21. Liam

Days flowed into a week that melted into two, June into early July, and my magic started to settle. Adam, who'd been trained to control his powers from a young age, taught me how to centre my mind, and whenever I stayed over at his flat, he guided me through a morning meditation that quieted the white noise under my skin.

I stayed over a lot.

Adam's cooking skills wouldn't earn him a Michelin Star anytime soon, but they'd sure improved since that first attempt. In turn, I learned how to make credible cappuccino although the wiggly milk foam leaf was still beyond me. There was actual food in his fridge now, a second pillow on my side of the bed, and a shelf in his wardrobe that belonged to me. My siblings teased me about my city flat; I didn't know what Adam told his family. That he was busy with the Initiative, maybe.

I visited the construction sites nearly every day. It wasn't that I didn't trust the contractors, George, and Gale to do a fine job, but our prototypes were unfamiliar. Beyond my family, only Adam knew them nearly as well as I did. If I'd ever thought he'd earned his position by means of a pretty face and superior people skills, I would have taken it back a hundred times by now. He more than pulled his weight, and when the kinetic tiles suddenly refused to function outside my family's workshop, he and I were up until two in the morning to find a solution before we fell into bed at his flat, tangled and exhausted.

There were notes too. I wasn't a writer, but something about putting a pen to a scrap of paper seemed to appeal to Adam. There was a sweetly wistful element to finding little notes in odd places, about leaving my own for Adam to discover—from his ‘I wish things could be different' that I found under my pillow, to my ‘If they were, I'd want to wake up to your coffee every morning' that I left in his car; from my ‘Can't buy you flowers, but here's a drawing of one. It's a tulip, I think' to his ‘Even in a crowded room, you're the only one I see' that was tucked into a pocket of my jeans.

It felt like we were folding into each other, reality right outside the door while we pretended we could have this.

* * *

"I should take you dancing sometime."

Adam huffed out a laugh as he glanced at me, fading evening light washing out the details of his face. "Like at Archer Summers' annual gala? That would cause a stir."

Ha—right. The two of us waltzing across a polished marble floor while the most distinguished members of our community watched, glasses of champagne held aloft. At least that's how I envisioned the scene. My family had never qualified for an invite before, so my mental picture of Summers' ballroom might be way off.

"More like a club in Soho." I grinned at him across the table, Adam's balcony bathed in the dim purple glow of a spectacular sunset that reflected off our water glasses. "One that's dark enough that no one would recognise us. We could snog on the dance floor and act like we're a normal couple. Maybe fuck in the backseat of your car after—only this time, you don't kick me out once we're done."

Adam didn't reply.

"Hey." I leaned over to touch his wrist, my fingers bumping up against his bracelet. "I'm kidding. You know that, right? I know we can't."

"Yeah, no. I know." He exhaled, shadows in his voice. "It'd be nice, though."

"It would be," I said, careful to keep my tone light. The moment I'd given in to this pull between us, I'd accepted the limitations to what we could be. Public displays of affection were not in the cards.

He fell silent once more, and this time, I left him to his thoughts. I'd learned that sometimes, Adam needed to mull things over for a bit before he was ready to share what went on in his head—unsurprising, perhaps, for someone who'd grown up under the heavy weight of sky-high expectations, perfection being one of them.

"If I could," he started eventually, a low murmur that blended with the incoming city night, "I'd be open about this. About us."

It was the kind of thing he'd normally put into a note. I wondered if the rising darkness out here on his balcony, our figures fading to silhouettes, boosted his courage.

"I know," I said softly and thought about asking him what that meant—us. I'd rewritten my rules for him because the only thing at stake was my pride. If he did the same for me, it would set off a domino chain of knock-on effects.

I was in love with him.

But putting it out there and expecting him to return it wasn't fair. Even if he did, what difference would it make? Fuck, if I had any sense of self-preservation, I'd walk away right now, before I fell any deeper.

"I'm holding you back. It's not—I don't…" He shook his head, frustration edging his tone. "That's not right. I know it's not."

Was this…He wasn't breaking up with me, was he?

"I'm not a victim, Adam." It came out sharper than I intended, and I softened my tone. "I made a choice. It's you."

In the shadows, his lashes were charcoal smudges. "You might eventually come to hate me for it."

"I couldn't hate you if I tried."

A glint of humour warmed his voice. "Could have fooled me."

In spite of the heaviness in the air, the throwback made me smile a little. "Well, yeah. I disliked you, true. But I didn't actually know you then, just what you stood for. You're…" Everything. "You are so fucking beautiful."

Adam ducked his head. "Thank you."

Laughter bounced up to us—a group passing through the garden square below. I listened to it fade before I set both elbows on the table and studied Adam's face, veiled by shadows. "Okay," I began quietly. "Where's all this coming from?"

"I…" Adam paused and drew a breath. "I'm scared of losing you. But I also know I can't hold you back forever because it's not fair."

Something twisted sharply in my gut, might be the bitter taste of reality. I willed it away and got up, walked around the table so I could pull Adam to his feet and into a kiss. He sank into it like he couldn't not, and when I drew him down onto the cool tiles with me, he didn't resist. Our clothes were lost to the night, distant traffic humming in my bones and Adam stretched out under me, his skin gently glowing. I worked my way down his body with my lips and teeth, holding his hips down with one hand as I swallowed his cock, fingers tight around the base. I hoped it would get the message across.

I wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

A nightmare wokeme just as dawn crept up.

They'd become much rarer, perhaps a symptom of my magic settling, but this one ripped me awake just like it ripped through the London of my dream. I opened my eyes, pulse hammering in my throat, as Adam roused in my arms.

"What's wrong?" The words were a blurred mumble, barely intelligible.

"Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep."

Since he didn't protest, rolling over to settle on his other side, I assumed he mostly still was. Ten minutes later, I left for a dawn run through streets that were only just waking up and returned to breakfast, coffee, and Adam's smile, his body still sleep-warm with a pillow crease on one cheek. He was the brightest thing I'd ever seen.

To keep up appearances, he left for the construction site before me. Our first at-scale test of the waste recycling unit would be a nailbiter—we'd gathered enough rubbish from construction activity to feed it through several chutes that already existed, and then, well. Fingers crossed.

I arrived some minutes after Adam and picked my way through the emerging landscape of the commercial area, the morning breeze tugging on my clothes. He was talking with Eleanor, and I hesitated before I decided to approach—he'd told me that the idea of an alliance was slowly taking roots. If I didn't want to leave it all to him, I better make an effort to play nice.

They stood next to the tower. There'd been further delays to it although Adam didn't know the specifics—"not like they ever ask for my input"—but it sure looked impressive. Lush greenery wound around it, pink blossoms dripping colour that was at odds with the naked soil that still dominated the area. Its clear, phallic glass shape glowed with faint residual fire magic that would show at night, interwoven with a transparent spiral that dipped in and out of sight, ready to collect rain and guide it down in playful patterns. A wind sculpture at the top spun slowly with the breeze.

Its magic composition, though? It was a mess. The elements snaked around each other, tendrils whipping at the air. That would take some work.

I joined Adam and Eleanor with a polite smile and a fairly neutral, "Good morning."

"Liam." Eleanor nodded, assessing me with a quick, sharp look. For the first time, it felt like there might be a hint of respect in her tone.

"Eleanor." I nodded back, and by design, it had been a couple of weeks since I'd last seen her. It had seemed best to steer clear of the sharks until my magic steadied. "How are you?"

"Very well. Very well indeed." She pressed her lips together in something that wasn't quite disdain. "I hear you stand ready to deliver on your high claims of unprecedented innovation?"

"We are," I said. "I'm sure there'll be a few glitches here and there, but nothing we won't be able to solve." I felt like a fraud for not mentioning Adam's help, but we'd agreed it was better this way.

"Surprising," Eleanor stated crisply. "I fully expected you to fail."

Lovely.

I glanced at Adam, who widened his eyes at me. Play nice. Right—not the moment to mention that they had yet to deliver on their own claims regarding the energy penis.

"It's an honour to prove you wrong," I told her with the saccharine air of an artificial sweetener. "How are your projects coming along? With everything on track on our side, I've got some capacity if you'd like another opinion on the energy"—I inserted a pause so brief that only Adam would notice—"tower."

And, oops. Playing nice? Ten out of ten points to me.

"How kind of you." Eleanor's tone implied the opposite, yet the note of respect was more discernible now.

"Oh, my pleasure." I shoved both hands into my pockets and strove for a casual statement, nothing that suggested I knew what Adam was trying to do. "The way I see it, we have a shared interest in making this a success. If it is, we'll be working together for years to come. We may come from very different backgrounds, but that shouldn't stand in the way of a fruitful collaboration."

Ah, Christ. I'd aimed for casual and ended up sounding like a politician trying to win key opposition votes. Fortunately, Adam came to my rescue before I could trip over my own tongue some more.

"Well, it's hardly a secret that partnering with you wasn't our first choice." He grinned at me, the way a friend might. "But we've made it work, haven't we?"

"We sure have," I agreed and reminded myself that this was what I'd signed up for. So what if I knew what Adam tasted like, what sounds he made when he was turned on? In public, we were friends—if that.

"I hear your sister will accompany you to the gala tonight?" Eleanor asked, her face a mask of polite interest even as she watched me closely. For what? Oh. Should I imply that Laurie was more than she seemed to make us appear even stronger? I resisted glancing at Adam for cues.

"She will," I said simply.

It was two invitations per family, and after some deliberation, we'd decided that this wasn't the event for me to attend alone. Showing up with my mother or father would send the wrong message, so it was either Jack or Laurie, and between the two of them, she'd be far more comfortable navigating an elitist crowd that sneered behind our backs. ‘What doesn't kill you makes you stronger,' she'd said, and even I had to admit that she'd come a long way since being bullied at school. She was still my little sister, though, even if Cassandra had taken her shopping a week ago. The resulting dress made Laurie look five years older and really quite imposing.

Eleanor made a considering noise. "And will this be her first time attending such a high-profile gathering?"

My expression was perfectly pleasant. "It will be, yes."

"How exciting," Eleanor said.

"Oh, yes." I was Teflon, everything just rolling right off my skin. "She's looking forward to it quite a bit."

"And you aren't worried she might find it…" A delicate pause. "Overwhelming to be surrounded by so many powerful mages?"

"Thank you for the concern." I let my mouth curl into a smile. "But my sister can hold her own, and of course I'll be there with her. And I hear both Adam"—my gaze flicked to him—"and Gale will be there too, so that's at least two friendly faces."

According to Adam, Gale had been ordered to attend. Apparently, it had been a while since he had last shown up at a social event, and Benedict Harrington felt his absence might be read as an admission of weakness. ‘Social chess,' was what Adam had called it. ‘Everything is moves and countermoves.' I'd told him it seemed more like an instance of medieval jousting, where the longest lance held the biggest sway. ‘Not everything is about dick size,' he'd replied, and I'd kissed the laugh right off his lips.

"I expect it will be a perfectly pleasant atmosphere." Adam stood very upright, his head tilted at a proud angle—a practised projection of confidence, as though his aunt's mere presence triggered an automatic straightening of his back. "No one would cross Archer Summers on her home turf."

"I suppose that's true." Eleanor's voice told me she wasn't a fan. Now there was a surprise—not. Many of the most powerful families still longed for the good old days when they'd been free to do as they pleased. "Now, I should get going. Adam." She bestowed a nod upon him, then turned to me with a slight arch of her eyebrows. "Liam, always a pleasure."

"It's all mine, I assure you."

Adam and I watched her stride off as though it was a red carpet rather than a construction site, people dashing out of her way.

"A pleasure?" Adam echoed wryly, mouth curving up on one side.

"She is formidable, I'll give her that." I tossed him a smile. "No match for Archer Summers, though."

"You've got a weirdly sweet crush on her."

"She's an advocate of the little people like me."

The other side of Adam's mouth tugged up too. "You're hardly little."

"Such flattery." I fanned some air at myself. "Now, anyway—let's get this party started."

Adam pursed his mouth. "There's a song about that, isn't there?"

"More than one, I'm sure."

"I mean the one by Max Fina. Something about grabbing a drink to look like you belong, dance floor's a battlefield."

I hit an invisible buzzer. "Cocktail Camouflage."

"That's the one." Adam's expression twisted into something halfway between rueful and amused, the grey-tinged sky making his hair appear even darker than usual. "You know, when I was younger, I used to listen to music when I did my whole…wrecking ball impersonation."

"You did?" I could see it—teenage Adam with a chip on his shoulder and enough angst to rival a Shakespearean tragedy. "Like…what's that Velvet Haze song—Light It All Up?"

"Cinders of a Faded Anthem. And yes, exactly like that." His laugh curled like translucent smoke. "I was a proper git."

I feigned surprise. "Past tense?"

"Please, you think I'm awesome."

"I kind of do," I said, perhaps more honest than I should be. It was worth it for the way his expression brightened, the curve of his mouth softening into something almost shy as he met my eyes.

We weren't alone—workers moving around us, the contractor talking loudly on his phone, and security cameras covering every inch of the area. I almost reached out anyway, stopped myself at the last second, and tugged on the hem of my T-shirt instead.

Adam's chin dipped down as he glanced away.

* * *

‘Looking forward to seeing you all sleek and perfect and untouchable in one of your designer suits.'

For once, it wasn't a note I hid in some random place for Adam to find but something I typed out on my phone while I got dressed for the gala. I'd be wearing a new suit I'd bought after he'd hassled me for days because apparently, it wasn't enough to be a Sun—I needed to look the part, too.

‘You'll like this one,' he replied. ‘I only got it so you can take it off me later.'

I fought to wipe a stupid grin off my face and didn't succeed. ‘Then I'm looking forward to that even more.'

‘Same.' It took a minute, then he followed it up with another message. ‘How long do we have to stay before you take me home?'

‘You're the expert. But I'm pretty sure the answer is: too long.'

‘Sounds about right.' Three little dots signalled that he was still typing. Then they disappeared. I waited for a minute, and when nothing else came, I finished getting dressed and went to collect Laurie.

Time to swim with some rich and beautiful sharks.