Jules tilted her head, her eyes scanning his face with casual confidence. “Emotionally bruised. Slightly under-slept. Still ridiculously handsome. I’d say you’re well into the rebound phase.”
“I didn’t think you’d remember me,” Ethan said, stalling for time.
“I remember most people who beat me at chess,” she replied. “Especially when they do it while pretending not to flirt.”
“I was very much not flirting,” Ethan said quickly.
Jules smiled like she didn’t believe him. “Because of Maya. I know.”
“Well that and because Sebastian’s my friend,” he replied.
“Sebastian and I were only married for 16-hours in an attempt to help me get early access to my trust fund,” Jules said. “It’s just a funny story we tell at parties and tease each other about. I promise he doesn’t care.”
Jules leaned in just a little—enough to blur personal space, not enough to break it. “Besides,” she said, voice lower now, “you were interesting even then. All buttoned-up and loyal. You made loyalty look almost… sexy.”
“And now?”
She met his gaze, calm and direct. “Now, you’re not taken. And I hear your ex is doing sunrise mantras in Bali with your former business partner.”
Ethan winced. “Bad news travels fast.”
“I may have some interests in competing wellness ventures,” she said with a mischievous smile.
From across the rooftop, Ethan caught sight of Sebastian watching them, a knowing smile playing at his lips. Sebastian raised his glass slightly in acknowledgment before turning back to his conversation with Luca.
Ethan paused, running a hand over the back of his neck. “This is probablya terrible idea.”
“Probably,” Jules agreed. “But I’ve never let that stop me.”
Her hand brushed his as she took the drink from his hand and sipped it. Just a whisper of contact, light and deliberate.
He didn’t move.
“Sebastian brought you here to be seen,” she observed. “To show the world—and Maya—that you’re doing just fine.”
“Wow, is it that obvious?” He said with a sigh.
“Transparent,” Jules confirmed. “But effective. Want to make it even more effective?”
Ethan raised an eyebrow, “More effective, how?” he asked.
Jules smiled, slow and wicked. “Follow me.”
She guided him toward the best-lit section of the terrace, where the crystal installation above cast prismatic light patterns across their faces. She positioned them perfectly—visible from every angle, caught in what looked like magical lighting.
“Smile,” she murmured. “You’re about to break Instagram.”
Before Ethan could object, she slipped her phone from her clutch, turned slightly into him, and snapped a photo. The angle was perfect—cheekbones catching the crystalline light, city skyline behind them, her gold dress catching fire in the lens.
She showed him the photo. He looked tired, maybe, but devastatingly so.
She typed something—quick, confident—and he watched as she posted it to her story with zero hesitation.
Ethan studied her, then really looked. Past the sparkle and the smirk, past the confidence she wore like perfume. There was something steadier beneath it all. Not softness exactly—but awareness. She wasn’t here to play savior. She knew the terrain.
And he hated how much that steadied him.
“I should go,” he said quietly.