Chapter 181 You should go

Chapter 181 You should go
BASTIAN'S POV
I’m not hungry.
My thoughts are doing that dangerous, erratic thing where they try to bounce all over the place, threatening to fracture my concentration into a dozen useless pieces. I force them back into line. I lock my jaw, tighten my posture, and manually align every stray thought until they sit neatly in a row, exactly where I command them to be. Control isn't something I loosely exercise, it's an absolute requirement for my existence.
Over the past thirteen years, I have never allowed myself to go there. The only way that dark, suffocating corner of my past has ever managed to reach me was through my nightmares, the one realm where my conscious mind has no authority. Otherwise, I would never willingly crack open that particular door, with all the grotesque shadows and monsters lurking inside.
Yet tonight, I cracked it. Just a fraction. Just enough to let the air turn cold. There's a primal part of me right now threatening to lock up entirely, to build the fortress walls twice as high. But I’ve spent too many years training my mind. I stuff everything back into its box, slam the lid shut, and push straight through it.
The restaurant's quiet, high above the city noise. We have a private table on the balcony, overlooking the staggered lights of the skyline. I’ve already ordered for both of us.
My right arm is acting up. It started as a dull, thrumming pressure at the base of my forearm, but now it’s a sharp, shooting pain radiating straight up to the joint. I reach into my jacket pocket, extract the pill bottle, and slide another onto my tongue. I wash it down with a glass of water. The relief isn't immediate, but knowing the chemical is in my system helps steady my hands.
Kaden looked around with quiet curiosity when we first arrived, but then he'd reached over and took my hand. He’s been unusually quiet since the conversation in the car.
There’s a softness....a deep, lingering sadness in his eyes now. He’s trying to mask it, forcing little reassuring smiles whenever my gaze catches his, but I know him too well by now. I can practically formulate the exact sentence forming in his head just by watching the subtle shift in his brow. He’s carrying the weight of what I told him. He’s hurting for me, which is entirely unnecessary.
To distract myself from the heavy pull in his expression, my mind drifts to yesterday. Josie uploaded another one of her content videos on her socials, a thrift-flip project Kaden was a part of. I monitored the metrics from my desk, pathetically keeping track of the engagement numbers in real time.
The comments were flooded with people fixated entirely on him, they almost always were, but this time people were talking about how their attention spans suddenly weren't the issue. That they'd watched through, and re-watched an ad for the first time simply because he was on the screen.
People are flocking to him now. I’m proud of him. He'd already built a solid, genuine following on his own merit, but I know with time, his reach will grow exponentially. A part of me, the impatient part, wants to step in and simply catapult him straight to the top. I already have three separate strategic plans in mind. Plans that would secure him national brand deals by the end of the quarter. But Kaden doesn't want that. He wants to earn every inch of his path.
And I am learning, slowly and painfully, to respect that boundary.
"Are you going to move forward with that brand that reached out last week?" I ask, breaking the quiet between us.
He blinks, directing his focus back on me. "Probably," he says softly. "Actually, someone else reached out today too."
"Who?"
"An independent designer out of Chicago," he says, a faint spark of interest returning to his eyes. "Custom, small-batch production. It sounded pretty cool. Honestly, if my schedule allows it and the contract terms look fair, I think I’m going to take every viable offer I get right now."
I give a firm, approving nod, even though the distance raises alarms in my head. I'm not too thrilled about it. "Good. Just don't overwork yourself."
"I won't," he promises. He hesitates, then he reaches over for my hand again. His thumb lightly strokes the side of my knuckle before he speaks again. "Bastian... what exactly do you plan on doing about my family? I’m feeling really guilty about not going home today. It's not a pleasant feeling."
I think about the orders I gave yesterday.
"I put the fear of God into the adults," I say flatly. "I compelled them to change their ways and smoothed out a few logistical difficulties so they won't have any excuses going forward."
Kaden’s brows draw together into a slight frown. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means it’s handled. Or in the process of being handled," I state. Then I smoothly pivot the direction of the conversation. "Have you looked up anywhere you want to see when we’re in Japan? You should do some research. Find whatever thrills you...make the itinerary something you actually look forward to."
He gives me a long, pointed look that makes it abundantly clear he recognizes the deflection. He knows me too well, too. But instead of pushing the boundary, he lets out a quiet breath and shakes his head. "I haven't yet, but I will."
The mention of travel brings another matter to the surface. Earlier today, my grandmother called. I had already confronted her about her attempt to contact Kaden directly behind my back. Today, her tone had been shockingly different. She called to apologize. She admitted she had overstepped her place.
She told me she'd spent the last forty-eight hours putting everything into perspective, and she made the executive decision not to invite the people she claims are my 'family' to the vineyard’s upcoming anniversary event.
She confessed that she should have been far more considerate of my comfort, assuring me that my well-being has always been her primary concern, and that would never change.
I'm still debating whether to believe her. She sounded genuinely sincere, and while my grandmother is formidable, calculating, and stubborn, she is not a liar...
"What're you thinking about?" Kaden asks softly, watching me intently.
I glance up from my plate. I’ve barely touched my steak, and I doubt my stomach will tolerate more than a few bites tonight.
"I might be attending the vineyard’s anniversary gala," I say casually.
Kaden blinks, genuine surprise washing over his face. "Really?"
"My grandmother assured me there'll be no... undesirable guests present," I clarify. "So, I'm considering it."
A genuine, warm smile finally breaks across his lips, lighting up his eyes. "You should go."
"Will you come with me? It'll literally be the day after we return from Japan." I ask.
I expect him to pause, to weigh the social anxiety of attending a function at my family's estate. But he doesn't hesitate for a single second. He just shrugs, his eyes warm.
"Sure," he says easily. "I really like it up there anyway. It feels like a completely different world."
Just like that, the lingering reservations I’ve harbored about the event vanish entirely. It becomes something I actively want. There'll be high-profile guests there. And any opportunity to show off Kaden as mine in public is a chance I'll always take without hesitation.
"It's settled then," I say, the decision finalizing instantly in my mind.