Page 86 of Amid Our Lines

“At the top of the main building,” Adrian supplied even though Lucas hadn’t asked him. “Would you just excuse Eric and me for one second? Also, can I offer you anything—coffee, tea? Water?”

Did the likes of Max Fina and Lucas drink water, or should Adrian have offered champagne? Not that they even had champagne, just quality sparkling wine, but... God, he hated feeling out of his depth.

“Tea would be great. Darjeeling, if you’ve got it?” Lucas again, who seemed to be the more talkative one of the two. Max didn’t seem unfriendly, just reserved, and Adrian doubted it had anything to do with ErosElite.

“Anything for you?” he asked the photographer and Rajen. Which—bodyguard. Rajen was a bloodybodyguard.

Right.

“Nothing for me.” The photographer glanced up from her camera long enough to send Adrian an appreciative nod. Rajen, for his part, looked surprised, then pleased.

“Tea as well, thanks.”

“Coming right up.” Adrian closed his fingers around Eric’s wrist todraw him along, back towards the kitchen. As soon as they were out of sight, Adrian turned and planted his feet. “Okay, so, a little warning would have been nice.”

Eric rubbed the back of his neck, glancing up at Adrian through his lashes. “I wasn’t sure it was really going to happen.”

“How do you even know them?” The moment it was out, Adrian realised the answer—the cautious tilt of Lucas’s smile, the way Eric’s voice had gone soft on Lucas’s name.

“Lucas and I dated for about six months.” Eric hesitated, glancing back towards the reception area. “It’s been a while, though. Over a year ago.”

And there it was.

Fuck, was this what jealousy felt like? A drunken lurch of Adrian’s stomach, the ground rolling under his feet? He dragged in a breath. “Okay. So Lucas—he’s the guy who was in love with someone else?”

A tiny grin quirked the corners of Eric’s mouth. “Three guesses as to whom, and the first two don’t count.”

“And they’re here to…?”

“Take a few pictures that confirm they’re dating. While doing some bonus publicity for the Gletscherhaus.”

Adrian had about a million questions, most of them about how much Eric still felt for Lucas. They would have to wait until later, though—if Adrian even dared to ask.

“We will talk about this,” he told Eric. “Like, about how you know people like that and whether you...” He trailed off because wait, what did that mean in terms of who Ericwas? Would a lowly songwriter be dating someone like Lucas? Would he be moving in the kinds of circles that brushed elbows with the likes of Max Fina? “We’ll talk about this,” Adrian repeated, and Eric flashed him a smile that managed to blend apprehension with fondness.

“I expected no less.”

Adrian nodded, suddenly unsure about whether to touch Eric or not. It wasn’t like he’d abruptly lost permission, was it? So he reached out to trace a line down Eric’s upper arm. “Thank you. I get that you’re trying to help, and I appreciate it.”

Eric’s smile changed, softened. “Of course.”

Of course.

It eased the pressure in Adrian’s stomach, if only by a margin. “Okay, let’s get these people some tea. We’ll talk later.”

“Yeah. Just…” Eric fell silent, studying Adrian for a second before he swayed forward to brush their mouths together. When he pulled back, his eyes were serious. “I really want to help.”

Adrian swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “I know,” he said softly, and he did. He just wasn’t sure what it meant.

15

The photographer took about thirteen million pictures outside, all designed to look like they were lucky shots—Lucas and Max climbing out of a black van with tinted windows, turning towards each other in a way that betrayed a level of intimacy beyond friendship. They stepped out of the frame for a few sips of hot tea, then moved back into position for photos that showed them kissing against the backdrop of sun and snow and the Belle-Epoque facade of the Gletscherhaus.

Lucas had changed. When Eric had known him, he’d been sweet and blindingly talented, but his confidence had been shaky. Not anymore. It wasn’t arrogance, but there was a newfound poise to him, quiet self-assurance in how easily he handled the photographer’s requests.

He seemed happy.

And Eric was glad to see it. Any bitterness he might have felt at one point had faded to a muted sense of nostalgia. In hindsight, they hadn’t brought out the best in each other. They hadn’t loved each other either—funny how obvious it was now, a year down the line.

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