Chapter Three

 Unseen Consequences

Eli had barely touched his coffee.

The steam nestled toward his face, but he didn’t notice. Or maybe he didn't care. His fingers were drummed absently on the desk as his eyes stared blankly at the corner of the room. The office was in its usual pristine condition. self organized chaos covered the beauty of the office. but his mind was anything but organized. He didn't even care if things were done again. 

He hadn’t stopped thinking about Adrian since the night of the gala.

That kiss….That hesitant, electric kiss under the city lights had melted itself into his memory. It wasn’t the kind of kiss he was used to drunk, practiced, and meaningless. In fact it's been years since he last kissed someone. 

His kiss with Adrian was the kind that left a mark. And would not go away in a long period of time. His soft, big lips, his warm breath, and his eyes. Adrian had been nervous, but he didn't pull away immediately. Maybe the feeling was mutual. But why hasn't he called? 

“Sir?” Megan’s voice snapped him back. “You’ve been staring at the same file for ten minutes.”

Eli blinked down at the portfolio in front of him. He hadn’t read a single word. With a sigh, he slammed it shut and leaned back in his chair. He hated the fact that Megan interrupted his blissful thought. 

“Is something wrong? Are you bothered?” Megan asked carefully.

“No, I'm not. Thanks for asking.” Eli said sharply.

She frowned. “It’s just… you’ve been kind of… off.”

He glanced at her, narrowing his eyes at her. “Define ‘off.’”

“Well, smiling at your own thoughts, zoning out during calls, and asking me three times if we’ve received any new invitations from the Echo which, by the way, we haven’t.”

Eli sat up straighter. “Megan.” She raised a brow. “Yes, Mr. Chamberlin?”

“Do I pay you to read my expressions, monitor my actions or do your job?”

The tone was icy. Megan flinched, then stiffened. She wasn't expecting such a tackle from him. 

“No, sir,” she said quietly. “You pay me to manage your schedule, which I’m doing.” She turned away, but her jaw was tight. “Sorry for asking.”

Eli immediately regretted his tone, but pride wrapped around his throat like a noose. He wouldn't apologize to her for cutting off his good memories. 

“Good. you should have better be,” he muttered, picking up another file he didn’t care about.

Megan walked out silently, her heels echoing on the glass floor. Once she was gone, Eli exhaled and leaned forward, pressing his palms into his eyes.

Why didn’t I get his number? What should I do? What if he didn't call, or perhaps lost my own contact? How do I reach him? 

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

Weeks had passed since the gala. Then weeks turned into months. There was no call, no text. Nothing from him.

And Eli had waited. He never waited. He’d told himself it didn’t matter. That Adrian was just a moment, a distraction but the truth was, that night had stirred something open inside him. Adrian had this calm glow about him, like someone who hadn’t yet been ruined by the world. Eli hated how much he wanted to see that glow again. Hated it… but needed it.

Out of frustration, he began asking around quietly, but carefully. He made a few discreet calls to mutual contacts from the gala. No last name, no phone number. Just a face and the name “Adrian.”

Most had no clue. A few said he might be a writer on a minor magazine’s staff, but no one knew more. Eli nearly gave up until fate decided to throw him a bone.

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

Adrian sat on his bed, with his legs folded beneath him, the light of his laptop screen was the only light in his room. He was reading a half-finished article. but his fingers hovered, and remained unmoving over the keyboard.

His thoughts wouldn’t cooperate. The kiss haunted him. Not just the kiss but the way Eli had looked at him. Like he saw something in him. And no one ever looked at Adrian like that. Not even Cynthia.

He groaned, dragging a hand through his hair.

What the hell had that been? A game? A one-off thrill for a bored billionaire? Eli had kissed him, but why? To experiment? Because he didn't even try to chase him when he ran away. 

Then again… maybe he was waiting on Adrian to make the first move?

His phone rang, and it was Cynthia. He ignored it and tossed it across the bed.

She didn’t deserve this. She had helped him so much, from editing his work, connecting him to people, cheering him on when no one else did. He should be grateful. He was grateful.

But he wasn’t in love. And now, thanks to one kiss, one moment, he couldn’t even look at her without feeling like a liar.

Get over it, he told himself. Eli’s not thinking about you. He’s rich. He’s busy. You’re just a charity-case writer with a shaky wardrobe and a borrowed life.

Still… he wished he had called.

Back in Eli’s office, he hadn't fully started his day. Eli was flipping absentmindedly through a glossy magazine from one of the press tables at the gala. Most of it was fluff who wore what, who funded what, who’s likely to divorce who.

He turned another page, barely looking.

Then he stopped. In one of the background photos, barely in frame, there he was.

Adrian. He had photo-bombed a shot of the art display, half-turned, squinting his eyes at a painting. His shape was unmistakable. Eli’s heart slammed against his ribs.

But that wasn’t what caught his attention. It was the lanyard around Adrian’s neck. Clear as day, in tiny reflective letters: The Reader’s Digest, Freelance Contributor.

Eli stared at the image, a slow and dangerous smile formed on his lips.

“There you are,” he murmured.

He tore the page from the magazine and set it on his desk, tapping his finger against Adrian’s ID badge.

Now I know where to find you.

A plan was already forming in his mind, fast and merciless. He leaned back in his chair, as his eyes gleamed.

“Let’s see what you do, Adrian Cross,” he whispered. “W

hen the man you kissed shows up… on your turf.”