Chapter 52 THEIR PRINCE
Eli’s POV
Things have changed.
That’s the simplest way I can put it, even though nothing about my life has been simple for a long time.
Ever since whatever-that-was in Julian’s office— the kissing, the heat, the fucking intense throat fuck, the way Anton looked at me like he’d just won something— everything has tilted. Not broken. Not exploded. Just… shifted. Like the world moved two inches to the left and now I keep bumping into things I never meant to touch.
Julian is calmer now. Scarily so.
Not cold. Not distant. Calm in the way storms look peaceful right before they decide where to strike.
He talks to me softly. Calls me ridiculous things: “princess,” “treasure,” “mine.” It's like he’s not the same man who once weaponized my humiliation in public. He pampers me in ways that feel excessive, like he’s trying to compensate for something without ever admitting it exists.
Anton… well.
Anton is everywhere. He's basically living with us now.
Did he get a different room? No.
Did anyone even pretend that was an option? Also no.
Now the three of us sleep in the same bed, and somehow I’m always in the middle; sandwiched, trapped, protected, smothered. Sometimes I wake up with Julian’s arm heavy across my waist and Anton’s hand warm at my back, like I’m some fragile object they forgot to put down.
They barely let me walk anymore.
They carry me. Feed me. Dress me. Buy me things I don’t need and things I don’t understand the price of. Julian watches me breathe like it’s a medical procedure. Anton checks if I’ve eaten like it’s his personal responsibility to keep me alive.
It should terrify me.
Sometimes it does.
But most of the time, it just makes my chest feel too full.
Right now, I’m standing in the kitchen, barefoot, trying to get a glass of water like a normal person.
That’s it. That’s the crime.
The house is quiet, sunlight spilling across the floor in lazy stripes. I grab a glass from the cabinet, step toward the dispenser… and my fingers slip.
The glass shatters.
The sound is sharp and violent, echoing through the kitchen like a gunshot.
I freeze.
Before I can even process what happened, footsteps thunder down the hall.
“Eli.”
Julian is there in seconds.
Shirtless. Sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Hair still messy like he just rolled out of bed; or out of a nightmare. His eyes snap to the floor, then to me.
“Don’t move.”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically, even though my heart is racing.
He ignores me.
He crosses the distance in two strides, lifts me like I weigh nothing, and sits me on the kitchen island before I can protest. His hands are firm but careful as he checks my feet, turning them gently, scanning for cuts.
“I said I’m fine,” I repeat, weaker this time.
Julian’s jaw tightens. “You’re barefoot.”
“I’m inside, am I supposed to wear shoes?” I argue. “I just wanted water.”
“That’s why there are slippers, you shouldn't walk around barefoot.” he says, like this is the most obvious thing in the world.
“I didn’t think—”
“You don’t have to think,” he cuts in, not unkindly. “That’s my job.”
He stands, grabs another glass, fills it, and brings it to my lips himself. I take it because fighting feels pointless, and because my cheeks are already warm from the way he’s hovering.
When I finish, he sets the glass aside and lifts me again.
“Julian,” I protest, embarrassed. “I can walk.”
“You dropped glass,” he replies. “Humor me.”
He carries me out of the kitchen like this is normal.
Like I’m not twenty seconds away from combusting.
When we reach the living room, I see Anton coming down the stairs.
Also shirtless.
Also in sweatpants.
There’s a tattoo at his waist, dark ink disappearing dangerously low, and my brain short-circuits so hard I forget how words work.
“Why are you both half naked?” I blurt.
Anton grins. “Good morning to you too.”
“We’re heading to the gym,” Julian says, setting me down gently. “Morning workout.”
I stare between them. “Both of you?”
Anton stretches his arms overhead deliberately, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “You sound surprised.”
Julian gestures toward the gym. “Come.”
“I’m not working out,” I say quickly.
“You’re not,” Anton agrees cheerfully. “You’re supervising.”
That should worry me.
It doesn’t.
The gym smells like metal and clean rubber and something faintly dangerous. Julian gets on the treadmill for warm-up. Anton drops to the floor for push-ups and pats his back.
“Sit,” he says.
“What?”
“Sit on my back and count for me.”
“I—Anton—”
“Eli,” Julian calls from the treadmill, amused. “Do as you’re told.”
My face is already on fire as I carefully sit on Anton’s back. He’s solid. Warm. Unbothered.
“One… Two… Three… Four… Ten,” I start, because apparently this is my life now.
Anton doesn’t even sound strained. “Good.”
By eighty-five, my voice is shaking; not from effort, but from the way Julian keeps glancing over at us, eyes dark and intent.
“That’s enough,” Julian says suddenly.
He pulls me down onto a mat before I can react. Then he drops above me and starts push-ups.
Every time he lowers himself, he kisses me; quick, firm, and claiming.
One.
Kiss.
Two.
Kiss.
Anton laughs softly. “You’re going to spoil him.”
Julian doesn’t stop. “That’s the point.”
I’m not doing any work, and somehow I’m exhausted.
By the time they’re done, I’m dizzy, flustered, and laughing despite myself, my chest warm with something dangerously close to happiness.
They look at me like I belong here.
Between them.
And the worst part?
I’m starting to believe it.
I'm starting to want them to never stop giving the attention. I'm starting to love being pampered by my husband and this other man that lives with us.
Chapter 52: May the Best Man Win
Anton lifted Eli without waking him up.
It wasn’t careful in the gentle sense; Anton barely did anything gently, but it was practiced, and instinctive. Eli fit against him like he’d been carried this way a hundred times already, face tucked into Anton’s chest, fingers curled faintly into the fabric of his shirt. His breathing stayed slow, unaware of the transition from couch to night air, from house to armored vehicle.
Julian watched the entire thing without comment.
The driver opened the door. Anton slid inside first, settling Eli against his shoulder, and Julian followed, already loosening his cuffs as the car pulled away. No one spoke. The city blurred past the windows, lights streaking like something already left behind.
By the time they reached the airstrip, Eli still hadn’t stirred.
A jet waited under floodlights: sleek, black, unmistakably Julian’s. Crew members bowed as the doors opened. Anton didn’t acknowledge them beyond a nod, carrying Eli straight inside as if the jet existed solely to serve this moment.
He laid Eli down on the bed in the private cabin, adjusting him without thinking; shoes off, jacket tugged higher, a pillow tucked beneath his head. Eli shifted once, exhaled, and went still again.
Anton stepped back.
Julian was already seated at the table across the aisle, a glass in his hand, papers spread in a neat, controlled mess. He didn’t look toward the bed. He didn’t want to.
The jet began to taxi.
Anton poured himself a drink and sat opposite Julian, legs stretched out, posture infuriatingly relaxed.
For a while, the only sound was the hum of the engines and the clink of glass.
Then Julian spoke.
“I know you’re a wild card,” he said coolly, eyes still on the documents. “And you’ve somehow managed to get me on my way to a vacation. But I don’t want to see lines crossed. I hope I won't find you fucking Eli.”
Anton smiled into his glass. “Relax. You may not.”
Julian’s gaze lifted slowly. “May?”
“Well, if Eli wants that, I'd gladly have him dis-virgined.” Anton said with a smirk, swirling his drink knowing he just hit a nerve.
Julian gulped down his drink and asked: “Do you still love your life or you want me to take it away from you?”
Anton met his eyes, unbothered. “I said what I said.”
Julian leaned back, taking a long drink. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“Of course I am,” Anton replied easily. “You always make things interesting when you’re territorial.”
Julian’s jaw tightened. “Careful.”
Anton leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “We had an agreement. And it’s getting on my nerves how quickly you’re pretending you don’t remember it.”
Julian’s smile was sharp. “I remember everything.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Anton said. “I can see how much you remember that Eli belongs to me. You literally asked my permission to take him to bait Henry and you said you aren't gay and not into boys especially not Eli's kind but dear brother, you sent me a wedding invitation 3 fucking days later. Inviting me to come watch you kiss my love on a alter.”
Julian laughed under his breath. “That again.”
“You are the one trying to take him away from me,” Anton continued, voice calm but edged, “Not the other way around. Don’t act surprised that I didn’t disappear.”
Julian’s fingers tightened around the glass. “You were hovering. Stalking him doesn't make him yours.”
“And you married him,” Anton shot back. “We’re both playing games. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
Julian leaned forward now. “I’m his husband.”
Anton’s smile didn’t fade. “On paper.”
Silence stretched between them, thick with years of shared violence and grudges that had never cooled.
“Yeah, but at least I married him. You were just stalking him but couldn't grow some balls to approach him.”
Anton tilted his head. “And you were afraid to admit you wanted him.”
Julian’s eyes flashed. “You’re pushing.”
“That’s what I do. And did you just say I couldn't grow some balls to approach him? Well watch me grow some balls and fuck him silly.”
“Ahhh…” Julian leaned back in his seat. “You're about to get murdered.”
Anton chuckled, “not before I get my baby back. And ohh, stick to the fucking agreement. Eli would choose. May the best man win so quit playing the husband card.”
The jet lifted into the air.
Neither of them looked toward the window.
Movement in the cabin caught Anton’s attention first.
Eli stood at the edge of the aisle, barefoot, blinking like he’d woken somewhere unfamiliar; which, technically, he had. His hair was a mess, shirt wrinkled from sleep, eyes scanning the space with quiet panic until they landed on Julian and Anton.
His shoulders visibly relaxed.
He walked toward them, slow, cautious. “Where are we?”
Anton leaned back, grin returning. “In the air.”
Eli frowned. “In the… air?”
Julian set his glass down. “We’re heading to my island.”
Eli’s eyes widened. “An island?”
“For a little vacation, you need some time away. For relaxing,” Anton said. “Somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one can reach you.”
Eli hesitated. “All I’ve been doing lately is relaxing.”
“That’s different,” Anton replied. “This is… intentional.”
Eli looked between them, then nodded, accepting it in that way he’d begun to accept impossible things. Anton patted his thigh.
“Come here.”
Eli didn’t question it. He stepped forward and sat on Anton’s lap, straddling him without ceremony, face immediately burying itself against Anton’s chest like that was where it belonged.
Anton’s hand came up to steady him automatically.
Across the table, Julian drained his glass.
Anton looked over Eli’s head and met Julian’s eyes, a slow, unmistakable challenge in his expression.
Julian didn’t rise to it. He simply poured another drink.
____
They landed just before sunset.
The island unfolded in front of them: white sand, deep green foliage, the ocean stretched wide and endless. Eli stepped out first, barefoot hitting warm ground, breath catching as he took it in.
He laughed; a happy sound so light it startled both men.
He ran.
Not far, just to the edge of the beach, spinning once like he needed to confirm it was real. Anton and Julian watched him from behind, the tension between them easing into something quieter, more dangerous.
Anton glanced sideways. “He’s happy.”
Julian didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed on Eli; on the way he bent to touch the water, on the way the stress seemed to fall off him in real time.
“I know,” Julian said finally.
Anton smirked. “May the best man win.”
Julian exhaled slowly, already knowing this war wasn’t about winning at all.
It was about who Eli would choose to stay with once he realized he had a choice.
And for the first time in a long while, Julian wasn’t sure of an outcome.
He wants Eli but what if Eli choose Anton?