UNRAVEL ME

CHAPTER 4: THE GALA INCIDENT

POV: d**k Hawthorne

The Hawthorne Charity Gala was an extravagant spectacle of wealth, influence, and carefully manufactured perfection.

Crystal chandeliers illuminated the grand ballroom in golden hues while classical music drifted elegantly through the air. Politicians mingled with billionaires. Investors exchanged calculated smiles over champagne glasses worth more than most people’s salaries.

Every corner of the room radiated power.

And d**k hated every second of it.

He adjusted the cuffs of his tailored black tuxedo impatiently as flashes from reporters’ cameras exploded near the entrance.

“Mr. Hawthorne! Over here!”

“Sir, is it true the resort project is finally back on schedule?”

“What can you tell us about the company restructuring rumors?”

Dick maintained his practiced corporate smile, polished and devoid of sincerity.

Then Grey arrived.

The entire atmosphere shifted.

Dick noticed it instantly.

Grey stepped into the ballroom wearing a charcoal-gray suit that fit him with infuriating perfection. The sharp tailoring accentuated his broad shoulders and lean frame effortlessly. His dark hair was pushed back neatly, exposing those irritatingly calm eyes that always looked like they understood far more than they should.

Several heads turned.

Even the reporters momentarily forgot d**k existed.

Something ugly twisted in his chest.

Jealousy.

Possessiveness.

He refused to identify it.

Grey approached calmly, sliding beside him with infuriating composure.

“You look thrilled to be here,” Grey murmured.

Dick’s smile tightened.

“I’d rather be negotiating with terrorists.”

Grey chuckled softly.

“Smile for the cameras, Dick.”

“I’d rather break your jaw.”

“Not in front of investors,” Grey replied smoothly.

The cameras continued flashing.

To the public, they looked impeccable together—two powerful heirs representing the future of Hawthorne Industries.

Only they knew the hostility simmering beneath the surface.

Inside the ballroom, the tension became unbearable almost immediately.

Executives surrounded Grey within minutes.

Dick watched from across the room as Grey navigated conversations with effortless charisma. Investors laughed at his remarks. Board members listened attentively when he spoke. Even older executives who usually dismissed younger leadership candidates seemed captivated by him.

It irritated d**k more than it should have.

No.

That wasn’t true.

It terrified him.

Because Grey wasn’t merely intelligent.

He was likable.

And in corporate warfare, likability could become far more dangerous than ruthlessness.

“You’re staring,” Mel said quietly beside him.

Dick tore his gaze away from Grey.

“I’m observing.”

“You look like you want to murder him.”

“Depends on the conversation.”

Mel sighed softly, sipping her champagne.

“He’s helping the company, Dick.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then stop treating him like an enemy.”

Dick laughed humorlessly.

“You think he doesn’t want my position?”

Mel studied him carefully.

“I think you’re scared he could actually take it.”

Her words struck deeper than he wanted to admit.

Before he could respond, the chairman approached the stage for the evening speech.

The ballroom gradually quieted.

“Tonight,” the chairman announced warmly, “we celebrate not only philanthropy, but resilience. Hawthorne Industries has faced significant challenges this year, yet we continue moving forward stronger than ever.”

Polite applause echoed.

“Much of that renewed momentum,” the chairman continued, “comes from the remarkable recovery of our resort project under Mr. Grey Sinclair’s leadership.”

The applause intensified.

Dick’s jaw clenched.

Grey remained composed, though clearly surprised by the public acknowledgment.

“And of course,” the chairman added diplomatically, “none of this would be possible without the leadership of our CEO, Mr. Richard Hawthorne.”

More applause followed.

But weaker this time.

Dick noticed.

Of course he noticed.

The humiliation settled beneath his skin like poison.

An hour later, d**k stood alone near the balcony overlooking the city skyline, nursing a glass of whiskey.

Cold night air brushed against his face.

“Sulking alone?” Grey’s voice appeared behind him.

Dick didn’t turn around.

“Shouldn’t you be entertaining your new admirers?”

Grey leaned casually against the railing beside him.

“You’re angry.”

“I’m observant.”

“You’re jealous.”

That made d**k finally look at him.

Grey’s expression remained calm, but there was amusement hidden beneath it.

Dangerous amusement.

“I don’t get jealous,” d**k said coldly.

Grey’s lips curved slightly.

“Right.”

The city lights shimmered beneath them in silence.

Then Grey spoke again, quieter this time.

“You know,” he said, “it wouldn’t kill you to let people help you.”

Dick scoffed bitterly.

“That’s easy for you to say. You haven’t spent your entire life being told one mistake could destroy everything.”

Grey’s expression shifted subtly.

For the first time that evening, the hostility between them softened.

“My father was never impressed by effort,” d**k continued before he could stop himself. “Only results.”

Grey studied him carefully.

“And now you think everyone’s waiting for you to fail.”

Dick hated how easily Grey saw through him.

“I don’t need therapy from you.”

“I’m not offering therapy,” Grey replied calmly. “I’m offering perspective.”

Dick looked away first.

That irritated him too.

The interruption came suddenly.

“Mr. Sinclair!”

A journalist approached them rapidly, microphone already raised.

“There are rumors circulating that the board may eventually consider you as a potential successor to Mr. Hawthorne. Any comments?”

The atmosphere froze instantly.

Dick’s entire body stiffened.

Grey remained infuriatingly composed.

“I’m focused on the resort project,” Grey answered professionally. “Mr. Hawthorne is the CEO of this company.”

“But would you accept the position if offered?” the journalist pressed.

Dick’s patience snapped.

“This interview is over,” he said sharply.

The reporter looked startled.

“With all due respect, sir, investors are curious—”

“I don’t care what investors are curious about,” d**k interrupted coldly. “Print another speculative article about company leadership and Hawthorne Industries’ legal team will bury your publication before sunrise.”

The journalist retreated immediately.

Silence followed.

Grey stared at d**k for several seconds.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You looked ready to kill him.”

“Maybe I was.”

Grey exhaled slowly.

“That rumor bothers you more than you admit.”

Dick stepped closer unconsciously.

“You enjoying this?” he asked quietly. “Watching people compare us?”

Grey didn’t retreat.

“No.”

“Liar.”

Their proximity suddenly felt dangerous.

The city wind moved through Grey’s dark hair while the distant music from the ballroom faded into irrelevance.

Dick became painfully aware of everything.

Grey’s breathing.

His scent.

The sharp intensity in his eyes.

It was suffocating.

Infuriating.

And terrifyingly addictive.

“You keep looking at me like you’re trying to figure something out,” Grey murmured softly.

Dick’s throat tightened.

“And you keep acting like you know me.”

“Maybe I do.”

The tension between them became almost unbearable.

For one reckless second, d**k imagined grabbing him.

Kissing him.

Destroying the distance between them completely.

The thought horrified him.

So he stepped back immediately.

“This conversation is over.”

Grey watched him carefully.

“You’re running again.”

Dick laughed bitterly.

“You have no idea what I’m running from.”

Then he walked away before his self-control completely disintegrated.

Later that night, d**k sat alone inside his penthouse office overlooking the sleeping city.

The gala had ended hours ago, yet Grey remained lodged in his thoughts like a splinter beneath skin.

He loosened his tie aggressively and poured himself another drink.

This was getting worse.

Much worse.

At first, he’d convinced himself it was simple rivalry.

Then obsession.

Then curiosity.

But tonight, standing inches away from Grey beneath the balcony lights, d**k had finally recognized the truth he’d been avoiding.

He wanted him.

Not abstractly.

Not hypothetically.

Physically.

Violently.

Completely.

And that realization unsettled him more than any corporate threat ever could.

His phone vibrated against the desk.

A message from Grey.

The board scheduled another strategy meeting Monday morning.

Try not to threaten any journalists before then.

Despite himself, d**k laughed quietly.

Then another message appeared.

Also… you looked terrifying tonight.

The investors loved it.

Dick stared at the screen for a long moment.

Then slowly typed:

Go to sleep, Grey.

The reply came almost instantly.

You first.

Dick set the phone down immediately.

But the faint smile lingering at the corner of his mouth remained long after midnight.