Chapter 49 KISSED ANOTHER MAN
Julian had been in his office for thirty-six hours.
He knew the exact number because the lights outside the floor-to-ceiling windows had changed twice: from the amber glow of evening to the hollow blue of dawn, then back again; and because the bottle on his desk was empty, then replaced, then empty again.
Work stacked itself neatly when he let it consume him. Numbers behaved. Contracts obeyed logic. People could be fired for mistakes that had names and consequences.
Unlike desire.
Unlike jealousy.
Unlike the image burned into his skull of Anton’s hands on Eli’s waist and Eli’s lips against Anton's.
Julian signed a termination letter without reading it.
The second secretary that day left in tears. He didn’t feel anything about it.
Coffee had been replaced with whiskey sometime after midnight. His jaw ached from clenching. His phone buzzed with missed calls, messages he didn’t open. He didn’t go home. He didn’t want to see Eli’s face and wonder who he’d choose to flinch from now. He doesn't know what he'd say or do that'd have the boy flinching or panicking. It's messy how emotional Eli tends to be, and Julian hates that he let his guard down enough to care about Eli's emotion. Things would have been easier for him if he just stuck to his initial plans of slowly ruining Eli the same way Eli's father had ruined him.
The door opened, and Julian smelled her before he saw her.
Too much perfume. Sweet and sharp and invasive.
He didn’t look up. “If this is another scheduling issue, leave it on the desk.”
Maeve laughed softly, the sound carefully calibrated. “God, you are in a mood.”
That made him look.
Maeve stood just inside the office, immaculate as always; tailored dress, heels too expensive for practicality, hair pinned in a way that suggested effortlessness. Julian’s legal advisor. Brilliant. Dangerous in her own way. And very aware of how she looked.
She had no reason to be here.
“What do you want?” Julian asked flatly.
“I heard you fired two people today,” she said, strolling closer without invitation. “Thought I’d check whether the empire is collapsing or if you’re just—” she gestured vaguely, “—being yourself.”
“Leave,” Julian said.
Maeve smiled wider. “You know, when you get like this, it’s usually because you’re not dealing with something. Maybe you need a distraction.”
She reached the edge of his desk and leaned forward, deliberately close. Her perfume flooded the space.
Something in Julian snapped: not loudly, dramatically, or even violently… but with the quiet precision of a bone breaking under pressure.
“Step back,” he said.
“Oh, Julian,” Maeve murmured. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know you. I’ve always known—”
He stood so fast his chair skidded backward.
Julian shoved her.
Not hard enough to hurt her badly. Hard enough to make a point.
Maeve stumbled, shock flashing across her face.
His voice was calm. That was the worst part.
“Remain professional,” he said. “Or I will personally ensure you never work in this city again. I don’t care how talented you are.”
Her lips parted. Then her expression twisted into something sharp and humiliated.
“You’re unstable,” she hissed.
“Leave,” Julian repeated. “It'd not be a very good look on you to get blacklisted over something like this.”
She turned; heels clicking angrily as she stormed out, perfume lingering like a challenge.
The door hadn’t even fully closed when it opened again.
Anton walked in without knocking.
Julian didn’t look up this time. He poured another drink.
“Two days,” Anton said lightly. “I was starting to think you’d decided to live here.”
Julian drank. “Get out.”
Anton didn’t.
He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, arms crossed. “You fired your assistant, your scheduler, and nearly assaulted your legal advisor. That’s new.”
“She crossed a line.”
“You shoved her.”
“She deserved worse.”
Anton studied him for a moment, gaze sharp beneath the lazy posture. “This is about Eli?”
Julian’s grip tightened around the glass. “Say his name again and I will.”
“And there it is,” Anton said softly. “You’re unraveling.”
Julian slammed the glass down. Whiskey splashed across the desk. “You kissed him.”
Anton didn’t deny it.
“He kissed me back,” Anton said.
Julian lunged.
Anton moved just enough to avoid a full hit, but Julian grabbed his collar and shoved him against the wall, forearm pressing into Anton’s throat.
For a second, just a second, Julian considered tightening his grip, and just choke life out of Anton.
Anton smiled faintly, even with the pressure. “You need me,” he said hoarsely. “That’s the problem.”
Julian’s jaw trembled.
“You don’t get to touch what’s mine. I'm his husband, not you!! He's married to me.”
Anton’s eyes darkened. “You don’t get to pretend you don’t care. And he's mine first before you married him.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and volatile.
Finally, Julian released him and stepped back, breathing hard.
“You were supposed to help keep him safe,” Julian said. “Not confuse him. Not try to fuck him!”
Anton straightened his jacket. “I did keep him safe. When you scared him.”
That landed.
Julian turned away, hands braced on the desk. His reflection stared back from the dark glass of the window; eyes hollow, mouth set too tight.
“I’m losing him, to you?” he said quietly.
Anton’s voice softened. “You never had him the way you think you did.”
Julian let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You think this is funny?”
Anton scoffed. “No. I think it’s predictable.”
Julian’s jaw tightened. “I spent my whole life making sure no one ever got close enough to fuck me over again. And now you’re kissing my wife in my living room.”
Anton stepped closer, eyes cold. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have treated him like a weapon instead of a person. And it's a husband not a wife.”
Julian’s hand slammed against the desk. “Don’t tell me how to run my life.”
“Then stop letting it fall apart every time you lose control,” Anton shot back. “You’re spiraling like a fucking crackhead.”
Julian sneered. “I don’t spiral.”
“You do,” Anton said flatly. “You just call it work and bloodshed so you can get some sleep at night.”
Julian’s voice dropped, dangerous. “If you walk out that door—”
Anton cut him off. “—you’ll burn everything down, and try to beat me. Yeah. I know.” He exhaled through his nose. “That’s why I’m still here, asshole.”
Julian didn’t look at him. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Anton smirked. “You’d be dead or feral without me.”
Julian’s jaw worked, fury simmering. “Stay out of my marriage.”
Anton’s smile faded. “Then stop turning it into a war zone. You know chaos attracts me. And it's our marriage, for your fucking information. And if you raise your voice again, I'll leave you to wallow in your self destruction.”
There's a long silence…
Julian finally muttered, “Don’t leave.”
Anton rolled his shoulders. “You’re stuck with me. Relax.”
A sound came from the doorway. “Please don’t fight because of me.”
Julian turned slowly.
Eli stood just inside the office, hands clenched in the hem of his shirt, eyes too wide. He was too anxious to walk in with Anton earlier, that much was obvious. Anxiety clung to him like smoke.
Julian didn’t respond.
And the silence almost buried Eli further deep into anxiety.
“I—” Eli swallowed. “Julian, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kiss him.”
That did it… Julian moved towards Eli.
He took one step forward.
Eli took one step back.
Another step.
Another retreat.
Until Eli’s spine hit the cold glass wall behind him, breath catching sharply as Julian closed the space between them. Trapped him there without touching him. Yet.
“Sorry?” Julian asked softly.
Eli nodded. Too fast.
Julian laughed in a manner that scared Eli. “You’re sorry,” he repeated. “Did you enjoy it?”
Eli’s mouth opened. No sound came out.
Julian leaned in. “Did he fuck you?” he asked calmly. “Are you a slut now?”
Eli froze against the glass.
Anton shifted behind them, not interfering because he was getting entertained by the scene in front of him.
Julian reached out, fingers gripping Eli’s chin, forcing his face up, forcing eye contact. Eli’s lashes fluttered, breath stuttering as Julian searched his eyes like he was looking for something to break.
“Did he force you?” Julian asked.
Eli shook his head.
Julian’s grip tightened. “Words,” he said quietly. “Don’t nod. Answer me. Did he force you?”
“No,” Eli whispered.
Julian’s eyes darkened. “Was it a mistake?”
Eli hesitated.
Anton’s voice cut in smoothly. “Careful, sweetheart. This part matters.”
Eli swallowed hard. “No.”
Julian’s lips twitched. Not a smile. “Are you sorry?”
“Yes.”
“Do you regret it?”
Eli’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “No.”
There's a brief silence.
Anton smiled. Slow, and approving. “Good boy.”
The words landed like gasoline.
Julian stayed where he was, towering over Eli, fury simmering not because Eli kissed another man.
But because Eli didn’t regret it.
And because, for the first time, Julian didn’t know how to punish that without losing him