Just the low hum of machinery and the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead filling the space.
Elias exhales slowly, some of the tension draining from his posture now that we’re alone.
“That went well,” he says lightly.
I watch him.
“You call that well?” I ask.
“You’re not dead,” he replies. “My father’s not dead. The truce stands. Feels like a win.”
The corner of my mouth lifts and the elevator begins its descent.
I reach forward and press the emergency stop button.
The car jerks to a halt.
Elias blinks. “Lucian?—”
Before he can finish, I close the distance between us and grip his jaw, tilting his face up to mine.
I kiss him hard, pride coming from me in waves.
He gasps softly against my mouth, hands immediately fisting into my suit jacket like he’s been waiting for this.
The air inside the elevator thickens.
“You,” I murmur against his lips, “were extraordinary.”
He smiles faintly, breath warm against my skin. “I thought you didn’t like when I tested you.”
“I don’t.”
My mouth finds his again.
“But standing in front of a room full of armed men,” I continue between kisses, “and calling me yours?”
His breath catches.
“That was something else.”
His hands slide up to my shoulders.
“You didn’t look like you hated it,” he whispers.
I press him back gently against the mirrored wall, one hand braced beside his head.
“I loved it,” I admit quietly.
His eyes darken at that.
“You called me your lover,” I say.
He swallows. “You are.”
The word lands heavier in the enclosed space.
I lower my mouth to his jaw, then to his throat, kissing slow and deliberate. Not rushed. Not frantic.
