The Price of Desire

Chapter 12: Wings Over Water

Ethan stood on the tarmac, the wind tugging at his jacket as the private jet’s engines hummed behind him, a low growl against the gray Portland sky. It was Friday morning, just past 9 a.m., and the air smelled like jet fuel and rain, the kind of damp that clung to everything. He’d barely slept—two hours, maybe, after pacing his penthouse all night, Lila’s text looping in his head: Fine. Just tired. See you tomorrow. She’d gone quiet after that, and he’d felt the shift, the distance, like she was pulling back without saying why. He didn’t know what Victor Crane had told her—didn’t need to. The guy was a snake, always had been, and whatever he’d said had spooked her. Ethan could see it in her eyes yesterday, the way she’d flinched when he got close, the way she’d sent him off with a nod instead of a fight.He’d texted her at dawn, impulsive and half-crazy: Take the weekend off. Bring Sophie. I’ve got a place on the coast—jet’s ready. She’d called him ten minutes later, her voice rough with sleep and skepticism. “A jet? Are you serious?” He’d said yes, and after a long pause, she’d agreed—wary, but in. Now here he was, waiting, his hands shoved in his pockets, wondering if this was a mistake or the best damn idea he’d had in years.The black SUV he’d sent pulled up, tires crunching on the asphalt, and Lila stepped out, Sophie’s small hand in hers. She wore a faded denim jacket over a black sweater, her dark hair loose and wild from the wind, and Sophie bounced beside her in a purple coat, a backpack slung over one shoulder. Lila’s eyes met his, guarded but curious, and he felt that pull again—the one that’d kept him coming back to her bakery, the one that’d made him kiss her until he couldn’t think straight.“Morning,” he said, stepping forward as the driver unloaded a duffel bag—hers, he guessed, simple and worn like everything she owned. “You made it.”“Barely,” she said, her voice dry. “Sophie wouldn’t stop asking about the plane.”“It’s big!” Sophie piped up, craning her neck to stare at the jet, a sleek Gulfstream G650 gleaming white against the clouds. “Does it have wings?”Ethan laughed, crouching to her level. “Yeah, kiddo. Big ones. Wanna see inside?”“Yes!” She tugged free of Lila’s hand, darting toward the steps, and Ethan glanced at Lila, catching the faint smile she couldn’t hide.“She’s excited,” he said, standing. “You?”“Still deciding.” She adjusted the strap of her bag, her eyes flicking to the jet. “This is… a lot.”“Too much?” He kept his tone light, but he watched her, needing to know where she stood.“Maybe.” She sighed, brushing hair from her face. “But we’re here. Let’s go.”He nodded, leading her to the steps, and they climbed aboard, Sophie already bouncing in the cabin ahead of them. The interior was all cream leather and polished wood—seats that swiveled, a table with a built-in screen, a bar he rarely touched. Sophie squealed, flopping onto a seat twice her size, and Lila froze, taking it in.“Jesus, Ethan,” she muttered, setting her bag down. “This is bigger than my apartment.”“Probably quieter, too,” he said, and she snorted, easing into a seat across from Sophie. He sat beside her, close but not touching, the space between them humming with everything they weren’t saying.The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom—Cleared for takeoff, Mr. Voss—and the jet rolled forward, engines roaring as it lifted off. Sophie pressed her face to the window, gasping as the ground fell away, Portland shrinking into a patchwork of gray and green. Lila gripped the armrest, her knuckles white, and Ethan leaned in, voice low. “You okay?”“First time flying,” she admitted, her jaw tight. “Not a fan.”“Hold my hand if you want.” He offered it, palm up, and she hesitated, then took it, her fingers cold but firm. He squeezed back, steadying her, and didn’t let go until the jet leveled out, the clouds a soft blur outside.The flight was short—thirty minutes, tops—and Sophie filled it with chatter, asking about dogs and clouds and if the jet could land on water. Ethan answered, keeping it light, but his eyes kept drifting to Lila, her silence louder than Sophie’s questions. She stared out the window, her hand still in his, and he wondered what she’d found—because she’d looked, he was sure of it. Victor’s poison had sent her digging, and he didn’t blame her. He just wished he’d told her first.They landed on a private strip near the coast, the estate’s cliffs rising sharp against the ocean, and a car waited to take them the last mile. Sophie ran ahead, marveling at the waves, while Lila trailed behind, her duffel slung over her shoulder. The house loomed as they approached—glass and stone, sprawling and quiet, the same place he’d hosted the event last week. He’d had the staff clear out, wanting it just them, no interruptions.“Wow,” Sophie breathed, spinning in the foyer, her sneakers squeaking on the marble. “It’s like a castle!”“Close enough,” Ethan said, setting their bags down. “Pick a room upstairs, kiddo. Lila, you too.”Sophie bolted up the stairs, and Lila lingered, her eyes scanning the space—high ceilings, ocean views, a fireplace big enough to stand in. “This is yours?”“Yeah. Bought it after… everything.” He shrugged, avoiding the details. “Needed somewhere to think.”She nodded, not pressing, and followed Sophie up, her steps slow like she was still deciding if she belonged here. He gave them space, heading to the kitchen to unpack the groceries he’d had delivered—pizza stuff for Sophie, steak and wine for later, basics to keep them fed. By noon, Sophie was settled in a room with a balcony, her crayons spread across the floor, and Lila came down, her jacket off, looking less guarded but still wary.“Nice place,” she said, leaning against the counter as he sliced tomatoes. “Quiet.”“Too quiet sometimes.” He glanced at her, wiping his hands on a towel. “You hungry?”“Sophie is. Pizza?”“On it.” He started the oven, and she stepped in, grabbing dough from the fridge, her hands moving like they did at the bakery—quick, sure, a dance he could watch all day. They worked together, her rolling, him topping, Sophie running in to demand extra cheese. The kitchen smelled like yeast and oregano, and for a minute, it felt normal—three people, a meal, no shadows lurking.They ate on the deck, the ocean crashing below, Sophie chattering about flying dogs while Lila picked at her slice, her eyes on the horizon. After, Sophie begged to explore, and Ethan led them down a path to the beach, the sand cold under their feet. Sophie ran ahead, chasing waves, and Lila walked beside him, her hands in her pockets, the wind tugging at her hair.“She loves it here,” he said, watching Sophie splash in the shallows.“Yeah.” Lila’s voice was soft, almost lost in the surf. “Thanks for this. She needed it.”“And you?” He stopped, turning to her, needing to know.She met his gaze, her hazel eyes searching his. “I don’t know yet.”He nodded, letting it sit, and they walked on, Sophie’s laughter pulling them forward. The day stretched—sandcastles, a picnic of leftovers, Sophie napping on a blanket while he and Lila sat by the water, the sun dipping low. The air cooled, and she shivered, her sweater thin against the breeze.“Here.” He shrugged off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders, and she didn’t pull away, just looked at him, the weight of her questions hanging between them.“Ethan,” she started, her voice low, “I looked you up.”He tensed, but he’d expected it. “Yeah?”“Found a lot. Crash. Elise. Lawsuits.” She swallowed, her hands twisting in her lap. “Victor said you’re dangerous. Articles said worse. But some… some said you’re not that guy.”“I’m not.” He kept his voice steady, his eyes on hers. “Not anymore. I f****d up, Lila. I rushed something I shouldn’t have, and it cost me everything. I live with it every day.”She nodded, slow, like she was piecing him together. “Why didn’t you tell me?”“Didn’t want you to run.” He exhaled, rough. “You and Sophie—you’re the first thing that’s felt right since then.”Her breath hitched, and she looked away, the waves filling the silence. Night fell, and they carried Sophie inside, her small body limp with sleep. Lila tucked her in, and Ethan waited downstairs, pouring wine by the fireplace, the crackle of logs the only sound until she joined him.“Wine?” He offered a glass, and she took it, sitting across from him, the firelight dancing on her face.“Thanks.” She sipped, then set it down, her hands restless. “This place—it’s beautiful. But it’s lonely, isn’t it?”“Yeah.” He leaned back, the wine untouched in his hand. “Keeps the noise out.”“And the people?” She tilted her head, her voice soft but pointed.“Most of them.” He met her gaze, holding it. “Not you.”She didn’t reply, just watched him, and the air thickened, charged like it had in the bakery. He set his glass down, crossing to her, and she didn’t move, didn’t flinch, just let him sit beside her, close enough to feel her warmth. “Lila,” he said, his voice rough, “I’m not here to hurt you.”“I know,” she whispered, and then she was kissing him—slow, tentative, her hands on his chest, his sliding to her waist. It wasn’t the frantic heat of the kitchen, but something deeper, softer, a question they both answered with every touch. The fire popped, the ocean roared outside, and for the first time in years, Ethan felt like he could breathe.