searched my face. For a split second, I thought he might call me out.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

“I see,” he said. “Have a seat.”

I lifted a brow slightly. “Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that, since you’re the guest?” I asked, a hint of a smirk slipping out before I could stop it.

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For a moment, the corner of his mouth twitched. Then he shook his head and moved toward the couch.

“Fair enough,” he said.

He sat. I sat across from him, maintaining a professional distance.

This was so awkward.

We were both wearing navy blue. Even our shirts were in the same muted color family.

I hated that my first thought was how good he looked.

He leaned back slightly, studying me. “You’re really working here,” he said.

“Yes,” I replied, clearing my throat. “It turned out that way.”

That was technically true.

Silence stretched between us. It wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t hostile either.

“How have you been?” he asked finally.

There were a thousand answers to that question, but none of them belonged in this room.

“Let’s keep the conversation related to business,” I said.

His lips curved into a slow smirk, and he leaned back more fully, resting his arm along the back of the couch.

“Still avoiding personal conversations, I see,” he said lightly.

I opened my mouth to reply, but he beat me to it.

“You weren’t like that the other night.”

I looked at him sharply. “Mr. Hale.”

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“Yes, Ms. Martin?” he replied smoothly.

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The mention of my old last name nearly caught me off guard. It has been a while since I was called as such.

Martin was Kath’s last name–the name I had carried before I became a Hale. I had been adopted by Kath’s parents when I was seventeen, after years of bouncing between orphanages and temporary homes. Martin was the closest thing I had to a real family name before everything changed.

Hearing it from Tristan’s mouth felt strange.

I cleared my throat, forcing my shoulders back. “Anyway, Mr. Hale,” I said, emphasizing the formality.

“You didn’t call me that the other night, too,” he added. “You were moaning my-”

“Tristan,” I said, fed up with the games.

His smirk deepened into something satisfactory. “Finally.”

I glared at him. “Don’t sound so proud.”

“I am proud,” he said unapologetically. “It took me long enough to get you to say my name.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “You’re red.”

“I am not.”

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“You are,” he insisted, pointing subtly. “Right here. Cheeks. Very red.”

I huffed. “It’s because it’s hot in here.”

“The AC’s cranked up,” he said, glancing briefly at the vent.

“Tristan,” I said in a warning tone.

“All right, all right,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “My apologies.

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But he didn’t look sorry. Not even a little.

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Still, the change in his expression made me slightly relieved. I realized I couldn’t handle his teasing at all.

Fortunately, he asked a different question. “Why would the new heir of Fiorane not want to meet me personally?”

“She’s recovering,” I said smoothly. “She’s been sick because of her father’s passing.”

That part wasn’t even a lie. Grief did feel like a sickness sometimes.

“I see,” he said, his voice softening. “That is heartbreaking.”

He paused. “I apologize for not being here yesterday as well.”

Something twisted in my chest. He kept steering the conversation to places I didn’t want him to go!

“Let’s get down to business,” I said quickly.

At that, he straightened. The change in him was immediate and impressive. Gone was the casual, teasing edge, and in its place was the Tristan Hale the business world respected–and feared.

His expression became serious.

However, even at that moment, I couldn’t help but think he looked annoyingly hot.

He looked up at me, one brow lifting slowly.

“I thought we should get down to business,” he said.

“Huh?” I asked, momentarily thrown off.

“You just said I looked annoyingly hot.”