The sunlight was no longer a soft, romantic glow. By 10:30 AM, it was a harsh, unrelenting glare that exposed every abandoned garment on the bedroom floor-Jax's heavy boots tossed near the door, Elias's silk tie draped over the edge of a mid-century modern chair, and the two discarded shirts that told the story of a very different kind of boardroom negotiation.
Jax was the first to wake. He lay on his back, the high-thread-count sheets feeling unnervingly soft against his skin. Beside him, Elias was a warm, quiet weight, his silver hair fanned out against the charcoal pillowcase. For the first time since Jax had arrived at the estate, Elias looked peaceful. The tension that usually lived in the corners of his mouth had vanished, smoothed over by the exhaustion of a night that had defied every rule in the contract.
Jax watched the slow rise and fall of Elias's bare shoulder. He felt a fierce, terrifying surge of possessiveness. He wanted to pull the man back into his arms, to stay in this bubble of heat and skin until the rest of the world stopped existing.
But Jax was a realist. And the digital clock on the bedside table was blinking a reminder that the world had never stopped.
10:47 AM.
"Elias," Jax whispered, his voice sounding like a rusted gate.
Elias stirred, his eyelashes fluttering before his grey eyes opened. For three seconds, there was a smile-a soft, hazy thing that made Jax's chest ache. Then, the haze cleared. The realization of the time, the place, and the person in his bed hit Elias like a bucket of ice water.
The billionaire sat up abruptly, pulling the duvet to his chest. The peaceful man from seconds ago was gone, replaced by the CEO.
"We missed the meeting," Elias said, his voice tight. "The architects. The Singapore group. My phone... where is my phone?"
Jax sat up more slowly, his muscular back a roadmap of the night's intensity. "It's on the floor. I turned it off at 3:00 AM because it wouldn't stop buzzing."
Elias looked at him, and for a moment, the ice cracked. His gaze swept over Jax's chest, his throat working as he remembered exactly what those hands had done to him. He looked away, his face flushing a deep crimson.
"I have seventeen missed calls from Miller," Elias muttered, finding his phone and scrolling frantically. "And three from Sterling. They're going to think... god, I don't even know what they'll think."
"They'll think you're human, Elias," Jax said, reaching out to touch Elias's arm.
Elias flinched. It wasn't the panic-stricken flinch of their first meeting, but it was a withdrawal nonetheless. He stood up, wrapping himself in a silk robe he'd pulled from the foot of the bed.
"No. They think I'm a machine. That's why they fear me. That's why the stock stays up." Elias began pacing the length of the room, his bare feet silent on the rug. "This was... it was a lapse in discipline. A significant one."
Jax stood, not bothering with a robe. He was comfortable in his own skin, even if the atmosphere in the room had turned sub-zero. "A lapse? We spent six hours burning the house down, Elias. Don't call it a lapse like it was a typo in a spreadsheet."
Elias stopped pacing and looked at Jax. He looked small in the oversized robe, his silver hair messy, but his expression was hardening. "What do you want me to call it, Jaxson? A relationship? You're my employee. You're working off a debt that I own. If the board finds out I'm sleeping with my security detail, they'll use it to prove I'm unstable. They'll take the company."
Jax stepped toward him, his presence filling the space. "Is that all this is to you? PR management?"
"It has to be," Elias whispered, his voice cracking for a split second. "I can't lose this company. It's the only thing I have that keeps the walls up."
"I'm the one keeping the walls up now," Jax reminded him, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
"Then do your job," Elias snapped, the CEO mask sliding fully into place. "Put on your suit. Go to the kitchen. Make the coffee. And when we walk out of this room, we are Mr. Vance and Thorne. Nothing more. Do you understand?"
Jax stared at him for a long, silent minute. The pain in his chest was sharper than any wound he'd taken in the field. He'd given Elias everything last night-his loyalty, his body, his silence. And Elias was asking him to put the leash back on.
"Understood, Mr. Vance," Jax said, his voice cold and professional.
He picked up his clothes and walked out of the room. He didn't look back. He had a debt to pay, and apparently, the price was higher than forty-two million dollars. It was going to cost him his soul.
As the door clicked shut, Elias slumped against the bedframe, burying his face in his hands. He had his company. He had his walls. But as he listened to Jax's heavy footfalls retreating down the hall, he had never felt more alone.
