Forced To Marry My Cousin's Fiancé

Chapter 24: Chapter 24

Ethan Blackwood had spent the entire morning utterly, thoroughly distracted.

Which irritated him far more than he ever cared to admit to himself.

He sat rigid behind his massive mahogany office desk, his dark eyes staring blankly at the high-priority corporate documents spread before him, while the memory from the previous night replayed itself in his mind yet again without his permission.

Lane standing frozen near the bedroom threshold.

Wrapped only in a single, plush white towel.

Water droplets sliding slowly, agonizingly down the pale slope of her skin.

The absolute, wide-eyed shock painted across her face the exact millisecond their eyes had met.

Ethan cursed softly beneath his breath, a low, gravelly sound, before dragging a hand roughly through his dark hair. He was the head of a multi-billion-dollar empire; he had seen beautiful women before. Countless. Women who were deliberately curated, sophisticated, and actively trying to catch his attention.

But somehow, that raw, unguarded moment with Lane had affected his biology in ways he thoroughly detested.

Maybe it was because she had looked so entirely innocent in the dim light. So desperately embarrassed. So completely, frustratingly unaware of the dangerous effect she was having on him.

Ethan leaned back against the leather of his executive chair, exhaling a sharp, ragged breath into the quiet room. Last night, after she had practically fled back into the safety of the steam-filled bathroom, he had intentionally stayed out in the main bedroom longer, pacing the floor to give her ample time to dress without feeling trapped.

When he had finally entered the space afterward to go to bed, Lane had already buried herself deep beneath the heavy blankets, her back turned to his side of the mattress as she pretended to be fast asleep.

But Ethan was a man who noticed every micro-expression, every shift in data.

He knew with absolute certainty she wasn’t sleeping. He distinctly remembered the way her breathing had hitched, keeping erratic, shallow rhythms whenever he moved around the dark room.

And the absolute worst part of the memory—the part that made his jaw clench until it ached—was that his own body had reacted badly. Very badly.

By the time he had finally entered the bathroom to turn on the shower, he had been painfully, completely hard. The residual memory alone irritated him all over again now, a heavy heat coiling in his gut.

Ethan tightened his fist against the desk. This was rapidly becoming a severe problem.

Because lately, Lane was occupying his thoughts far too often. Her rare, quiet smiles. The soft cadence of her voice. The way her small hand instinctively rested protectively over her stomach whenever she spoke about the baby. And now—this image of her wrapped in that towel refused to leave his head, burning behind his eyelids.

A sharp, polite knock suddenly interrupted the quiet of his office.

Ethan straightened his posture immediately, his expression instantly snapping back into its trademark, frozen mask of corporate authority.

"Come in."

The heavy doors opened, and his personal assistant entered carefully, holding a sleek digital tablet.

"Sir, the quarterly board meeting starts in exactly ten minutes."

Ethan gave a single, tight nod. "I know."

The assistant hesitated near the door, observing the subtle tension radiating from his boss before speaking again with caution.

"Should I move your afternoon schedule around, Mr. Blackwood? You... you seem unusually tired today."

Ethan’s dark eyes shifted up, cooling instantly into a lethal, unyielding glare. "No."

"Understood, sir. I’ll prepare the boardroom." The assistant left quickly, closing the doors without making a sound.

Once the privacy of the executive office was restored, Ethan rubbed his forehead slowly, his fingers pressing into his temples. ’Tired’ wasn’t even the correct word for what was happening to him. ’Restless’ felt infinitely more accurate.

Because no matter how many corporate mergers he managed, no matter how much he tried pushing Lane out of his thoughts—she somehow kept finding a way back in, fracturing his control.

Meanwhile—across the heavy traffic of the city—Lane sat inside her car, her fingers tightly gripping the leather steering wheel while she tried very hard not to think about the previous night either.

Which was proving to be completely, utterly impossible.

The vivid memory kept replaying inside her head over and over again like a continuous film loop. The exact moment Ethan had walked into the bedroom. The way his dark, piercing eyes had scanned her form before immediately darkening with an intensity that had made her throat go dry.

An intense, burning heat crawled back toward Lane’s cheeks even now, making her feel flushed in the air-conditioned car.

"Oh my God..." she whispered softly to herself, hiding her face against the wheel for a brief second while stopped at a red light.

Lane quickly shook her head, forcing her eyes back onto the road ahead. She needed to stop thinking about him. She had to.

Because honestly, she had already spent the last two months trying to bury her deeply rooted feelings for Ethan deep enough that they wouldn’t hurt so badly anymore. She had built walls. And recently, her efforts had actually started working a little bit.

At least until Aunt Catherine had appeared at the estate, suddenly pushing them together every single chance she got, forcing them into a domestic proximity they weren’t prepared for.

Lane let out a soft, weary sigh. Everything felt entirely too confusing lately. Especially Ethan.

Sometimes he still acted like the cold, unyielding stranger he had always been. But other times—he bought her hyper-specific pregnancy cravings at midnight.

Or he sat beside her in a heavy, companionable silence while she ate. Or he looked at her in ways that made her heartbeat completely lose control.

Lane pressed her lips together tightly, focusing her attention entirely on navigating the familiar streets. Today, she had made a spontaneous decision to visit her parents. Her mother and father had finally returned from their extensive trip abroad the previous evening, and Lane genuinely, deeply missed them.

The drive to her childhood home felt comforting, a rare balm for her frayed nerves. It was familiar. Safe. Untouched by the heavy politics of the Blackwood name.

By the time she finally pulled up the long driveway of the massive, welcoming estate, some of the suffocation inside her chest had eased slightly.

One of her family’s long-term maids opened the grand front door warmly the moment Lane stepped onto the porch.

"Miss Lane!"

Lane offered her a soft, genuine smile, stepping into the warmth of the foyer. "Hi, Maria."

The maid immediately noticed the subtle curve of her stomach beneath her clothes, her face breaking into a gentle, motherly smile. "You look absolutely beautiful, ma’am."

Lane’s cheeks warmed faintly at the praise. "Thank you." She slipped her shoes off carefully, her body moving with that new, deliberate slowness, before asking softly, "Where are mom and dad?"

"Madam is currently in the kitchen finishing up lunch," the maid answered politely. "Sir is upstairs in the study."

Lane nodded quietly. But before she could even move farther into the house, her mother’s voice suddenly echoed from the adjacent hallway, sharp and filled with immediate recognition.

"Lane?"

A second later, her mother appeared from the kitchen entrance. The moment her eyes landed on her daughter, she practically hurried across the floor, her arms opening wide.

"My baby."

Lane barely had enough time to react before her mother wrapped both arms securely, carefully around her frame. The familiar, comforting scent of her mother instantly made Lane’s eyes sting with a sudden wave of emotion. Because no matter how complicated her life became, or how old she grew, her mother’s hugs always felt like an absolute sanctuary from the storm.

"I missed you so much," her mother whispered softly against her hair.

Lane hugged her back tightly, burying her face into her shoulder. "I missed you too, Mom."

Her mother pulled back slightly a moment later, her hands gently framing Lane’s face as her eyes scrutinized her appearance.

"You’ve lost weight in your face, sweetheart."

Lane let out a quiet, breathless laugh, trying to brush it off. "Mom, please. I’m fine."

"I’m entirely serious. You look delicate."

Before Lane could offer another reassuring excuse, the heavy sound of footsteps echoed down from the staircase.

Her father descended quickly, a massive, proud smile breaking across his face the absolute moment he caught sight of her.

"There’s my girl."

Lane smiled properly now, the heavy weight of the Blackwood mansion entirely forgotten for a moment. Her father reached the bottom of the steps, pulling her into a careful, protective embrace. "How are you feeling, Lane? Really?"

"I’m okay, Dad. Truly."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, a knowing look in his gaze. "That answer sounds incredibly suspicious to me."

Lane laughed softly again, her heart warming. "I’m really okay."

Her parents exchanged a quick, silent look that clearly communicated they didn’t fully believe her cheerful front. Still, seeing how happy she was to be home, neither of them pushed for the darker details immediately. Instead, her mother suddenly brightened, clapping her hands together softly.

"I just finished making a fresh batch of mashed potatoes and roasted chicken," her mother said proudly. "Come, sit down in the dining room and eat properly. The baby needs nourishment, and so do you."

Lane smiled helplessly, letting herself be guided toward the table. Some things simply never changed.

A few minutes later, the three of them sat together in the bright, sunlit dining room while Lane slowly, methodically ate.

The homemade, comforting food instantly settled her stomach in ways she hadn’t realized she desperately needed. Her mother watched her like a hawk, nodding in deep satisfaction as Lane managed to eat significantly more than her usual tiny portions.

"There," her mother said softly. "That is much better."

Lane shook her head with a faint smile. "You sound exactly like Aunt Catherine lately, Mom."

Her father let out a quiet laugh from the head of the table. "That woman has completely adopted you as her own, hasn’t she?"

Lane’s gaze softened. "She’s been remarkably kind to me since she arrived."

Her mother nodded approvingly, taking a sip of her tea.

"That’s wonderful to hear. A good mother-in-law is a blessing." Then, after a brief, telling pause, her father asked carefully, his tone dropping into a grounded, serious register,

"How are things going otherwise, Lane?"

Lane paused slightly, her fork hovering just above her plate. She knew exactly what the question implied. They were asking about the reality of her marriage. About Ethan. About the quiet, echoing mansion she now belonged to.

Lane forced her features to remain perfectly serene, pasting on a soft, convincing smile. "Everything is completely fine, Dad. Truly. We’re just adjusting."

Her mother studied her face intently, searching for any fracture in the facade. "Are you absolutely sure, sweetheart?"

Lane nodded quickly, maintaining eye contact. "Yes. I’m sure."

The answer sounded convincing enough on the surface to satisfy them for now. Her father leaned back slightly against his chair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Next time you come over, you must invite Ethan along for dinner."

Lane blinked softly, her heart dropping into her stomach. "What?"

"We haven’t properly spent quality time with our son-in-law since the wedding," her father explained calmly. "I want to sit down with him properly."

Her mother immediately chimed in, agreeing wholeheartedly. "Yes, I would love that too. It’s important for us to be a family."

Lane lowered her gaze briefly back toward her plate, her fingers tightening around the silver utensils as a familiar wave of intense anxiety washed over her. The mere idea of asking him made her terrifyingly nervous.

Ethan barely even came home to his own mansion for dinner consistently; the thought of asking him to drive across the city to play the role of a doting, attentive husband in front of her parents felt like an impossible task.

Still, refusing would only raise massive red flags for her family.

So, swallowing her fear, she nodded softly. "I’ll... I’ll ask him about his schedule."

Even though deep down in her soul, Lane was already desperately worrying that he would throw the invitation back in her face with a cold, unyielding refusal.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!