Chapter 33: The Only Dream That Matters
The university's technology transfer office felt like a cage, all polished wood and hushed expectations. Dr. Evans offered them the incubator program—space, mentorship, a grant. A golden handshake that came with invisible strings. Elias was already calculating the risks, the exposure.
But then Eleanor's hand found his under the table. A simple, warm pressure. He looked at her, and the storm in his mind stilled.
"Thank you, Dr. Evans," Eleanor said, her voice a calm, clear bell in the tense room. "That's a generous offer. But our focus right now is on building a strong foundation for us, not just for a business." She squeezed Elias's hand, her gaze never leaving the director's. "We'll let you know if our priorities change."
It was a polite, elegant refusal that left no room for argument. A declaration that their private world was not for sale.
As they stepped out into the autumn sunlight, Elias pulled her to a stop beneath a canopy of fiery red leaves. He didn't speak. He just framed her face with his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks, his eyes searching hers with a wonder that stole her breath.
"You amaze me," he whispered, his voice thick. "You looked at everything that office represented—the legitimacy, the prestige—and you chose... us."
"Did you ever doubt it?" she whispered back, her hands coming up to cover his.
"Every day," he confessed, the admission raw and honest. "A part of me is still that scared boy, convinced he doesn't deserve you. Convinced you'll see the mess and the secrets and finally walk away."
A soft, sad smile touched her lips. She rose on her toes and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips. "Then I'll just have to spend the rest of my life convincing you otherwise."
The world narrowed to the space between them, the rustle of leaves, the warmth of his hands on her skin. This was the heart of their story. Not the business, not the battles. This.
They spent the afternoon in a world of their own making. They didn't go to the new office. They went to the park, walking hand-in-hand along paths carpeted with fallen leaves, talking about everything and nothing. They bought hot chocolate from a street vendor, and Elias gently wiped a spot of whipped cream from her nose, his laughter a low, happy sound that felt like a victory in itself.
Later, curled together on their sofa as twilight painted the room in shades of violet and gold, Eleanor broke the comfortable silence.
"The fellowship in Milan," she said softly, her head resting on his chest. "It was a beautiful offer."
His heart clenched, the old guilt surfacing. "Eleanor—"
"I didn't want it," she interrupted, tilting her head back to look at him. Her eyes were clear and sure. "Not if it meant being away from you. My dream wasn't a city. It was a person. It was you."
The words sank into him, healing a wound he'd carried for two lifetimes. He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair, breathing in the scent that was home. "You are my dream," he whispered, the words a vow. "The only one I've ever had."
That night, their lovemaking was different. It was slower, deeper, a silent conversation of gratitude and devotion. It was his hands memorizing the curve of her spine, her name a prayer on his lips. It was the way she held his gaze in the moonlight, letting him see the absolute, unshakable trust in her soul. It was a reaffirmation, a promise written on skin and sealed with shared breath.
Afterward, wrapped in the warmth of each other and their tangled sheets, Elias knew a peace so profound it felt sacred. Robert Miller could have his schemes and his power plays. The investigator could ask her questions. None of it could touch the fortress they had built here, in this bed, in this room.
He had traveled through time for a second chance, and he had found it not in an empire, but in the quiet, steady rhythm of Eleanor's heart beating against his own. This was the only empire worth having. This was the only battle worth winning. And as he drifted to sleep with her in his arms, he knew, with absolute certainty, that they already had.