The table falls into easy laughter at my possessive display. Even Victor cracks a smile, his massive shoulders finally relaxing as he leans into Theo’s space.
“Well, that settles that,” Knox raises his glass in a mock toast. “To Julian, staking his claim.”
“You’re one to talk,” Bianca counters, raising an eyebrow. “I distinctly recall someone marking my collarbone so thoroughly last week that I had to wear turtlenecks to three client meetings, and it wasn’t even cold outside.”
Knox doesn’t deny it, merely smirks into his whiskey glass.
Elliot shifts against me, his body warm and pliant. The tension that normally lives in his shoulders has melted away with the alcohol and company. His hand finds mine beneath the table, fingers intertwining naturally.
“Remember when Julian would go through prey like designer suits?” Theo muses. “One Hunt to the next, never the same person twice.”
I shoot him a warning look, but Elliot surprises me by laughing.
“He had to wait for perfection,” Elliot says.
A warm, unfamiliar sensation blooms in my chest. Pride, perhaps. Or something dangerously close to happiness.
As midnight approaches, I catch Elliot trying to stifle a yawn.
“Time to head out,” I announce, standing and pulling Elliot up with me. “Some of us have a gallery to rebuild in the morning.”
The goodbyes are easy and brief. Outside, I raise my hand for a cab, and one materializes almost instantly—another benefit of the Frost name.
In the back seat, Elliot surprises me by leaning in first, his lips finding mine confidently. There’s nothing hesitant in the way he kisses me now. His hand cups my jaw, thumb brushing my cheekbone as his tongue teases the seam of my lips.
I pull back slightly, studying his face in the shifting glow of passing streetlights. “Bold move, Chambers. What happened to the man who couldn’t even say the word ‘gay’ two months ago?”
Elliot’s smile reaches his eyes. “He found someone worth being brave for.”
He leans in again, this time initiating a deeper kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes hold mine without a trace of shame or uncertainty. The cab driver glances in the rearview mirror, then quickly away, but Elliot doesn’t flinch or retreat.
“Look at you,” I murmur against his lips. “Making out in the back of cabs like a teenager.”
“Making up for lost time,” he corrects, nipping at my bottom lip.
God, I love this man more than I thought possible.
39
ELLIOT
Iwhite-knuckle the door handle as Julian’s Aston Martin turns onto Harrison Street. My heart hammers against my ribs, each beat a reminder of what I’ve lost, what my mother took from me.
“We can turn around if you’re not ready,” Julian says, his voice gentle as he navigates the morning traffic.
“No, I need to see it.” The words feel thick in my throat. “I’ve been avoiding it for weeks.”
Julian reaches across the console and squeezes my thigh. “I’ll be right beside you.”
He parks at the curb, and for a moment, I can’t bring myself to look up. The gallery had been my sanctuary, my achievement, the one place where I felt completely in control. Now...
“Elliot,” Julian’s voice pulls me back. “Look.”
I finally raise my eyes and gasp. Where I expected to find a charred skeleton of my former life stands a buzzing construction site. The blackened ruins have vanished completely. In their place, a fresh foundation spreads across not just my original lot but also the adjacent property. Workers in hard hats move with purpose, surveying equipment positioned around the perimeter.
“You... expanded it?” I manage, stepping out of the car.
Julian comes around to my side, his hand finding the small of my back. “Double the exhibition space, plus a dedicated area for LGBTQ+ artists as we discussed.” He guides me closer to the fence line. “The insurance money covered the original footprint. The expansion is my investment in our future.”
