Chapter 53 PRIVATE ISLAND
Eli’s POV
The island doesn’t feel real at first.
It feels like something someone painted after falling asleep halfway through a dream; too blue, too bright, too calm to exist in the same world as gunshots and threats and men dying on concrete. The air is warm and clean, smelling faintly of salt and flowers I don’t know the names of. Even the breeze feels deliberate, like it was arranged just for me.
I stand barefoot in the sand, toes sinking in, and laugh before I realize I’m doing it.
I don’t remember the last time I laughed without checking over my shoulder.
Anton is already circling me with his phone, crouching low and then standing on his toes, moving like a director chasing the perfect frame.
“Don’t move,” he says lightly. “No—actually, move. Just… be you.”
I blink at him. “I don’t know what that means.”
He grins. “Exactly.”
The camera clicks. Again. And again. He tells me to look toward the water, then over my shoulder, then down at my hands like I’m shy. I am shy, but the way he says it makes it sound like a feature, not a flaw.
Somewhere behind me, Julian clears his throat.
I turn, expecting to see him annoyed, arms crossed, watching Anton hover too close; but instead he’s sitting on a lounge chair beneath a wide umbrella, sleeves rolled up, jacket abandoned somewhere I didn’t see him leave it. He’s watching me with that focused look he usually reserves for contracts and threats, except now it’s… softer. Slower.
He pats the chair beside him.
“Come here.”
I go without thinking.
The fabric is warm from the sun. Julian’s hands are already on me, thumbs pressing gently into my shoulders, like he’s checking for tension the way someone checks for bruises. His touch is careful, almost reverent, and I have to fight the urge to melt straight into him.
“You’re tense,” he murmurs.
“I’m always tense,” I say.
“Well, don't be today.”
He begins to massage my shoulders properly, firm and precise, like he learned this somewhere expensive and exclusive. I sigh before I can stop myself, head tipping back just slightly.
Anton clicks another photo.
“Oh, that’s unfair,” Anton says. “You can’t distract the subject mid-shoot.”
Julian doesn’t even look at him. His thumbs press deeper.
“He needs it.”
“I need it,” I mumble.
Anton laughs, warm and pleased, and lowers the phone. “Alright. Break time.”
He drops onto the sand in front of us, close enough that his knee brushes mine. I notice the way Julian’s hands still, just for a second, before continuing.
I don’t think anything of it.
Someone brings food: fresh fruit arranged like art, grilled fish that smells unreal, something citrusy and cold in a glass that Anton insists I try first. He feeds me a piece of mango with his fingers, not in a teasing way, just… casually, like that’s the most normal thing in the world.
Julian hands me a napkin immediately after.
I smile at both of them, cheeks hurting a little.
This is nice.
This is really nice.
We eat slowly. I sit cross-legged between them on the lounge chair, occasionally leaning one way or the other without thinking. Anton tells me stories about places he’s been; fast, vivid stories, full of color and motion. Julian corrects details under his breath, which Anton ignores with theatrical dedication.
I laugh so hard at one point I choke on my drink.
Julian steadies the glass. Anton pats my back.
I don’t even notice they move at the same time.
Later, Anton convinces me to walk along the shore with him so he can “get candid shots.” Julian watches us go, eyes narrowed against the sun, one hand lifted in a lazy wave when I look back.
The sand is warm between my toes. The water is clear enough that I can see small fish darting away when I step too close. Anton tells me to hold my shirt in the wind, then to let it go, then to turn suddenly like I heard my name.
“Perfect,” he says, eyes bright.
I feel… seen. Not inspected. Not owned. Definitely not paraded for curious cameras. Just—seen.
When we come back, Julian has shed the last of his restraint and looks almost relaxed, leaning back with his eyes closed. I sit between his legs without asking, back resting against his chest.
His arms come around me naturally.
The world narrows to the sound of waves, Anton’s camera clicking softly, Julian’s breathing steady behind me. My eyelids droop. I let myself exist in the moment without analyzing it, without fear.
I don’t notice the looks they exchange over my head.
I don’t notice the way Anton’s smile sharpens when Julian’s hand drifts to my waist.
I don’t notice how Julian’s fingers tighten slightly when Anton calls my name.
I just feel warm, safe, and wanted.
Later, as the sun begins to dip, Anton shows me the photos on his phone. I’m laughing in most of them. In some, I look soft and unaware and… happy. It startles me a little.
“That’s you,” Anton says quietly. “That’s who you are when no one’s hurting you.”
Julian’s hand settles on my thigh, grounding.
“No one will,” he says.
I believe him. I believe both of them.
That night, as we sit together watching the sky turn pink and gold, Julian resumes his gentle massage, Anton leans in close to point out constellations I don’t know, and I think, foolishly and sweetly, that maybe the world isn’t closing in after all.
Maybe, just this once, it’s opening. And this is freedom, soft life, and everything in-between.
I don't really have words for how I feel but I hope things remain like this until Julian decides to let me go back to my life. I hope he doesn't go back to hurting him because of my father. And I hope my father doesn't come hurting anyone because of me.
“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Anton asks, pulling me out of my head.
“Nothing, just enjoying the atmosphere. Thanks for bringing me here.”
Chapter 54: Play To Win
Night folded itself gently over the island.
The heat of the day faded into something softer, the kind of warm darkness that smelled like salt and flowers and distant waves breaking against stone. Lights along the terrace flickered on one by one, reflecting across the pool in long, trembling streaks of gold.
Eli sat curled on a lounge chair, legs tucked beneath him, skin still warm from the sun. He felt loose in a way he hadn’t in weeks… maybe months. The island did that to him. The food, the quiet, the way both Julian and Anton hovered without hovering, close enough to touch but not crowding him.
Anton broke the calm first, standing and stretching his arms above his head.
“Night swim?” he suggested lightly. “The pool's still warm.”
Julian didn’t even look up from where he sat beside Eli. “It’s cold.”
Eli turned toward him, eyes bright. “It’s not,” he said. “And even if it is, it sounds fun.”
Julian studied Eli’s face for a long second, then sighed like a man losing a battle he hadn’t intended to fight.
“Fine,” he said. “But you’ll catch a chill.”
Anton grinned like he’d already won something.
They split to change. Eli was ushered into a guest room with a soft shove and a fond warning to hurry. He pulled on the swim shorts laid out for him; it's simple, dark, fitting him better than he expected… and he glanced at his reflection. He still looked like himself. Just… brighter. Looser.
In the other room, the door shut behind Julian and Anton.
The air shifted instantly.
Julian didn’t waste time. He grabbed Anton by the collar and slammed him back against the wall, the sound sharp and sudden. His fist followed, cracking across Anton’s mouth.
Anton's bottom lip split at the punch’s impact.
He laughed, low and breathless, and wiped blood from his lip with his thumb.
“There’s the tough guy,” he said, smirking. “Miss me?”
“Shut the hell up,” Julian snapped.
Anton straightened his shirt calmly, eyes gleaming. “I’m playing fair,” he said. “Why are you hitting me?”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
Anton stepped forward, crowding Julian now, forcing him back half a step before turning away to grab his swim shorts. “You’re the one asking questions you don’t want answers to,” he said easily.
They changed in silence after that; tight, coiled, and clearly unfinished.
When they stepped outside, Eli was already by the pool.
Both men stopped.
The night lights caught on Eli’s pale skin, the water reflecting against him in soft ripples. He looked smaller somehow, barefoot at the edge of the pool, completely unaware of the storm walking toward him.
Eli noticed Anton’s lip first.
His brow furrowed as he reached up, fingertips brushing the torn skin. “What happened?” he asked softly.
Anton smiled down at him. “Bit it by mistake.”
“That looks like it hurts.”
Anton bent closer, lowering himself to Eli’s height. “It does,” he murmured. “Maybe you could kiss it better?”
Eli hesitated only a heartbeat before leaning in, pressing a careful kiss to Anton’s mouth. It was brief and gentle, nothing dramatic.
Julian turned away before the heat behind his eyes became visible.
He lifted Eli suddenly, arm locked around his waist, and carried him straight into the pool. Eli gasped, laughter spilling out as water splashed high around them.
Anton followed last, tossing a rubber ball into the water. “Game?” he asked.
“Yes!!” Eli excitedly agreed.
They played. They laughed. Eli swam circles around them, fast and graceful, completely in his element. Anton teased. Julian pretended not to enjoy himself, even as he stayed close, always too close.
At one point, Julian pulled Eli under without warning… and kissed him.
The kiss was slow, deliberate, and claiming in a way Eli felt the possessiveness behind it. When they surfaced, Eli was breathless, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.
Julian didn’t let him go.
“If you had to choose,” he said quietly, “between me and Anton—who would it be?”
Eli blinked, confused. “What?”
Anton immediately shook his head. “Don’t do this.”
Julian ignored him. “If one of us had to leave,” he pressed, “who would you want to stay?”
Eli laughed softly, uneasy. “Hopefully… no one has to leave.”
Julian’s jaw tightened. “Who do you like more?” he asked, more directly. “Me—or Anton?”
Eli swallowed. “Do I have to like one more?”
“No,” Anton said firmly. “You don’t.”
Julian pulled Eli back into a kiss; harder this time, deeper, demanding. When he pulled away, his voice was rough.
“How do you feel when I kiss you?”
Eli’s words came slowly, honestly. “It feels… good. Overwhelming. I get shy. And warm. Like everything else fades out.”
Julian searched his face. “And when Anton kissed you?”
“He only kissed me once,” Eli began, flustered. “That day—I don’t—”
Anton silenced him with a sudden kiss, one hand firm at the back of Eli’s neck. It was possessive, confident, nothing unc
ertain about it. He made himself clear enough for Eli to get the memo…
When Anton pulled back, his gaze was dark and intent.
“How did it feel?” he asked.
Julian steps closer, his presence demanding an answer…