The escape from the reception was executed with military precision. One moment they were surrounded, Victor's hand a firm, special imprint on Elias's lower back. The next, a discreet nod to a security detail had cleared a path, and Victor was guiding him through a hidden panel in the banisters into the hushed silence of a private elevator.
The ascent was swift and silent. Victor didn't say anything, but his eyes, which were dark and burning with an intensity that had been carefully banked for hours, spoke volumes. He pressed Elias against the mirrored wall, one hand braced beside his head and the other splayed across his hip. The cool glass seeped through the fine fabric of Elias's tuxedo jacket, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from the man in front of him.
"Finally," Victor breathed, the word a vow. His gaze dropped to Elias's mouth.
"Impatient," Elias murmured, though his own pulse was hammering in his throat.
