When I push through the door to the parking lot, Elias is already there, leaning against the car with his arms crossed, the engine running and warm air already fogging faintly from the vents. He holds the passenger door open for me, then circles to the driver’s side once I’m settled.
“We don‘t have to stay long,” he says as he puts on his seatbelt. “Just however long you need. However much you can handle. This is about what works for you, Maya. Not what they want or what I think is best. You.” The sincerity behind the words sends a confusing pulse of warmth through my chest.
“Thanks,” I say softly. “For... all of it. For being here. For not making this harder than it already is.”
He nods once, then eases the car out of the parking lot. We travel in relative silence, the only sound the soft hum of the engineand the occasional comment about traffic or the route. I'm left alone with my thoughts as they circle the fact that I'm going—not because anyone pressured me into it or because my omega left me no choice, but because I said yes. Because some part of me wanted to. The realization is unsettling in ways I'm not ready to examine too closely.
Chapter 17
Maya
Elias pulls into a long driveway, the car slowing as we approach Adrian and Bash’s house. Nerves gather low in my stomach with each passing second. Their house rises from the landscape like it’s always belonged there—not flashy or attention-seeking, but unmistakably expensive. Clean lines. Natural stone and glass. The kind of place built by people secure enough not to turn wealth into a performance.
It’s massive. Bigger than anything I’ve ever stepped foot in outside of industry events or celebrity shoots. The house sprawls across the hillside, pale stone and glass catching the late afternoon sun, and before I can take it in, the garage door slides open at Elias's approach as though it's been expecting us.
He parks in one of the empty spots and cuts the engine, leaving us in sudden silence. Neither of us moves immediately.
“I can take you home,” Elias says after a moment. “If you’ve changed your mind. If this is too much, too soon. We can just turn around. No explanation needed.”
The offer settles between us—simple, genuine, exactly what I should want to hear. A chance to step back, to maintain the distance, to keep pretending this is something I can manage on my own.
But I shake my head without fully deciding to, my body responding before my brain can catch up. “I’m fine,” I say automatically. “Let’s just... see what happens.”
He nods once, before opening his door and stepping out. I open the door on my side of the car and slide out of the seat carefully.
Elias falls into step beside me as we move deeper into the garage. The garage itself is massive—less a garage and more a polished showroom attached to a house. Their SUV sits beside two other vehicles, a low silver sports car and a restored black truck that looks custom in a way I probably can’t even afford to identify. The concrete floors shine beneath soft recessed lighting, every surface clean without feeling sterile.
Everything about the space reinforces the same thing: wealth. Not flashy celebrity excess, but the kind that settles into the structure of a person’s life so completely they stop thinking about it.
My pulse kicks unevenly as he leads me toward the door connecting the garage to the house. I shouldn’t be this aware of him. Of the broad line of his shoulders as he walks beside me, or the confidence in the way he carries himself. We reach the door at the same time, Elias stepping back slightly to give me room to ring the bell. I raise my hand, then pause, suddenly aware of what I’m about to do. Once I press that button, there’s no going back to how things were before. Once I step through that door, I can’t keep pretending the connection between us is something temporary or easy to explain away.
I press the bell before I can second-guess myself, the chime echoing through the garage. For a moment, there's only the hum of the house and the presence of Elias beside me. Then footstepssound from somewhere inside, quick and purposeful as they approach the door. It swings open before I‘m ready, Adrian filling the frame. He’s dressed casually in dark jeans and a gray Henley.
“There she is,” he says, his voice warm with genuine welcome. “Right on time.” His eyes find mine across the threshold. “Come in. It’s getting cold out there.” It’s the same look he gave me on set after I spoke—focused, certain, like he’s already decided I’m part of this, whether I’ve caught up to that idea or not.
The warm welcome stirs a warmth I still don’t know how to handle. “Thanks,” I say. “For inviting us.” Adrian’s smile widens. “Are you kidding? We should be thanking you for coming.” He steps back to let us inside, hitting a button on the wall beside the door as the garage closes behind us. “Come on,” he says easily. “I’ve already got the documentary queued up and ready to go. Make yourselves at home.”
He doesn’t mention the pre-heat. He just acts like this was always the plan—a casual get-together, a normal Saturday, nothing complicated or loaded about it.
I should be relieved.
Instead, the effort it takes to make everything feel ordinary only makes me more aware of how unusual this is.
Because Adrian isn't treating me like a problem to solve or a situation to manage. He's acting like I belong here.
Elias moves first, stepping through the doorway without closing the distance between us. “Thanks for having us,” he says, his voice as even as always. “We appreciate the invitation.”
Adrian nods once, accepting the statement at face value. “Of course,” he replies easily. “You‘re always welcome here. Both of you.”
A brief look passes between them, gone almost as quickly as it appears. Whatever it means, they seem to understand each other without needing to say a word. Then Adrian’s gaze finds mine over Elias’s shoulder, a small shift that pulls me into the moment without making a point of it.
“Come in,” he teases. “Bash’s in the kitchen. He’ll be disappointed if he misses your grand entrance.”
I step through the doorway, and the shift is immediate. The air feels different the moment I cross the threshold—warmer, richer with scents my body suddenly knows how to separate and understand.
The house smells like them. Warm amber and cedar settle into the space, layered with the sharper blend of bergamot and black pepper. And beside me is the familiar presence of rain-soaked stone and dark musk that belongs to Elias. Familiar enough now that the grounding effect hits before I even consciously register it. The change hits my omega instantly. The restless heat beneath my skin eases, the sharp tension that’s been building since earlier softening into a low, lingering glow that finally lets me breathe properly again. Nadia’s voice echoes in the back of my head—your symptoms should be getting worse, not leveling out.
But they’re not. Not here. Not with them.
