Henry didn’t have an answer.
Knock. Knock.
The sharp sound at the office door pulled Henry out of his thoughts.
Cyrus stepped inside, offering a polite nod. "Sir... I’m here to tell you that the Westbridge Group just reached out. They want to know when you will be available to meet with them."
Henry let out a slow breath. "Look into my schedule and pick a day that fits. But inform me before you confirm with them so I can approve it."
"Okay, sir," Cyrus said, bowing his head before turning to leave the office.
Once Cyrus was gone, Henry forced his focus back onto his work. He buried himself in spreadsheets and contracts, working through the afternoon and into the evening. By the time he finally decided to leave the office, the city outside his window was already dark. He buzzed for Cyrus and instructed him to gather his laptop, jacket, and the remaining files he needed to take home.
He took the elevator down to the parking garage, where his driver was waiting. He slipped into the back seat, and the driver started the car as they began the drive back to Henry’s mansion.
The drive home took some time before the car finally stopped in front of his mansion. Henry stepped out and walked inside. As he entered the living room, his housekeeper, Stella, came over from the hallway.
"Welcome back, sir."
She was about to say something else, but Henry didn’t even slow down to listen. He brushed past her without a word, his shoes clicking against the marble floor as he headed straight for the grand staircase and made his way upstairs to his bedroom.
When he reached his bedroom, he stepped inside and shut the heavy oak door behind him. The soft click cut him off from the rest of the house.
Exhausted from the long day and still weighed down by the memory of his confrontation with Elisha, Henry wanted nothing more than to shed the weight of the day. He took off his clothes one piece at a time, the tailored jacket, the silk tie, and the button-down shirt, until he stood completely naked in the middle of his room.
With a low groan, he dropped face-first onto the mattress, his face sinking into the soft pillows. He closed his eyes, and at once, his mind pulled him back to the office earlier that day, to Elisha’s fierce, possessive glare.
"You are mine."
The words echoed in his head. What did Elisha mean by calling him his when he had always made it clear that they were nothing more than best friends?
Henry couldn’t understand what had suddenly changed. Elisha had spent the past three months pushing him away and making it clear that their relationship was nothing beyond friendship. So why was he acting like Henry belonged to him now?
Then, without warning, the sliding frosted-glass door of his en-suite bathroom clicked open.
The soft sound cut through the silence of the room. Henry’s eyes snapped open. Adrenaline surged through his veins, chasing away his exhaustion as he quickly pushed himself up from the bed, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
"Who is there?!" he shouted, his voice cracking with sudden panic.
He scrambled backward, snatching the thick silk duvet from the mattress and wrapping it tightly around his naked body. He stood frozen beside the bed, his muscles trembling as he waited in the suffocating silence for the intruder to reveal himself.
The shadows shifted near the bathroom doorway. A tall, broad figure stepped out into the bedroom light.
Elisha Edmund.
He wore nothing but a white towel slung low across his hips. Fresh droplets of water glistened on his damp, dark hair, trailing down his shoulders and across his chest. He moved with a lazy confidence, his dark eyes locked on Henry as he swept a hand through his wet hair.
Henry’s breath hitched. He swallowed hard, his eyes involuntarily tracing the familiar lines of Elisha’s body, a body he knew far too well and one that still haunted his nights.
Elisha stopped a few feet away, a slow, infuriating smirk curving across his lips.
"Welcome home, bestie," Elisha murmured, his voice dripping with smooth mockery.
Henry snapped out of his trance, blood rushing to his face as blind rage overtook his shock. "Elisha Edmund, what the hell are you doing in my house?"
Elisha’s smirk. "I love the way you say my full name, Henry."
"Just tell me what exactly you’re doing here."
Elisha raised an eyebrow and took a slow step forward. "Are you seriously asking me what I’m doing in my house?"
"This is not your house, you piece of shit!" Henry yelled, clutching the duvet tightly against his chest.
"For the record, sweetheart," Elisha replied, his gaze dipping toward the makeshift barrier of fabric, "whatever belongs to you belongs to me."
"Whatever—put your clothes on and get the fuck out of my room!"
"No way," Elisha said, crossing his arms over his chest, the muscles shifting beneath his damp skin. "I’m here to spend the night. And honestly, you really don’t need to cover up your cucumber, Henry. I’ve seen it plenty of times. In fact, I can even describe every single inch of—"
Before Elisha could finish, Henry snapped. He grabbed a heavy decorative pillow from the bed and threw it straight at Elisha’s face.
"Get the fuck out!"
Elisha easily sidestepped the pillow, his smirk widening into an outright grin as it hit the floor.
"I’m not going anywhere."
"Fine," Henry hissed, clutching the duvet tighter around his body like armor.
Without giving Elisha another chance to speak, Henry turned on his heel and bolted across the room, disappearing into the walk-in closet before slamming the heavy sliding door shut behind him.
Leaning back against the closet door, Henry’s chest heaved as he listened to the faint, deep sound of Elisha’s laughter echoing through the bedroom.
Taking a steadying breath, Henry opened his drawers and changed into a pair of soft silk pajamas. He grabbed an extra set from the shelf, pulled open the closet door, and stepped back into the bedroom without looking at Elisha.
He tossed the spare clothes straight at Elisha’s chest. "Wear them or throw them away. I don’t care."
Elisha caught the clothes with a grin. "I thought you were going to say, ’Wear them or sleep naked.’ I would have happily slept naked."
Henry stared at him, letting out a slow, exhausted sigh as he shook his head. "What the hell has gotten into you?"
Before Elisha could reply, Henry turned on his heel and walked right out of the bedroom.
"Henry, wait for me!" Elisha called after him.
Henry didn’t bother to answer.
A few minutes later, after quickly changing into the pajamas, Elisha hurried downstairs to the living room. Henry was already sitting on the sofa, the soft glow of the television casting light across his face as the evening news played in the background.
Elisha walked over and sat down beside him.
For a long while, neither of them spoke. The silence filled the room, broken only by the anchor’s voice from the television.
Finally, Elisha broke the silence, his usual arrogance replaced by a quieter tone. "Henry... I’m—I’m sorry for how I acted at your office earlier."
Henry kept his eyes on the television.
"Everything I said and did was out of line. Please forgive me."
Henry finally turned to look at him. He studied Elisha for a moment before speaking. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Yes," Elisha answered immediately.
"What exactly got into you? Why did you storm into my office and scream like a maniac?"
Elisha hesitated, looking away for a moment. "I wasn’t thinking straight. I guess because you’re my best friend, I was just... terrified of losing you to someone else."
Henry scoffed softly. "Right. Because we’re best friends."
"Yes, because we’re best friends!" Elisha insisted, leaning forward slightly. "And besides, you’re still so young. Why are you rushing into marriage?"
"Young?" Henry’s voice sharpened. "I have everything it takes, Eli. My empire, my life, my stability. So what do you mean by young?"
Elisha opened his mouth, but no words came out. He simply stared at him, caught off guard.
"Fine. What about what you said earlier? What did you mean when you said I’m yours?" Henry asked.
Elisha blinked, scrambling for an excuse. "I—I meant you’re my best friend. We share everything."
"If everything is just about us being best friends," Henry shot back, "then you should have been happy when you heard I was getting married. You shouldn’t have lost your mind."
Frustrated and done playing games, Henry stood up from the sofa and turned to walk away.
Elisha moved faster, his hand shooting out to grab Henry’s wrist. "Don’t marry her, Henry."
Henry stopped, his heart pounding as he turned back to glare at him. "Why?"
Elisha looked up at him, his dark eyes filled with panic and stubborn denial. "I... I don’t know."
"Then let me go."
With a sharp jerk, Henry pulled his wrist free from Elisha’s grip, turned his back, and walked upstairs to his bedroom.
Elisha stayed still for a moment, watching him disappear upstairs. Then he hurried after him. "Wait, Henry!"