CEO loves me with all his soul.-Chapter 118. Just in case

The heat slowly faded from the air, replaced by the quiet rhythm of two hearts still catching up to each other. freewēbnoveℓ.com

Adrian lay limp against Ethan’s chest, a sheen of sweat cooling on his skin. His breath came slow and soft now, lashes fluttering as he blinked up at the ceiling, dazed. His cheeks were still flushed, lips kiss-bitten and parted slightly, hair a silky mess across the pillow.

Ethan was silent for a moment, simply holding him. His strong arms wrapped around Adrian’s delicate frame, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath Adrian’s cheek.

Then he shifted, gently rolling them onto their sides.

"Stay right there," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Adrian’s temple. "Let me take care of you."

Adrian didn’t protest—just let out a faint hum, the sound of someone safe and warm and loved.

Ethan slid off the bed, naked and unhurried, and padded barefoot into the bathroom. He returned with a warm damp towel and knelt beside the bed. His eyes were soft now, the dark dominance replaced by quiet devotion.

He sat beside Adrian and began to clean him—slow, deliberate, and gentle.

Adrian flushed, shifting shyly, but Ethan caught his wrist and smiled. "Don’t hide from me now. Let me love you like this, too."

Adrian relaxed, closing his eyes as Ethan wiped him clean—his thighs, his stomach, the places marked by pleasure. Ethan was careful, even reverent, as though each touch was a vow.

When he finished, he tossed the towel aside and pulled back the covers. "Come here, sweetheart."

Adrian let Ethan guide him under the sheets, then curled into his arms like it was the only place he’d ever known. Ethan lay back and cradled him, one hand stroking his black hair, the other drawing slow circles on his bare shoulder.

"You always take such good care of me," Adrian murmured, voice hushed in the dark.

"You’re mine to take care of," Ethan said, kissing the top of his head. "No one else touches you. No one else gets this version of you."

"You’re so demanding," Adrian teased softly.

"You like it."

"I do."

A small, sleepy smile played on Adrian’s lips.

Ethan tilted his chin up and kissed him again—slow and deep this time, not urgent, just warm. When they pulled apart, Adrian tucked his head under Ethan’s jaw and let his fingers trace lazy lines on Ethan’s chest.

"I never thought I could love someone like this," Adrian whispered. "With all my fear. All my mess. But you never look at me like I’m broken."

"That’s because you’re not," Ethan said. "You’re everything I ever wanted. You make me human. You make me dangerous."

Adrian laughed softly, muffled against Ethan’s neck. "I think you were already dangerous."

"Then you make me worse. And I’d ruin the world if it meant keeping you."

Adrian lifted his head, met Ethan’s eyes in the dark. "Then we’re both ruined. Because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you."

Ethan cupped his cheek, thumb brushing beneath his eye. "Say it."

Adrian leaned in, their foreheads touching. "I love you."

Ethan smiled—slow, satisfied. "Again."

"I love you."

"And I love you," Ethan said, drawing him close again.

The city outside their window glittered and pulsed, but inside the room, the world had gone quiet. Safe. Sacred.

They lay tangled together under soft sheets, the remnants of passion fading into warmth and trust. And as Adrian finally drifted into sleep, breath even against Ethan’s chest, Ethan stayed awake a while longer—watching him.

Guarding him.

Loving him.

Until the night faded and sleep finally took them both.

-

Room 1507 was dark, save for the pale wash of city lights bleeding through the curtain edges. It was quieter here — no echo of passion, no warmth of candlelight or laughter. Just tension, and the low hum of vigilance that hadn’t let Augustin breathe fully in hours.

He sat at the edge of the bed, still in his half-buttoned shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, knuckles red from the earlier altercation in the club. A single floor lamp cast a halo of amber around him. The rest of the room lay in shadow.

On the screen of his phone, Leclair’s face was pixel-perfect, even at two in the morning.

His dark black hair was slicked back like always, but strands had fallen loose. His black-starry eyes — so like Augustin’s — were focused, sharp. The soft background hum of their home buzzed faintly behind him: a distant clock, the ticking of the wall unit. All normal. All safe.

Except nothing felt safe.

"Still no sign of anything bigger?" Leclair asked.

"No," Augustin said, voice low. He glanced at the closed hotel room door, the one that separated him from Ethan and Adrian. "But something isn’t adding up."

Leclair’s expression sharpened. "Go on."

"I’ve been thinking about Wryn Hudel," Augustin said, pushing a hand through his short brown hair. "The way he behaved tonight. Loud. Drunk. Crude. All that bluster about the waitress, the aggression, the spectacle of it..."

"Intentional?"

"Exactly. A performance." Augustin’s gaze narrowed. "He wanted to be seen. He needed to be noticed."

Leclair leaned forward slightly. "A smoke screen."

"A damn good one," Augustin muttered. "It’s too clean. He plays the part of the aggressive, drunken bastard so perfectly that you almost forget to look past it. But he’s not smart enough to run an operation this clean. He doesn’t have the subtlety to orchestrate kidnapping attempts without leaving a trail."

"So he’s the distraction," Leclair said, golden eyes thoughtful. "Drawing attention while the real predator stalks from the dark."

Augustin nodded. "That’s what I think. Whoever’s actually behind the attempts on Ethan—they’re smart. They don’t come near the scene. They don’t flinch when their decoy gets rattled. Wryn was likely planted to stir things up, to test Ethan’s reactions, and to draw out our attention. Someone’s using him to keep our eyes off the real threat."

Leclair was silent for a moment. His mind moved quickly, Augustin could always see it — behind the still expression, calculating risk and motive like a chessboard laid in blood.

Finally, Leclair said, "That means we let Wryn stay loud. Let him draw attention. We keep up the show, make it seem like we’re chasing him. Meanwhile, we dig deeper. Track shadows. Look for inconsistencies in club staff, delivery patterns, maintenance teams—people who don’t scream villain but come and go freely."

Augustin nodded. "Exactly what I was thinking. Ethan and Adrian need to believe we’re on top of Wryn. But we start watching elsewhere."

Leclair exhaled slowly, his voice dropping. "You’ve been running at full tilt since the first message. Augustin, you need rest."

"I’ll rest when I know they’re safe."

Leclair’s tone darkened with worry. "Love. You haven’t slept properly in two days. You’re on edge. You almost broke that man’s jaw in the bathroom tonight."

"He deserved worse," Augustin muttered, eyes flashing. "He tried to corner me. Thought I was some delicate thing."

Leclair smiled faintly. "You are delicate. Like a grenade."

That earned the smallest smirk from Augustin, but it faded just as fast.

"I can’t sleep knowing someone’s hunting Ethan. And Adrian’s too soft. He always hesitates. They’re strong together, but we know how quickly things go wrong when someone miscalculates."

"I know," Leclair said, his voice softer now. "But Augustin—you being dead on your feet doesn’t help them either. You need to lie down. Close your eyes. Even if you don’t sleep."

Augustin stared at the floor, jaw tight. "I don’t know if I can. I feel like something’s breathing just behind the curtain. I’ve felt it all night."

"I’ll keep watch on the company, track the networks, dig for names. You gave me enough of a thread tonight," Leclair said. "But I need you steady, not unraveling."

A long silence stretched between them.

Then Leclair added, "Please. For me."

Augustin finally stood, his lean body stiff from sitting too long in tension. He crossed to the window and peered through the narrow crack between curtain and glass, the city glittering cold and uncaring below.

Then he turned back to the phone and nodded.

"Fine. I’ll lie down. Thirty minutes. No promises."

"I’ll take it," Leclair said, relief warm in his voice. "You’re no use to me if you’re too tired to pull a trigger."

Augustin smiled again, faint and dark. "You always know how to sweet talk me."

Leclair leaned closer to the screen. "Sleep. I love you."

Augustin’s voice softened. "Love you, too."

The call ended.

He set the phone down, stripped off his shirt, and slid beneath the covers, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The room was silent, the only sound his own breathing and the distant echo of traffic outside.

But even as he closed his eyes, Augustin’s hand stayed under the pillow — fingers wrapped around the cold metal of his concealed gun.

Just in case.

Leclair Hudel had dealt with warlords, sabotage, stock collapses, and coded threats that could shatter entire empires.

But none of them had prepared him for this.

"Seraphina," he said sternly, holding his squirming, squealing niece at arm’s length, "this is the third time you’ve managed to pee mid-change. That’s warfare, not innocence."

She blinked up at him with wide, glittering black eyes—Ethan’s eyes—and giggled.

He sighed.

Next to him on the padded floor mat, Aurelius had rolled himself onto his stomach, diaper half-attached and one foot kicking wildly in victory.

Leclair caught him just in time before he could crawl straight into Seraphina’s open, soiled one.

"Gods above, I run a multi-billion-dollar company, I order men into silence with a single word, and this is the battlefield that finally breaks me?"

In the bassinet, a stuffed elephant stared at him with what he could swear was judgment.

He reached for the pack of wipes with one hand while restraining Aurelius with the other. Seraphina had already twisted herself sideways, trying to grab the tube of ointment like it was a toy. Both were laughing now, like the chaos was the greatest entertainment they’d ever known.

Leclair gritted his teeth. "One of you peed on my shirt. The other tried to crawl into it. I want you to remember this when you’re older and buying me birthday gifts."

Somewhere behind him, the baby monitor crackled.

He knew Augustin would be listening. Watching, probably. Laughing.

"Darling," Leclair muttered under his breath, "you left me alone with them as punishment for working late, didn’t you? You planned this."

He finally wrangled Seraphina into a fresh diaper and lifted her victoriously. "Done. Diapered. You will not defeat me again—"

Aurelius promptly threw his tiny sock at Leclair’s face.

Leclair didn’t even blink. "Challenge accepted."

It took another ten minutes, a bottle of formula, and a baby wipe to the jaw before both twins were cleaned, clothed, and lying back on their shared play mat, cooing innocently like they hadn’t just conducted a joint assault on their uncle’s composure.

Leclair sat back against the wall, exhausted, arms resting over his knees. His shirt was wrinkled and a little damp. His hair was no longer slicked back but curled slightly over his temple. His expression, however, was soft—eyes slightly narrowed, but not with irritation.

"Your fathers would be so smug if they saw me right now," he said dryly. "They’d say something sweet and terribly annoying, like ’They’ve already got you wrapped around their fingers.’"

Seraphina squealed and reached for his hand.

Aurelius, ever the copycat, followed suit, babbling something in baby-speak that could only be translated as: We own you now.

Leclair sighed, shaking his head with a resigned smile.

"I’m ruined," he muttered, lowering his voice as he leaned closer. "But don’t tell anyone. Especially not Augustin. He’ll never let me live this down."

He settled between them, letting Seraphina curl up on his chest while Aurelius found a soft corner of Leclair’s sleeve to gnaw on.

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