Maybe. If Silver were anyone else, or even if he was just the CEO of Rein Inc., Nuri probably wouldn’t resist. But he wasn’t. He was the Emperor of Ignite, responsible for an entire planet.
“It’s hard enough to do my duty as Royal Secretary,” he tried to explain. “I’m constantly disappointing my family. I don’t have time for hobbies or friends outside of other office workers or business contacts. I haven’t taken a real break in years.” This past trip to Vitality didn’t count since Silver had all but clung to him the entire time like some warden. “Becoming anything more than what I already am is too much work. I can’t handle it. I don’t want to. I’ve already given you so much. Why can’t that be enough? Why can’t you just be satisfied?”
“There seems to be some misconception,” Silver said, “about your role in my life and what it’s always been.”
Nuri couldn’t help but to frown.
“Just because we’ve never labeled it a date before, doesn’t mean you haven’t accompanied me like one to every minor and major event for the past decade. We eat meals together. Celebrate birthdays together. Live together. Sleep together. Fuck. You fret over my reputation, and I track your migraines.”
“You do?”
“I leave medicine on your desk whenever you show signs of one lasting longer than a day.”
He’d never said as much, but Nuri had known he’d been the one leaving the pills and the water. He’d always sort of assumed he’d complained or made it obvious just before, and that was the reason for it, not because Silver had been paying attention.
“As the Royal Secretary,” Silver continued, “you’re already responsible for my schedule as Emperor. This positionisn’t exclusive to Rein Inc. You screen calls, make appointments, and attend every imperial conference at my side. So, pray tell, what exactly it is you think will change when you’re named Royal Consort?”
Nuri opened his mouth, but words alluded him.
“You’re my companion. You’ve always been my companion. All I want to do is make that official in the eyes of the universe.”
“Basically, you’ve grown accustomed to my presence and don’t want to bother with the inconvenience of having to find another.” Nuri would die on this hill. “There’s been a lot of talk these past weeks about ownership and desire, but all that boils down to is your need for control and a distinct fear of change.”
Silver chuckled and crossed his arms, resting back onto the edge of the desk. “Preposterous. Let’s not forget, you’ve allowed five individuals to warm your bed. I’ve been inside dozens.”
He flinched, hating himself for it, and growing even more upset when it was clear the Emperor took notice.
“I won’t fuck anyone else,” he promised. “You’re going to be the last. And it isn’t because I’m resistant to change, or I view you as my comfort zone. You aren’t a blanket, and I am no child. True, you provide security, you help me stay focused and grounded, but—”
“You’re smothering me.” Nuri had never been brave enough to say it before, but he was admittedly afraid of where Silver was going with this confession, and that seemed to be enough to kick him into action.
“We eat together? Yes, because any time I try to make other plans, you cancel them or invite yourself along. Birthdays? I haven’t spent one with my siblings in six years because you plan these elaborate meals without ever asking me for my opinion beforehand. I had to beg your father to allow me tomove out and get my own apartment. Don’t act like you don’t remember. You threw a tantrum for months when I got my way. And what happened after? The second he died you wasted no time forcing me back to your estate. I share your room because I got sick of waking with you in my bed.”
“Enough.”
Nuri ignored him, the words spewing out of him, toxic and aimed to hit where it hurt the most. And if they were only partially true? Who cared. What did it matter? Nothing he was saying waswrong, even if all of the things he was complaining about were also things he’d ended up enjoying on some level.
“As for protecting your reputation,” he sneered, “it’s intrinsically linked with mine because I am the damn Royal Secretary to the psychopathic emperor of the Ignite throne. A title I have tried, and failed to get rid of time and time again. You’re the reason I’m like this. You’re the reason I’m trapped. You—”
“Get out,” Silver’s tone was low, his body deathly still. At some point, his expression had shuttered, so it was impossible to know what he was thinking or how pissed off Nuri had just made him.
“Gladly!” In complete disregard to his own wellbeing, Nuri stormed from the office, slamming the door behind him hard enough it could be heard rattling all the way down the hall.
Ignoring the whispers from nearby staff members, he headed for the fourth floor, N.I.M. hot on his heels. He was two minutes late for a fucking meeting with the operations department, and the assistant manager already didn’t like him much.
As soon as the elevator doors shut, he loosened his light gray tie, then focused on breathing in an attempt to calm his racing heart. He couldn’t walk through the building noticeably shaken. People would talk—even more than they were goingto about his outburst upstairs. At least Silver’s office was soundproof. With everything else going on, they didn’t have time to deal with gossip.
His tie was fixed, hair smoothed back, and shoulders squared as soon as the elevator dinged and came to stop on the fourth floor.
A part of him wanted to go back and apologize, but he squashed that pesky inner voice. Silver wanted him stuck here so badly? Fine.
Then Nuri had a job to do.
It wasn’t his fault there weren’t enough hours in the day for the two of them to waste waxing poetic about the past or trying to define their relationship.
Chapter 26:
The party was going off without a hitch. Over one hundred people filled the event hall, dressed to impress as cameras from the media captured handshakes and shared champagne between societies elite.
