Chapter 37 ANTON, THE BEAUTIFUL THREAT
Eli slipped into a loop of reoccurrence.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the flash and the fire consuming the car, the shockwave ripping through the air. And Julian’s arms around him, shielding, holding, dragging him away from death.
By morning, he was exhausted and unsteady.
By afternoon, he was trying not to fall apart.
Julian had left for a meeting promising he’d return soon. The penthouse had been placed on full lockdown. Eli couldn’t step three feet without a camera tracking him.
He was alone…
Or so he thought.
He smelled the food cooking; something warm, buttery, unfamiliar but comforting. His stomach churned at first, then growled.
Eli stepped into the kitchen and froze at the sight before him.
Anton stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up, a knife gliding suavely through fresh herbs. His hair was tied loosely at the back, a detail that made him look criminally beautiful; not sharp like yesterday, but soft, and effortlessly disarming.
He didn’t look surprised to see Eli.
If anything, he looked pleased.
“There you are,” Anton said, turning the heat off. “I was starting to think you fainted upstairs.”
Eli blinked. “What are you doing?”
Anton scooped steaming risotto into a bowl; rich, fragrant, and soothing. “Julian told me you didn’t eat breakfast. He said you’re still shaken. And since he’s terrible at comfort,” he smiled slyly, “I figured someone should step in.”
Eli stiffened. “Julian asked you to cook for me?”
Anton shrugged, leaning one hip against the counter. “Not explicitly. He asked me to ‘be useful.’ I took initiative.”
Of course he did.
Anton walked toward him, holding the bowl, gaze gliding over Eli with a familiarity that felt wrong, and intimate where it shouldn’t be.
“You still look pale,” he observed. Staring with such a gentle gaze. “Sit.”
Eli hesitated.
Anton raised a brow. “Do you really want Julian finding out you ignored the food I made for you?” His tone teased, but the words struck deeper.
Reluctantly, Eli sat at the island. Anton placed the bowl in front of him, then pulled a chair so close their knees brushed.
Eli swallowed. “I can feed myself.”
Anton scooped a spoonful of risotto and blew on it lightly. “I know.”
He brought it closer to Eli’s lips.
Eli leaned back. “Anton—”
“You’ve been through enough,” Anton murmured, voice shifted to something warm, coaxing. “Let me help you.”
The change was jarring.
Yesterday, he was sharp, mocking, and particularly antagonistic.
Today…
He was tender. Almost sweet.
And that sweetness made Eli more nervous than the cruelty.
Eli sat frozen. Anton didn’t push, he simply held the spoon steady, eyes fixed on Eli as though he had all the time in the world.
Eli’s voice came out small. “Why are you doing this?”
Anton tilted his head, sincerity softening his features. “You think I don’t see it? You’re trembling, you look really sick.”
Eli’s hand twitched on the marble. He hated that Anton noticed.
Anton lowered his voice. “You almost died last night. Anyone would be shaking.”
The kindness felt deliberate; like a trap made of gorgeous silk instead of metal.
Against his own judgment, Eli parted his lips slightly.
Anton fed him.
It was embarrassing how good the food felt so warm and grounding, pulling him back into his body. Eli tensed at first, then relaxed without meaning to. Anton kept his movements gentle, almost affectionate.
“See?” Anton whispered. “Better.”
A faint flush crept up Eli’s neck. He hated how flustered he felt under that gaze.. calm, confident, quietly consuming.
Anton leaned in a little closer. “Julian keeps you wrapped in his iron fist and rage. Someone has to offer softness.”
The spoon paused midway to Eli’s lips.
Eli stared at him. “Why do you talk like you know so much about me and Julian?”
Anton smiled, a dangerously beautiful sight. “Because I do.”
Eli’s stomach dropped. It's not like he doesn't know this stalker guy must know a lot about him and his twisted relationship with Julian, he just wonders how much exactly he knows.
Anton placed the bowl down, his attention shifting fully to Eli. “Julian sees you as something to use; a tool.” He lifted a finger, brushing the corner of Eli’s mouth where a grain of rice clung. “I see you.”
Eli’s breath hitched as Anton’s thumb grazed his skin; barely a touch, just a whisper.
“And I like what I see,” Anton murmured.
Eli looked away, trying to focus on anything else but the man in front of him.
Anton’s gaze dragged over him, appreciating, hungry but controlled. “You’re not just pretty, Eli. You’re interesting. Intelligent. The kind of person people underestimate until it’s too late.”
His voice was velvet over a blade.
Eli’s pulse thudded painfully in his chest. “Stop trying to confuse me.”
“But you are just a confused boy since your marital status changed, it's not me.” Anton leaned back in his chair, casual, but his eyes never left Eli. “You don’t know if you should be grateful to Julian… or terrified of him.”
“That’s not true,” Eli whispered.
“Isn’t it?” Anton tapped the table once, softly. “He’s dragging you into a war that started long before you were born. And now you’re experiencing near death situations.”
“That’s not—”
Anton cut him off again, but softly. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here because Julian asked me to help today. And because,” he offered a half-smile, “I wanted to.”
Eli’s heartbeat stuttered.
Anton stood slowly, stepping behind Eli. Eli tensed the moment he felt Anton’s warm hands rest on his shoulders.
He should pull away.
He should reject the touch.
But Anton’s voice slid over him again; gentle, and wrongly intimate.
“Breathe, Eli.”
Eli inhaled shakily.
“Good,” Anton murmured. “You’ve been alone too long today.”
Before Eli could respond, the elevator chimed.
Anton’s hands slid off him instantly, but the closeness lingered like static.
Julian stepped into the kitchen, expression thunderous the second he saw them. He stopped mid-stride, eyes flicking from the half-eaten bowl to how close Anton stood behind Eli.
The tension in the room snapped like wire.
“What,” Julian said, voice calm in the most dangerous way, “is going on?”
Anton smirked, unbothered. “Relax. I fed him.”
Julian’s jaw flexed. “You what?”
“He wasn’t eating,” Anton replied lazily. “You said to take care of him.”
“I didn’t tell you to touch him.”
Anton raised both hands mockingly. “I didn’t touch him. Much.”
Eli’s face flushed. Julian’s expression darkened, territorial in a way that sent a tremor through the air.
“Leave,” Julian ordered.
Anton walked toward him, stopping close enough that the air became electric: predator meeting predator.
“You asked me to be present tonight,” Anton reminded him softly. “You said I’d like the show you’d put on.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed. “And you will. But you stay away from him.”
Anton’s gaze flicked past Julian, landing on Eli again, lingering just enough to make Julian stiffen.
Then Anton smiled.
“See you tonight,” he murmured.
And he left, the soft click of the door somehow louder than the explosion the night before.
Eli exhaled shakily.
Julian turned to him, kneeling slightly to meet his eyes. “Did he touch you?”
“Julian, it wasn’t—”
“Eli.” His voice softened, but the intensity didn’t. “Answer me.”
Eli hesitated. “…He fed me. And talked.”
Julian closed his eyes for one second, just one, before straightening.
“That’s it,” he muttered. “We’re accelerating.”
Eli blinked. “Accelerating what?”
Julian held out a hand for him to stand. When Eli took it, Julian pulled him close, protective and furious.
“Tonight’s event,” Julian said. “The next step of baiting Henry.”
Eli’s blood
ran cold.
“What step?”
Julian’s lips brushed Eli’s temple, a whisper of possession.
“You’ll see,” he said darkly. “And Anton will see too. That bastard won't stop hovering around you.”