Loving The Better Brother novel Chapter 3

WILLOW

Tristan Hale wasn’t someone I knew well.

I had met him in passing at family dinners and brief introductions. He was the original heir to the Hale enterprise, the first son, the one their father had trusted without question. He was also the man Marcus resented the most.

Tristan was everything Marcus wanted to be and couldn’t quite reach. He was smart and capable. He was handsome in a way that didn’t feel curated for magazines, though they still chased him relentlessly. He was single, untouchable, and currently the most wanted bachelor in every business column.

Even the front desk assistant wanted him.

I saw it in the way her posture shifted and how her voice softened when she said his name.

“Willow,” Tristan said calmly.

I pursed my lips. Hearing my name from his mouth felt… strange. He said it evenly, without judgment or surprise.

“I just wanted to return this,” I said, lifting my hand slightly to show the necklace. “But she won’t let me.”

I didn’t look at the front desk assistant as I said it. I felt her stiffen.

Tristan’s gaze flicked briefly in her direction.

“Please,” he said, already turning toward the elevator. “Come with me.”

I hesitated for a second before nodding and following after him. The click of his shoes against the floor was unhurried. Behind us, I could feel the assistant still frozen.

The elevator doors closed softly.

Neither of us spoke.

The ride up felt longer than it should have, filled with silence that was strangely not awkward. Tristan stood beside me, hands loosely at his sides.

His office was nothing like Marcus’s.

There were no gaudy displays of wealth. The moment I stepped inside, the first thing that struck me was the scent.

It smelled like fresh paper and polished wood, with a faint undertone of bergamot. Whatever it was, it smelled like him.

Tristan moved behind his desk and took his seat, motioning for me to sit across from him. I remained standing instead.

I placed the necklace on the smooth surface of the table between us. The diamonds caught the light, glittering faintly.

His gaze dropped to it.

“This necklace,” he said slowly. “Marcus gave it to you?”

“Yes.”

He hummed softly, leaning back in his chair. “Interesting.”

“Why?” I asked.

He studied the necklace for another moment before lifting his eyes to meet mine.

“I specifically remember him asking me to buy him this,” Tristan said.

The words hit me immediately.

I stared at the necklace, heat rising to my cheeks—not from embarrassment, but from anger. I pursed my lips hard.

“Cheapskate,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

Tristan’s mouth twitched.

“He wanted it returned,” I added flatly. “Apparently, it was expensive.”

His brow lifted. “Yet it wasn’t even his.”

I shifted my legs, suddenly aware of how tired I felt.

“Is he here?” I asked after a moment.

Tristan shook his head. “No.”

“He’s with Serena,” he continued evenly. “Our business partner.”

I pressed my lips together again.

I remembered the moment when Marcus was elated because his brother was removed. He said he had done some things, but knowing him now, he must have whined relentlessly.

“Apparently,” Tristan added dryly, “my presence was ‘demoralizing.’”

I snorted in amusement.

“That bad?” I asked.

He looked at me. “Worse.”

Silence settled again, thicker this time. I was suddenly aware of how close I was to his desk, how the scent of his office clung to the air.

“So,” Tristan said, leaning forward slightly. “Willow.”

He said my name again, and this time, it landed differently.

He looked directly into my eyes.

It was then that I really saw him.

Not as Marcus’s older brother. Not as the heir. Not as the name whispered in boardrooms and business columns.

But as a man.

He was… damn sexy.

The realization caught me off guard, almost embarrassing in its suddenness. I’d never allowed myself to look at him properly before. I never had the reason, or perhaps the permission. But now, with nothing tying me back, nothing asking me to look away, the details surfaced all at once.

I swallowed.

“Do you want to go?” he asked again, his voice lower now.

For a moment, I forgot about Marcus. I knew I shouldn’t even consider his offer. He was a Hale after all—the very brother of the man I was divorcing.

But heck, I really needed a drink, and this sexy man was offering me his presence.

With that, I gave a small nod. “Let’s have a drink then.”