Chapter Four

The Revelations

Finally, Eli got his number. It took time and money to get his number. He was excited and couldn't wait to hear from him. 

Eli leaned back in his chair, frustration tightening his jaw as he stared at his phone’s screen. The call log was ridiculous. He had given him ten calls already. All to no avail.

It was really frustrating. He tapped the screen again, pacing around his office like a man with far too much on his mind for someone who owned half the city’s skyline.

Ring. Ring. Ring… but it all went down to voicemail. He sighed, pressing the phone to his forehead. “This is ridiculous. Why is he not picking up his calls? Does he know I am the one calling?” 

It had been days since he tracked down Adrian’s number. A few strings pulled here, giving information here and there, having a casual conversation with a gallery owner who happened to know a journalist who knew someone at The Reader’s Digest.

And finally, he’d get his full Adrian Cross, his number, and hope. And so far? Nothing but silence.

Megan peeked into his office just as he hung up again. “Still not going through? Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked cautiously, not knowing who it was.

Eli shot her a look. “Don’t start.” She held up her hands. “Sorry. I wasn't going to. But… for what it’s worth, you’ve been weird since that gala.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Megan…”

“Alright, alright. I’ll mind my business.” She raised her notepad like a shield. “I’ll leave you to sulk in peace,” she murmured, but he heard. 

Eli waited until she was gone before sinking back into his seat, staring at the contact on his screen while rubbing his head. 

“One last time,” he muttered, dialing again. “If he doesn’t pick up, I’m walking into that office tomorrow, consequences be damned.”

The line clicked. It began to ring again, and it was still the same result. It went straight to voicemail. Eli sat up. His heart picked up pace as the phone kept on ringing. “Pick up your damn call, Adrain what the hell is wrong with you?” 

Eventually, Eli took a deep breath. Yes, the call was ringing, at least that was progress. It gave him a thread of hope in his heart. Maybe Adrian was just busy. Maybe he’d call back.

Still, it gnawed at him the whole day through meetings, proposals, and calls with investors. His mind drifted. Again and again, he found himself replaying that night. Adrian’s smile. The way he spoke about writing was like breathing. That soft, hesitant, but electric kiss.

He couldn’t forget.

Later that evening, as Eli stepped into the parking lot with Megan, listing final instructions for the renovation team, his phone buzzed.

His stomach flipped. He looked at his phone, frowning. It wasn't a number that he knew. “Hold on,” he said, cutting Megan off mid-sentence. “I need to take this.”

He answered slowly. “Hello?”

There was a pause. Then came a voice which sounded uncertain. “Um… sorry, who is this? I’ve got a couple missed calls from this number.”

Eli froze. He knew that voice.

“Adrian?” There was another pause. Then, “Mr. Eli?”

Eli’s lips parted in disbelief and relief. “You actually called back.”

“Yes, I saw your missed calls.” Adrian defended. But didn't say anything else. He was nervous. 

“So, why haven't you called? I have been waiting for your call.”

“I was confused, and moreover, I lost your card. Didn’t even know who kept calling.”

Eli chuckled, tension leaving his shoulders. “Well, I was starting to think you were ghosting me.”

Adrian laughed lightly. “No, no. I just… I didn’t expect you to actually reach out.”

Eli’s voice softened. “I meant it when I said I wanted to see you again. How about coffee?”

He became silent, then, “I’d like that.”

**********************************

The café Eli chose was quiet, tucked between art galleries in a hidden alley of the city. The kind of place that smelled like roasted beans and old poetry books.

Adrian arrived first, nervously straightening his secondhand blazer and trying not to look too impressed by the elegance of the place.

Then Eli walked in, dressed simply but striking…wearing a black coat, soft gray sweater, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal a hint of a tattoo on his wrist. Adrian’s eyes widened slightly, betraying the surprise on his face.

“Hey,” Eli said, walking toward him with a smile that held both warmth and something unreadable.

“Hi,” Adrian replied, standing. They shook hands. It stayed a moment longer than necessary.

Over coffee, their walls slowly lowered.

Adrian spoke first. About his life. About growing up in a modest neighborhood where dreams had to be practical. How his father worked long shifts at a local warehouse and his mother ran a tiny bakery.

“They gave up a lot for me,” he said, his fingers curled around his mug. “I wanted to make them proud. But I think they just want me to be secure. And to them, Cynthia is security.”

Eli raised a brow. “But she’s not what you want.”

“No,” Adrian said, quietly. “She helped me when no one did. But… I’m not in love with her. I never was.”

There was silence. A long tensioning one.

“I know the feeling,” Eli said eventually. “My parents don’t care who I love. Just as long as she comes from a name that’ll benefit the family.”

Adrian glanced at him. “And you?”

“I want someone who sees me. Not the billions. Not the empire. Just… me. And a man. I am not interested in any relationship with a woman.”

Adrian looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. He didn't want to know what to say or even how to feel. Eli was telling him too much. Even him is not fascinated by any woman. Does it mean he's gay? Eli's kisses had given him tingling sensations than his kisses with Cynthia. 

“You're lost in thought.” Eli said, calling back his attention. He quickly turned his head. “You really write poetry?” Adrian asked, changing the topic.

“Almost every night.”

“You don’t strike me as the ‘soft’ type.”

“I hide it well.”

They laughed. Then a quiet settled between them, it was comfortable and almost too intimate.

Eli reached across the table, and his fingers brushed Adrian’s. Adrian didn’t pull away this time.

Then, he leaned it again. The kiss was slower and more sure this time. It felt like they were the only ones in that room. Adrian responded, this time without guilt.

But Eli paused, knitting his brows together.

“What?” Adrian asked softly.

Eli glanced toward the window.

“Nothing,” he murmured, though his gaze lingered. “I just… felt like we were being watched.”

Adrian turned, but no one was there. “I can't see anyone around. It's just us here.” 

Eli nodded. “I know.

But someone moved past the glass just as I turned my head.”