Chapter 28 – Unspoken Tensions

As the night wound down, the warmth of Taro's home lingered in the air. Plates were cleared, laughter softened, and casual conversations began to fade. Yet, amidst the gentle hum of farewells, one presence remained sharp—Rylan's.

He stood with an air of effortless authority, his tailored suit still pristine, not a single crease out of place. Even in the relaxed setting of Taro's middle-class home, he commanded attention, though his true focus was singular.

As he reached into his coat, he pulled out a set of invitations—elegant, embossed with his insignia, a stark contrast to the homely surroundings.

"Before we part ways, I wanted to formally invite you all to my upcoming exhibition," Rylan announced, his voice smooth, rich, and laced with something undeniably deliberate.

Taro, ever eager to please, took his invitation with enthusiasm. "Sir, this is amazing! I've heard about your past exhibitions, but I never thought I'd get to attend one myself." His excitement was genuine, oblivious to the silent storm brewing between the other two men in the room.

Rylan handed the next invitation to Elian.

Elian accepted it with careful precision, fingers barely brushing against Rylan's. But even that fleeting contact sent a whisper of something unwanted crawling up his spine.

"I expect you to be there," Rylan said, his words casual, but the way he said them was anything but.

Elian met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "I appreciate the invitation," he replied, voice smooth, offering nothing more.

Yet, Rylan didn't look away.

His eyes drank in every detail—the sharp emerald-green of Elian's irises, the delicate curve of his lips, the way the dim lighting cast soft shadows along his jawline. It was artistry in motion, perfection without effort.

And it was his.

Even if Elian refused to acknowledge it.

Elian, for his part, remained composed. He felt the weight of that stare, the slow unraveling of boundaries through Rylan's unwavering gaze, but he refused to shift under it.

Instead, he diverted his attention, smoothly turning back to Taro's family, engaging them with idle conversation—a silent dismissal of Rylan's presence.

But Rylan was patient. Always patient.

As the guests prepared to leave, Taro walked them to the door, still basking in the glow of his successful night. "Thank you all for coming. It really means a lot."

Rylan's lips curled at the edges, but his attention never wavered. It remained locked on Elian.

"I look forward to seeing you at the exhibition," he said, voice laced with something dark, something possessive.

Elian's fingers twitched around the invitation in his hands. He lifted his gaze one last time, meeting the fire with ice.

"We'll see."

A vague answer. Not a yes. Not a no.

And that alone made Rylan's smirk deepen.

Elian turned, stepping out into the cool night air. But even as he walked away, he could still feel it.

That gaze. That unrelenting claim.

He exhaled, slow and steady, pushing down the lingering unease in his chest. He had walked away tonight. But he knew, deep down—

He hadn't escaped.

Not yet.

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