Elias' POV

I can't remember the last time me and my friends went bar hopping, but the one we're at now must be popular because it's jam-packed.

The bartender, George, has been making eyes at me since I arrived. I'm ashamed to admit I've entertained it only because of the shitty mood I'm in. I swear if they play this song one more time... The bass from the speakers thumps in my chest as I slouch over the bar, taking another long swig of beer.

I rarely do this sort of thing—get drunk and drown my sorrows in alcohol—and I grimace at the bitter aftertaste but keep drinking anyway, hoping the alcohol dulls the disappointment gnawing at my insides.

"Hey, gorgeous." George, with his mysterious vibe and sexy tattoos, interrupts my thoughts. He points at the nearly empty bottle in my hand. "Need another one?"

"He's good. Thanks." Kahlan says, snatching the bottle away from me. "Three is enough for you," he says, speaking to me like I'm a child. "No more."

"What the hell, man?" I protest, making a feeble swipe to grab it back. "I thought we came here to drink and complain about our problems. Why are you being a downer?"

"Because I've let you be sad and act a fool long enough. Time to sober up." Kahlan slides a water bottle in front of me. I look at it and frown. "Listen, I know it feels like things aren't going your way right now—"

"They aren't," I grumble, staring off into space. "Literally nothing is going my way and I'm miserable."

"While that may be true," he continues patiently, "it's also not the end of the world. You will find another building, Elias. You will open another shop one day."

"¡Ánimo!" Perry chimes in with a sympathetic smile. "Because you look ugly when you're sad."

"Wow. Thanks for the kind words." I laugh and roll my eyes before taking a few sips of water.

This day went to hell after I spoke with Phil this morning.

Even though we hadn't been talking for long, he knew how badly I wanted his building for my second shop. So when he called this morning to tell me he had sold it to someone who offered him cash upfront...I was nothing short of devastated.

All that work I spent finding the ideal location, negotiating the price, and interviewing candidates got tossed out the window just like that. I'd been riding high since I found that damn building, and then all my plans came crashing down after just one phone call.

Of course, my first instinct was to reach out to Clark and unload my frustrations on him. He's always been a good listener when he wanted to be. But after thinking about it some more, I decided against it.

Our "relationship" is complicated enough. I shouldn't make it more personal.

"Have you spoken with Clark yet?" Kahlan asks, scooting his stool closer to mine as the sounds grow louder in the bar. "Is there nothing he can do?"

"I haven't talked to him, so he doesn't even know." I sigh, not wanting to think about involving Clark. "I can't tell him. He's got enough on his plate. We both do."

"Okay, and? You two are in a relationship that you're both getting something out of, which means he should know when things aren't going great for you."

"You forget it's not an actual relationship," I mumble, tracing a finger through the design on the bar.

This whole thing with Clark was supposed to be uncomplicated and beneficial for both of us. But somewhere along the rocky path, lines blurred, and feelings got entangled. Even more so after we had sex.

"I know it's not real," Kahlan lowers his voice. "But you've been together for a hot minute, and I know you both care about each other. Surely, he knows someone who can help you out. The man's a damn billionaire, Elias. You have options here."

Kahlan is right. Part of me wants to confide in Clark. But a bigger part of me is afraid to tip the boat any further when things already feel shaky between us.

Neither Kahlan nor Perry know that Clark and I are fucking. I hate overthinking it, but I want to say that's when things started getting weird between us, and it's why I don't want to bother him about the shop thing.

And by acting weird, I mean he's been staying at the office more and more. When he finally does come home, it's past midnight and I'm in bed, so we have no time to talk and catch up. Our texts have since dwindled to one and two word responses. It sucks.

There's obviously something going on with him. It's too bad I don't have the guts to ask, and he isn't willing to offer any explanations.

Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I'm tempted to call my parents and see if I can crash with them until my neighborhood gets the power back on.

Maybe it's for the best. This little fantasy I've been living in wasn't going to last forever.

A sudden tap on my shoulder jerks me out of my head and back to reality.

I turn around in my seat to find Noah Martin staring at me with a blinding smile. He's the last person I expected to see here, the guy who almost became my righthand at shop number two if only things had gone my way.

"Hey, Noah!" My voice is steadier than I feel. "What are you doing here?"

"Just hanging out with friends." He nods over to a lively table. "I spotted you and thought I'd say hi."

I take a quick glance at Kahlan and Perry. They aren't fooling anyone with their fake ass conversation, their grins betraying their eavesdropping. I ignore them, focusing on Noah.

I force a smile. "Well, that was nice of you."

"Yeah. Of course." He studies me with an intensity that makes me self-conscious about what my drunken face must be revealing. "Sorry if I caught you at a bad time," he says afterward. "I just figured I'd be polite..."

"No, you're good! I promise." I wave away his concern with a loose gesture, the alcohol making my movements languid. "I've just...been having a day. But it was really nice to see you again. You mentioned in your interview that you live around here, right?"

"I do." He nods, smiling again. "Actually—" One of his friends shouts his name, mentioning something about food. "Sorry, they're wasted. I'd better go before one starts trouble. It was great seeing you again, Elias."

"You as well. Have a good night."

After he walks off, Perry perks up. "Is that competition I smell?"

"I don't know." Kahlan looks at me, smirking. "Is it?"

"I hate you both." After drinking the rest of my water, I stand up, swaying slightly on my feet. "I'm gonna head out since Kay refuses to let me drink my face off."

"Trust me, your body will thank you in the morning," he says.

They stick with me until I'm safely in the back of an Uber. After that, the ride back to Clark's house is a blur.

When his sprawling mansion eventually comes into view, I spot his car in the driveway. He's here. It's enough to send a wave of anxiety coursing through me.

I pay the driver and then stumble through the front door after spending five minutes looking for the key Clark let me hold. I almost take down the coat rack once I'm inside. I've barely taken ten steps when I hear movement to my right.

Seconds later, Clark appears, and my dick awakens.

He's shirtless and looking unfairly sexy in a pair of low-slung sweatpants. His tired eyes widen as he looks me over from head to toe. I shift self-consciously.

"Are you drunk?" he asks, amused.

"Um..." I sway slightly on my feet as I fail to take a confident step forward. "A little."

"A little?" A slow smile spreads across his face, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You sure about that?"

"Okay! More than a little." I huff out a breath, too tired and emotionally drained to argue.

"Here." Clark closes the distance between us, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back as he guides me toward the stairs. "Let me help you to your room."

I nod and keep quiet out of fear of saying the wrong thing, thanks to my growing erection.

Once inside my bedroom, I collapse onto the plush mattress with a groan. "God, I love this bed."

"Rough day?" Clark sits beside me, reaching over to switch on the lamp on the nightstand. In the soft light, I can see the concern still lingering in his eyes. "You can talk to me about anything. I'm happy to listen."

Immediately, the events of the day come rushing back.

Before I can stop myself, I'm spilling my thoughts to Clark, telling him everything that happened with Phil and how hopeless the future feels. He listens thoughtfully, only speaking when I'm finished drunk rambling.

"I'm so sorry, Elias." He squeezes my hand. "We'll figure something out together. You know I don't mind helping out. All you have to do is ask."

I blink up at him, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. "But you've done so much for me already."

"You really have to stop saying that," he chuckles, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my skin. "You're important to me, Elias. I want to see you succeed no matter what, so if you need my help, I'm here. Always."

Overwhelmed with gratitude and something else I can't quite pinpoint, I lace our fingers together. He doesn't pull away, so I ask, "Are you okay, Clark?"

He blinks, confused. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you've been acting weird ever since we...you know," I whisper, the alcohol making me bold. "Ever since we started having sex. It has me wondering if I said or did something wrong—"

Before I can finish the thought, Clark leans down and captures my lips in a kiss that, had I been sober, makes me want to strip him naked and fuck him.

"Elias." He breaks the kiss far too soon, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. "Please hear me when I say you've done absolutely nothing wrong."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

"You can share things with me, you know. I'm here for you too," I whisper against his mouth, words muffled by another kiss. "Whatever you need. I mean it."

"I..."

For a second, I think he might actually open up to me. But then he sighs, and the walls come slamming back down. He gives me a tight smile, eyes darkening as he pulls his hand away from mine.

"I know. And I appreciate that. But really, I'm fine." He leans in for another quick kiss, then moves off the bed. "Sorry to cut this short, but I have food on the stove. You hungry?"

I shake my head, sitting up slowly as the room spins around me. "I'm gonna jump in the shower and then call it a night. See you in the morning."

"Bright and early."

Clark leaves without another word, and I flop back against the pillows with a sigh. My head is buzzing from the alcohol and the lingering heat of Clark's touch, but beneath it all is a growing sense of unease.

Something is definitely wrong with him. But if I'm not the problem, then who the hell is?