Page 2 — The Invitation
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, revealing the quiet luxury of Adrian Cole's world. The air inside the penthouse was warm, scented faintly with sandalwood and rain. Every surface gleamed — marble floors, glass walls, dark leather, and the muted glow of city lights spilling through vast windows.
Eli stepped in cautiously, his wet shoes leaving faint prints on the polished floor. He looked impossibly small in the expanse of the room — a trembling figure surrounded by wealth he could hardly comprehend.
Adrian loosened his tie, setting the whiskey tumbler on the table. "You can dry off there," he said, gesturing toward the bathroom. "Towels are in the cabinet. Take your time."
Eli hesitated, glancing toward him. "Why are you doing this?"
Adrian's gaze met his — sharp, unreadable. "Do I need a reason to help someone?"
"Yes," Eli murmured, his voice soft but steady. "People like you always have a reason."
A ghost of a smile crossed Adrian's lips. "Maybe I do."
The boy disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the silence, mingling with the hum of the city outside. Adrian poured himself another drink, staring into the amber liquid as though it held the answer to a question he couldn't ask aloud.
When Eli returned, wearing one of Adrian's shirts that hung loosely around his frame, the room seemed smaller — or perhaps it was just the way Adrian's eyes followed him now, tracing the line of his collar, the curve of his throat.
"You should eat something," Adrian said finally, his tone softer now. "There's food in the kitchen."
Eli nodded but didn't move. "You don't have to pretend to be kind."
Adrian arched a brow. "And what makes you think I am pretending?"
"Because kindness doesn't look like you," Eli replied quietly.
For a moment, silence settled between them again — the kind that felt heavy with things unsaid. Adrian's expression darkened, not with anger, but with a strange kind of admiration.
"You're braver than you look," he said.
"I'm just tired of being afraid," Eli whispered.
Adrian stepped closer, his presence overwhelming — calm, magnetic, impossible to ignore. "Then stop running from it."
Eli's breath hitched. The distance between them was thin as air now, trembling with unspoken questions. But before either could cross it, Adrian turned away.
"Your room is down the hall," he said, his voice low, composed again. "You can stay until the rain stops."
Eli lingered, watching him from the doorway. Something about Adrian's restraint felt more dangerous than any threat could be.
"Thank you," Eli murmured.
Adrian didn't look back. "Don't thank me yet."
The storm outside raged on, the city lights bleeding into the dark. And somewhere between the echoes of thunder and silence, something unholy and beautiful began to take shape — a connection neither of them coul
d name, but both were already trapped inside.