“There is no us,” Atlas said on reflex. He winced. Considering the slightly swollen nick in his lip and the fact that he now knew what Cristian tasted like, it wouldn’t take much for Cristian to decimate the lie. He braced himself for the verbal onslaught.
“Fine.”
Atlas blinked and turned around in his seat, stunned by Cristian’s easy surrender. “What? No arguments? No attempts to convince me otherwise?”
Cristian made a face. “What would the point be? Friends or lovers, you’d still be in my life. And, maybe, years from now, you decide to give us a shot.”
Cristian spoke as if the span of time was inconsequential. Atlas, so familiar with restraint, struggled to imagine the discipline that would require. He tried to brush it off with a joking, “Come on, Mr. Slava, you would wait that long on the chance I may change my mind?”
His obvious doubt made the attempted humor fall flat, and he expected Cristian to be offended. Instead, it drew a genuine smile to the other man’s face. “Why does that surprise you? No matter what you may believe, you are worth waiting for, Atlas.”
He wasn’t prepared for a gentle admonishment over his questionable views of self-worth. He wasn’t prepared for the steadiness in Cristian’s voice, his gaze, his conviction. He wasn’t prepared to be so known.
There was only one way to respond. He focused on driving them home. Cristian gave him the space and silence to process. Back at the mansion, he let Atlas park and exit the car first. He waited patiently while Atlas paced beside the car, tugged at his cuffs, and finally opened the door for him. He climbed out gracefully, barely leaning into Atlas’s space, but it was enough to steal the breath from his lungs.
Cristian smiled and tugged the car door free from Atlas’s grip so he could close it. Behind him, the front door of the house opened and Andrei stepped out, looking even dourer than usual. “Cristian,” he called, “your father would like a word.”
“Coming,” Cristian called back.
The car blocked most of their bodies from Andrei’s view and Cristian mercilessly used it to his advantage. He slid past Atlas, brushing his fingers down his arm on the way. His fingertips caressed Atlas’s knuckles, flitting lightly over the scarred skin. The unexpected touch was more than a momentary goodbye. It felt...private. Decadent. He wanted to reach back and held himself in check through sheer force of will.
Cristian’s smile grew wider and he laughed. “See you in a minute,” he promised.
Andrei’s lecture began as soon as he was in range and continued all the way into the house. Alone in the quiet outside, Atlas released a shaky breath, tilted his head back, and lost himself in the stars overhead. The vastness of the night sky, the scent of chamomile, and the terrifying possibility Cristian had offered hung over and around and within him. He stood and let those things grow, even though it meant his world would never be quite the same. Minutes passed. Workers passed. Some of his doubts and fears passed. And when the door opened again and he heard Cristian’s teasing voice calling him in to join the meeting, he was willing to obey.
Chapter Seventeen
He followed Cristian up the familiar path to Decebal’s study, trying to rein himself and his emotions back in. He wasn’t sure if Decebal could read his scent the same way Cristian could, but it was a risk he had no desire to take.
The door to the study was open, revealing Decebal and Helias talking in hushed tones over some documents. The moment he spotted Atlas, Decebal dropped the conversation with his consilier.
“Mr. Vladislavic,” Atlas said, noting the way Cristian didn’t bother to close the door behind him.
“We are balancing our schedules,” Decebal said, “and wanted your perspective.”
He wasn’t sure what that meant, but cautiously offered, “I’ll do what I can.”
“Mr. Vladislavic’s travel will increase over the next few weeks, which means Mr. Slava will be running his meetings for the time being,” Helias said as he slid a document to Atlas.
The page was filled with several neat columns of meeting dates and times over the next few weeks. The list also included each meeting’s location. They were all local addresses, at least. Atlas recognized several as clinics Cristian had visited before, and assumed the rest would be other businesses in Decebal’s empire.
It was a daunting reminder of Decebal’s complicated duties within his territory. Atlas was overwhelmed and he only had to drive from meeting to meeting. He couldn’t imagine how Cristian was feeling about this sudden, drastic change in their usual routine. And as much as he wanted to ask, it would be unprofessional to take such a liberty in front of their current audience.
“Are all these meetings set already?” Atlas asked Helias instead, trying to figure out how much wiggle room Cristian’s schedule could have.
“Some could be moved or rearranged,” Helias said, “though the fewer changes we need to make, the better. Do you see any issues?”
Atlas pointed at two of the meeting
s on the page. “It would be difficult to drive between these locations with those meeting times,” he warned. “And if anything runs over, we’d definitely be late.”
“Are there any other conflicts you can see?” Decebal asked while Helias wrote something on his copy of the schedule.
Atlas scanned the page again, offering his feedback about interrupted lines of travel, or nights when they’d burn too much time doubling back and forth across Scarsdale. Helias took diligent notes on all his comments, and Decebal leaned back in his chair, watching Atlas work with something akin to pride on his face. Cristian didn’t speak up once, content to sit near the window and watch. When Atlas finished, Decebal looked to Cristian and waved a hand in Atlas’s direction.
“You see?” the man asked his son. “Your success hinges on the ability of those working with you. You complain about meetings, but this is why they matter. If you take them seriously and invite the correct people, your work is lessened. You will have more freedom to spend on other projects.” Decebal tapped the schedule in front of Atlas with his finger emphatically. “But you do the real work first, yes?”
“Yes, Father,” Cristian agreed quietly.