BENEATH THE SURFACE

The city faded behind them in streaks of grey and sunlight as Henry drove down a quiet road leading to Melbourne. Caleb watched the trees blur by. Henry sat in the driver’s seat, unusually quiet, fingers drumming the steering wheel in a rhythm only he understood.

“Still nervous?” Caleb asked softly.

Henry glanced over with a short laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“You’ve only checked your rearview mirror every twenty seconds like someone’s tailing us.”

Henry rolled his eyes but smiled. “I just… I don’t know. This matters. He’s never met anyone I’ve dated and actually liked. So I’m hoping today breaks that record.”

Caleb leaned back, stretching his arm across the console to trace his fingers over Henry’s. “You act like you’re introducing me to a king or something.”

“He might as well be,” Henry muttered, eyes on the road. “He’s intense.”

Caleb raised a brow. “So this is a test.”

“No—” Henry paused, then corrected himself. “Okay. Maybe a little. But it’s not like a grilling. He’s just… you know what? F**k it.”

Henry slowed as he pulled into a long driveway lined with manicured hedges and low stone walls.

“Wow,” Caleb murmured, taking in the house. Sleek, modern—too perfect. Like something out of a design magazine. “He lives here alone?”

“Yep. My mom moved out after the divorce, but Dad kept the house. It’s his kingdom.”

Caleb exhaled slowly. The house was beautiful—but intimidating. It made everything feel suddenly more real.

Henry parked and cut the engine, then turned fully toward him. “Last chance to run.”

“Not a chance,” Caleb said, smiling.

Henry leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got this. He’s going to love you. He’d be insane not to.”

They stepped out of the car and walked up to the door.

“He’s chill,” Henry said as he rang the doorbell. “Just don’t overthink it.”

The door opened—and Caleb’s thoughts completely derailed.

Asher. Henry’s dad.

He wasn’t just attractive—he was arresting. Tall, confident, with silver at his temples and a low, amused gaze like he already knew all your secrets. His eyes landed on Caleb, lingering a second too long, and something unspoken passed between them.

Asher’s mouth curved into a polite smile, but his eyes were unreadable as he looked at Caleb, who carried a kind of beauty that felt distant—like something you could admire but never hold.

“You must be Caleb,” he said, offering his hand.

His voice was deep and smooth. Caleb shook it—warm and firm. His breath caught for a second longer than it should have.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Asher said.

“Oh? Hope it was good.” Caleb extended his hand, steady.

Asher took it again—his grip firm, his gaze never wavering. “Call me Asher.”

Caleb chuckled softly. “Just Asher is fine.” He smiled, looking between Henry and Asher. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“My pleasure,” Asher replied.

Damn it. Henry’s dad is hot, Caleb thought.

Asher stepped aside, and they entered a living room that looked straight out of a modern design magazine. Minimalist, masculine, expensive. Caleb tried not to look impressed—but failed.

Henry’s phone buzzed. He stepped away to take the call—his mom, probably.

“You want a drink?” Asher asked.

Caleb smiled, looking into Asher’s eyes. “Sure.”

“Please, have a seat while I get you something,” Asher said, smiling.

Caleb sat comfortably on the sofa.

“Lunch is almost ready. I’ll be back in a jiff,” Asher added as he walked toward the fridge.

“I told you, my dad is cool,” Henry said, grinning as he pulled out a chair for Caleb at the long oak table.

“I can see that.” Caleb smiled politely and sat down, smoothing his hands over his jeans.

---

Caleb sat with Henry at the long glass dining table, laughing at one of Henry’s terrible jokes as Asher poured wine into their glasses.

Asher’s gaze lingered on Caleb longer than it should have, his eyes tracing the lines of the younger man’s face, the careless grin, the way his fingers curled slightly around the stem of the wineglass. There was too much to feel, and none of it could be spoken.

“You’re incredible with him,” Caleb said softly.

Asher looked up slowly. “He’s my son.”

“No, I meant… you’re incredible with people you care about. It shows.”

“Dad,” Henry interrupted, slipping into the seat next to Caleb. “Easy on him.” He smiled.

Asher lifted a brow. “I was being polite.”

They ate in a strange kind of quiet—Henry oblivious, chatting between bites, while Caleb tried not to squirm under Asher’s occasional glances.

“So,” Asher said, casually, setting down his glass, “how did you and Henry meet?”

Caleb hesitated, the question catching in his throat. He managed a tight smile, stabbing at the overpriced salad like it had wronged him. “At a bar,” he said eventually. “He was drinking alone.”

Asher huffed a quiet laugh. “Sounds like Henry. Always more comfortable watching from the sidelines.”

Noticing Caleb’s discomfort, Asher cleared his throat. “So,” he said, voice low and steady, “what is it you do for a living, Caleb?”

Caught off guard by the shift in tone, Caleb blinked before answering. He set his glass down, fingers curling around the rim.

“I’m a creative director,” he said. “Freelance, mostly. I work with brands on visual identity—logos, campaign styling, digital design. A lot of lifestyle clients. Startups that want to look expensive.”

Asher’s eyes didn’t waver. “Explains the taste,” he said, a slow smile playing on his lips. “Everything about you looks... curated.”

Caleb let out a quiet laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” Asher said.

He walked into his room and returned with a sleek black folder, setting it gently on the counter in front of Caleb.

Henry looked between the two of them but said nothing.

“I might have something you’d be interested in,” Asher said. “A project. I’ve been developing a retreat property upstate. Boutique, high-end, extremely private. Think minimalism meets indulgence.”

Caleb opened the folder, fingers brushing the edge of the thick matte pages. “This is really nice,” he murmured, scanning the designs. “It’s already well thought-out.”

Asher leaned forward slightly, his voice lower now. “It needs someone who can give it identity. Branding. A look and feel that tells a story. And I think you’re the one to do it.”

Caleb looked up, surprised by both the offer and the sincerity behind it. “You’re offering me a contract?”

“I’m offering you the chance to own the visual direction from day one. I’ll cover the budget. All I want is for the place to look like someone who gives a damn built it.”

There was a thrum under Caleb’s skin. From the proposition, sure—but also from the way Asher was looking at him. Like he wasn’t just offering a job. Like he was offering something much harder to refuse.

Caleb stared down at the folder. The contract was unspoken but tangible.

“I won’t let you down, sir,” Caleb said.

“And you live in the city?” Asher asked.

“Brooklyn.”

“Ah,” Asher nodded, as if that explained everything. “Brooklyn guys always look like they’re going somewhere better.”

Caleb smirked. “We usually are.”

That earned a low chuckle from Asher.

Henry shook his head with a smile, continuing to eat.

“I’ll need your email,” he said casually, lifting his tumbler of water. “There’s a branding pitch coming up for one of my clients—I’d also like to send you the brief. No pressure, of course.”

Caleb blinked, caught off guard by the shift from personal to professional. “Sure, of course,” he replied, rattling off his email as Asher pulled his phone out and typed it in smoothly.

“Perfect,” Asher said, tucking the phone back into his breast pocket. “But let’s not ruin such a perfect day with talk of business. Not when I’ve only just gotten to know the man my son can’t stop talking about.”

Henry, who had been quietly sipping his wine, glanced up with a warm smile. “I’m just glad you’re getting along.”

Asher’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. “So am I.”

After lunch, Caleb and Henry prepared to leave. Asher followed them to the door, his presence still commanding despite the casual linen he wore.

“Wait,” he said as Caleb stepped down toward the car. “One last thing.”

He opened his arms.

Later, as they left the house, Asher followed them to the door, his presence still commanding despite the casual linen he wore.

“Wait,” he said as Caleb stepped down toward the car. “One last thing.”

He opened his arms. Caleb, slightly surprised, smiled and stepped into the embrace.

Asher’s grip was gentle, but his breath ghosted over Caleb’s ear. “You’re… remarkably handsome. And you don’t even try. You’re going to ruin me.”

Caleb froze.

Asher released him a second later, like nothing had been said.

Caleb stepped back, stunned but unable to fully hide the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Henry’s voice rang out from the car. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Caleb replied, voice tight. “Coming.”

“Drive safe,” Asher said with a wink, stepping back.

As Henry started the engine, Caleb looked back once, catching Asher’s silhouette framed in the front door.

“Goodbye,” Henry called out.

“Not for long, I hope,” Asher replied.

Henry started the engine, and they drove off.

---

The email arrived the next morning. A clean brief. Branding overhaul for a luxury homeware brand. Caleb replied with interest.

Asher’s follow-up came quickly.

> Would love to walk you through it. Come by my office tomorrow—nothing formal.

Caleb showed up at noon the next day. Asher’s office was every bit the shrine to power and wealth he’d imagined.