Jasper’s expression shifted. Something more honest broke through. “It’s not easy. I just decided a long time ago that struggling visibly doesn’t get you anywhere.”
Bennett absorbed that. “That sounds lonely.”
“Sometimes,” Jasper admitted. “But effective.”
Bennett nodded slowly, recognizing something familiar in that answer.
Later, when the lights were off, and the space between them felt louder than sound, Jasper stared at the ceiling and let himself acknowledge the truth.
This was not just tension.
And Bennett Shaw was not as unreachable as he wanted the world to believe.
Tomorrow would be interesting.
CHAPTER THREE
bennett
Bennett woke up once in the night to the sound of the wind pressing against the window. For a disoriented second, he forgot where he was.
Then he remembered.
One bed. One room. Jasper Quinn was asleep a careful distance away, as if he had decided restraint was its own kind of politeness.
Bennett stared at the ceiling. His mind catalogued details it had no business noticing. The steady rhythm of Jasper’s breathing. The warmth through the mattress. The quiet ease of a man who could sleep anywhere.
Eventually, Bennett fell back under.
Morning arrived,bright and white. The snow outside reflected light into the room as if the world were trying to be cheerful about this situation.
Bennett sat up slowly. Jasper was already awake, propped against the headboard, infuriatingly relaxed for someone who had shared a hotel bed with a rival.
“You snore.”
“I do not.”
Jasper held up his phone, as if he had evidence. “Softly. Like a disappointed cat.”
Bennett rubbed his face. “If you recorded me, I will sue you.”
“I would never,” Jasper said, then smiled. “Not without monetizing it.”
Bennett swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He kept his focus on the floor, on the tight loop of his own routine: Stand. Stretch. Breathe. Anything that did not involve acknowledging how close Jasper was.
“How bad is it?” Bennett asked.
Jasper glanced out the window. “Snowed in. Roads look terrible. Flights are still grounded.”
Bennett’s stomach sank, despite expecting it. “How long?”
Jasper’s tone softened a fraction. “They are saying another day at least.”
Bennett exhaled. One day turned into two too easily. He pictured the client conference continuing without them, the pitch team scrambling, the optics of two senior leads missing key meetings.
He reached for his phone and immediately found no signal strong enough to be useful.
“Perfect,” he muttered.
