Chapter 13

Ethan Cole put her bag in the back seat, opened the door, and stepped aside with a courteous gesture.

Elise hesitated. Had Julian really told him to use his own car for her?

“My brother asked you to drive this one?”

Ethan inclined his head. “Would you prefer a different car? I can speak to Mr. Whitmore and arrange a change.”

“No, that’s all right,” she said quickly. She had no car of her own. Any replacement would probably belong to Julian too, so what difference would it make?

Still, he had just bought this one. Why was she getting the first ride?

They were about to leave when someone tapped lightly on the rear window. Elise turned. Julian stood beside the car, looking down at her with a gentle expression.

She lowered the window.

“I need to go to the office. Could you give me a lift?”

It was his car. How had she become the one giving him a lift?

She moved farther across the seat, and Julian got in. He glanced toward the front and met Ethan’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Good morning, Mr. Whitmore.” Ethan stiffened. His hands and feet suddenly felt awkward, and his expression grew considerably more solemn.

Julian acknowledged him with a small nod, then turned to Elise. “Where are you headed?”

“The library. I want to borrow some books.”

“Library first,” he told Ethan. “Then take me to the office.”

Ethan collected himself and started the car. He was still trying to absorb the way Julian had spoken to his sister. Gentle was the only word for it.

At the company, Julian rarely smiled. He made decisions quickly and expected them carried out just as fast; his employees hardly dared breathe too loudly around him. In all Ethan’s years there, he had never heard him speak to anyone like that.

After a moment, Elise asked, “Julian, aren’t you going to take the new car out yourself?”

His eyebrows lifted. “You don’t like it? We can go back and choose another one. Or buy one you do like.”

“That’s not what I meant. Usually, when someone buys a new car, they want to be the first to try it. But you…”

Now he understood. He had told her she was buying the car for him, when he had meant it for her all along. He would have to keep that story straight.

“Having you try it out for me works just as well, Ellie,” he said gently.

She met his eyes, then looked away, uncomfortable with their warmth. What a wasteful man. He could hand his brand-new car over to someone else without a second thought. He didn’t even seem particularly excited about it. Why buy it in the first place?

The more she thought about it, the more annoyed she became. She turned away and stared out the window.

Silence settled over the back seat. Up front, Ethan scarcely dared breathe.

Julian looked at the back of his sister’s head. Ordinarily, he would use the drive to get some work done. Today, he had no desire to take out his laptop.

He just wanted a little more time with her.

Elise suddenly reached behind her head and gave a quiet cry.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She drew a loose section of hair forward. Yesterday, while helping her try on clothes, Olivia had woven a few small braids into her long, straight hair. They had made her look livelier, prettier. One had come undone, leaving the strands crimped where they had been braided.

“One of my braids fell apart,” she said helplessly.

Julian’s gaze followed the loose hair. The wavy, fluffy section stood out against the smooth lengths around it.

“Shall I braid it again for you?”

Only after the offer was out did he realize how absurd it was. He didn’t know how to braid hair. He had seen the little crease between her brows, seen that something was bothering her, and the words had come before he could think.

Elise turned toward him. Her annoyance vanished. He knew how to braid hair?

She certainly didn’t. Besides, the loose section was at the back of her head, where her hands couldn’t manage it properly. Leaving it like this would look untidy, and then everyone would stare.

After a moment’s consideration, she shifted closer to him. “It doesn’t have to be pretty. Just make it presentable.”

Julian sat straighter and combed through the strands with his fingers, taking extraordinary care. He studied the intact braids, then tried to copy them, his fingers moving clumsily through her soft hair.

Before long, he was frowning. He had held his wrists so tensely that they had begun to ache.

He had to admit it: this was much harder than work.

Elise felt the occasional tug, the pauses while his hands hovered uncertainly. So he didn’t know how after all.

Her mouth curved. She could almost picture him behind her, utterly at a loss over one small section of hair, and something in her softened.

Julian’s frown never eased. He concentrated so fiercely that a light sweat began to gather on his forehead.

Ethan happened to catch sight of them in the mirror and immediately wished he hadn’t looked.

Was Julian Whitmore actually braiding his little sister’s hair?

He had seen the man sit through meetings for projects worth hundreds of millions of dollars. Even then, Julian had never looked this tense, as though one wrong move would ruin everything.

Ethan could barely contain his astonishment. His very first day in the new job, and he had discovered a major secret: the famously cold Mr. Whitmore doted on his little sister.

Julian finished the last section and secured it with the hair tie. Only then did he let out a breath. He examined his work. It was rough, nowhere near as neat as the other braids, but from a distance it would do.

“All done.”

Elise reached back to feel it and got a fairly good idea of the result. It wasn’t much of a braid, but she was more than satisfied. A warm feeling spread through her as she smiled at him.

“Thank you, Julian.”

He lifted his eyes and couldn’t resist ruffling her hair once. “You’re welcome.”

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She took it out.

Someone had tagged her in her old school’s class group chat. When she opened it, she found several more tags from former classmates, all asking what was going on.

They were discussing the same thing: a topic that had stayed on the trending list all night.

Elise frowned and scrolled back through the messages. Someone had argued with the people attacking her online. The crowd had turned on that person, and after someone claimed to have traced their IP address, everyone had decided the defender must be Elise using an alternate account.

But she didn’t even use X. Where was she supposed to have gotten an alternate account?

She downloaded the app and opened it. #EliseWhitmoreAlt was still seventh on the trending list. The attention hadn’t died down yet.

“LMAO. No wonder her brothers can’t stand her. All she does is lurk and sneak out on an alt to fight people. Creepy as hell.”

“She doesn’t have a single photo with her brothers. They don’t even take her out to dinner, only Vivian. When that many people dislike you, maybe look at yourself. What good does attacking us do?”

“Is the person who traced the IP still here? That isn’t solid proof yet. Dig up something more.”

“What more do you need? It’s practically confirmed. You seriously think Elise Whitmore has actual fans?”