CHAPTER 119: CHAPTER 119: BUSY

They freshened up without much fuss, though Elias would have claimed it was only because Victor made the process effortless. A towel was handed before he could ask, warm water was already running, and a shirt was laid out with simple, quiet acts that belied the arrogance the alpha wore like a second skin.

Elias stood at the sink brushing his teeth, glasses perched crookedly on his nose, damp hair curling rebelliously over his forehead. Victor moved behind him, unhurried, straightening the collar of the shirt Elias hadn’t buttoned right, fingers brushing lightly against his mark in the process. It was irritating. It was comforting. Elias let him.

They didn’t talk much. By the time they made their way to the dining room, the morning light had filled the manor’s halls in soft gold. The long table was already set, steam curling from beneath polished silver domes, the air warm with the scent of fresh bread, citrus, and brewed coffee.

Elias sank into his seat with a muttered "finally," the kind of complaint that meant the food looked too good to mock but he’d try anyway. The first plate revealed eggs folded with herbs, roasted vegetables glistening with olive oil, and a small bowl of fruit sliced with mathematical precision.

Victor took the seat beside him instead of across, reaching for his coffee first, movement elegant, as always.

The first bite was halfway to Elias’s mouth when the vibration started. A low hum against the table. Then another. And another.

Victor’s phone, facedown beside his plate, lit up with a relentless cascade of calls and messages. Notifications stacked in neat rows, vibrating with the kind of urgency that made the waitstaff glance at it like it might explode.

Elias glanced at the device over the rim of his glasses, chewing slowly. "You’re popular," he muttered dryly.

Victor’s lips curved, though his crimson eyes stayed on Elias, not the device. "I’m busy."

"Busy," Elias echoed, stabbing a piece of roasted pepper like it had personally offended him. "That’s one word for being hunted by your own company."

Victor finally flipped the phone over, screen flashing with names and titles Elias didn’t need context for: executives, board members, and department heads. The words ’Executive Oversight-Internal Affairs Division’ blazed at the top of one email preview, sharp enough to catch Elias’s eye before the screen dimmed again.

Victor silenced it with a thumbprint, setting the phone neatly to the side as if the chaos inside were nothing more than static. He reached for his fork, unhurried. "They can wait."

Elias arched a brow, unimpressed. "Your entire empire is lighting up your phone like a funeral pyre, and you’re eating eggs."

Victor speared a bite of his own, calm as stone. "Because my omega is eating eggs."

The bond thrummed once, low and insistent, making Elias’s pulse skip despite the irritation twisting through him. He set his fork down with exaggerated care and narrowed his eyes. "That’s not romantic, Victor. That’s pathological."

Victor turned to him then, crimson gaze steady, unblinking. "No," he said softly, almost gently. "That’s just me setting my priorities right."

Elias’s breath caught before he masked it with a scoff. He reached for his coffee, taking a slow sip to hide the heat crawling unwanted into his chest. "...You’re still impossible."

"I didn’t change in centuries; why does that make you think I will in a night?"

"I don’t know, really." Elias paused, savoring the food with a thoughtful expression. "Are you sure it’s ok to ignore them?"

Victor’s fork paused above his plate, but only for a breath. Then he set it down neatly, wiped his mouth with the edge of his napkin, and leaned back in his chair, crimson eyes catching the light. "Ok?" he repeated, as though Elias had said something absurd. "Elias, if I answered every call, half of NumenCorp would think they owned me."

"You’re the one listed under Executive Oversight—Internal Affairs," Elias countered, tone dry but eyes sharp behind his glasses. "That sounds like responsibility to me. Not breakfast with your omega while the board screams at your voicemail."

Victor’s mouth curved, but there was no humor in it, only something darker, steadier. "They scream because they want me. They wait because they know I’ll come on my terms, not theirs. That’s what oversight means. That’s why I sit in that chair, not them."

Elias stirred his coffee, slow, thoughtful, as if weighing whether to push. The fork clinked once against porcelain before he set it down. "You make it sound like ignoring them is a strategy."

"It is." Victor reached for his phone at last, not to read but to flip it face-down again. "If I react, I follow their pace. If I don’t, they adjust to mine. The difference between being obeyed and being managed is that simple."

Elias’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, not quite disbelief. "You’re insufferably smug."

Victor leaned closer, his voice pitched low, only for him. "And you’re the reason I let it ring."

The bond pulsed again, sharper this time, and Elias felt it down to his bones. He looked away, reaching for a slice of bread to cover the flush warming the edges of his composure. "You know," he muttered, tearing the bread in two, "normal people get indigestion when they mix power plays with breakfast."

Victor’s chuckle was low and velvet-dark. "Good thing neither of us is normal."

Victor let the silence stretch a little longer, watching the way Elias buttered the bread with more precision than necessary. Then, with deliberate ease, he asked, "What will you do with your day?"

Elias paused, knife hovering mid-air, and glanced up at him over the rim of his glasses. "You mean between being dressed like a mannequin and dragged into your boardroom wars?"

Victor’s mouth curved. "Between those, yes."

Elias set the knife down, leaning back in his chair with a quiet sigh. "Call Ruo, for one. Ashwin finally handed my phone back, and I’m not wasting that small miracle." His tone softened a fraction, enough to slip past the usual barbs. "She deserves to hear from me, not through secondhand updates."

Victor’s crimson gaze sharpened, though his reply was even. "She will be glad to hear your voice."

Elias gave a small nod, then pushed his glasses higher on his nose. "And after that, I want to work. On my PhD. That thing I was doing before I got pulled into this..." he gestured vaguely between them, the bond, the suits, and the empire vibrating in Victor’s phone, "circus."

Victor’s thumb traced the rim of his cup, eyes steady on him. "So you’ll spend your day speaking to Ruo and burying yourself in equations."

"Equations, models, data, things that don’t try to put me in red socks." Elias’s mouth twitched faintly, almost amused at his own sharpness.

The bond pulsed again, sharp and insistent, like it was echoing the truth neither of them wanted to admit out loud. Elias felt the thrum low in his chest and pressed his palm flat to the table as though anchoring himself.

Victor tilted his head, crimson eyes gleaming. "Good. Do it. And when you’re finished proving the world wrong, come back to me."

Elias arched a brow, lips curving just enough to betray the humor threading through his irritation. "You make it sound like I won’t have a choice."

"You don’t," Victor said softly, indulgent as sin.