Page 31

Everything runs like silk these days. Dennis can't remember the last time he felt this content, and Chris's effortless smiles suggest he feels the same.

Nothing seems out of place until one late August evening. Sacramento's heat still lingers, but the shadows stretch longer now, painting the site in amber and gold as they finish another marathon day.

"Inspection went perfectly." Chris looks for the keys to lock the office door while Dennis gathers his things. "Dinner?" They take the stairs down to the main entrance, grateful to stretch their legs after hours of sitting.

"Anywhere's fine, I'm easy."

"Grotto's?"

"Ugh, no. Too crowded on weeknights."

"That new Thai place?"

"They use MSG."

"Sushi?"

"You choose, I really don't have an opinion."

Chris smacks his ass. Dennis hip-checks him so hard he nearly brains himself on the main entrance, both of them dissolving into laughter.

Their amusement dies when they step outside. Instead of finding just the Lexus in its usual lonely spot, they spot a black Maybach SUV idling in the lot, its windows tinted darker than legal.

Dennis would recognize his father's car anywhere.

The passenger door opens. His father's assistant emerges, circling to the driver's side before opening the rear door with practiced efficiency. He meets Dennis’s eyes with a pointed smile.

If Dennis wasn't used to his father's dramatic interventions, he'd find this creepier than it already is.

He glances up at Chris with a warm smile. Their arms brush as he says, "Wait for me in the car?"

"Take your time, princess." Chris squeezes his hip before heading to the Lexus.

Inside, the SUV's rear seats face each other like a mobile boardroom—his father's preferred setup, because heaven forbid he waste five minutes away from work.

His father sits there in his three-piece suit, one leg crossed over the other, studying files from a manila folder. He doesn't acknowledge Dennis’s presence.

"You didn't have to come all the way here," Dennis says, settling into the opposite seat.

His father doesn't look up. "I wouldn't have if you answered your phone."

"I've been busy."

"Busy spending all the investors' money." His father's tone could stop a heart mid-beat.

"But it's working." Dennis keeps his voice steady despite the familiar sting.

"Which is why we're holding a preview gala for them. Keep them happy with project updates." His father finally looks up, gaze cutting. "We should also look for more investors if material invoices are going to come with more than six zeros on them. I'm sure you'll handle that."

Ah, so it's important. Not that it matters—even good news makes his father frown. But nothing can dim Dennis’s mood lately. This project will make his father proud, he can feel it.

"The governor's attending," his father switches to Korean, like he always does for serious matters. "Along with every major developer in Northern California."

Oh. It really IS important.

"When's the gala?"

"Two weeks from now. And I'm expecting you to have a presentation ready with data and graphs for the investors." His father peers at him over his glasses. "ROI projections, profit margins, market forecasts—things that matter. I don't want any of that design and dreams nonsense." He returns to his files.

Dennis keeps his gaze forward. Any other day, he'd bristle at his father's dismissal and these sudden demands, but he refuses to let anything spoil his good mood.

"'K. Anything else?"

His father stares him down. "Your mother is leaving tomorrow. Make sure to come say goodbye."

His mother's stayed longer this visit, and as grouchy as his father is, he seems almost... pleasant. The signs are subtle—Dennis’s head is still attached to his shoulders, and he hasn't been frozen solid yet. But his father's barely mentioned the missed calls, content to let Jason handle the day-to-day reports, probably mellowed by his wife's tranquil presence.

Love really does change people.

"Got it." Dennis softens a bit. Feeling generous in his good mood, even though he knows he'll regret it: "Let me know if you want to do anything before she goes."

His father nods without looking up.

Dennis is pleased. This went surprisingly well. He pats his thighs, the sound final. "If that's all, goodnight then."

"Mmm."

He steps out of the SUV and heads straight for Chris, who's already getting out to open his door. Dennis doesn't care if anyone—including his father—sees.

Love makes you brave. Or maybe just reckless.

"What was that about?" Chris asks once they're driving.

"Just admin stuff." Dennis waves it off. "Some gala we have to do."

The following days find Dennis working on the presentation at Chris's apartment—his own home office feels too quiet now. Luckily, Chris helps with both the data analysis and stress relief, which becomes especially crucial when his father sends a script to memorize by heart that Sunday.

"Dad, this doesn't sound anything like our project," Dennis says through the phone. "Did you even read what we're doing here?"

"Dennis." His father's voice carries that razor edge. "For once, just smile and do as you're told."

"This is so fucking stupid." Dennis complains later. He jabs his finger at the printed pages, brandishing them like evidence.

"Hang on, babe—" Chris winces. "Hey, hey, easy—you're going to snap my dick off."

They're on the mattress, Chris sitting cross-legged with his arms braced behind him, Dennis straddling his lap. Papers litter the floor beside them, remnants of more unpaid overtime. Sometimes Dennis wonders why Chris puts up with him at all.

"Sorry." Dennis rolls his hips, trying to loosen around Chris's cock. Runs apologetic fingers through his hair. "But listen to this: 'The bamboo supports demonstrate traditional construction values while maintaining cost-effective implementation.' It's just empty corporate bullshit! Nothing about how we're actually revolutionizing the industry!"

"Screw it," Chris shrugs, eyes already fixed on Dennis’s chest. "We'll just change it?" He wraps his arms around Dennis’s back, nudging the script away with his face. "Move, you're blocking me."

Dennis moves the papers out of the way, still grumbling.

Chris brightens up. He roots around Dennis’s chest until he finds a nipple to suckle with a contented sigh. It's been a long day for everyone.

Dennis strokes Chris's hair absently, still frowning at the script while he grinds on Chris's cock, enjoying the fullness as Chris takes his break.

This isn't really about the ceremony. It's about keeping everyone happy, including his father. Most investors wouldn't know sustainable construction from a hole in the ground anyway.

"Nah." Dennis sighs. "This is just for show. A party with free food and overpriced champagne where people make small talk about golf and portfolios. They're not here to see how innovative the pavilion actually is."

Chris pulls off his nipple, brows drawing together. "You know the crew and I stayed because your way is the future, right? Not just some pipe dream, but where the real money's heading. The whole industry's going to follow you there."

Dennis notices the concern in his expression.

"I might give you shit, and we don't agree on most things—" Chris starts.

"Anything," Dennis corrects.

"Anything," Chris chuckles, "but only because your load calculations are always wrong."

"Except for the north plaza foundation."

"Fine, I'll give you that."

"And the rainwater system. AND the solar panel supports."

"Princess, that's beside the point."

"Of course it is. It's always beside the point when you're losing."

Chris bites his pec, sucking hard enough to make him yelp.

Dennis whacks him with the script. "Baby!"

Chris laughs, licking the mark before kissing it better. "Shush. What I mean is, all these old-school CEOs are too stuck in their ways to see the profit potential. You're building something revolutionary while they're still counting yesterday's money. If your dad could pull his head out of his ass for five minutes, he'd see what you're worth."

Dennis melts a little inside. "I don't really mind. Having one person believe in it is enough. Especially when that one person is you." He leans down for a kiss that Chris deepens, pulling him closer.

Dennis pulls back just enough to speak. "Will you come with me?"

"What, be your arm candy?" Chris's face breaks into that cocky grin Dennis pretends to hate.

Dennis traces Chris's ear, grinning down at his rugged features and clever eyes. "You're my site manager. You know the construction better than anyone. In case they have questions about implementation costs or structural innovations—please?"

Chris hesitates. His expression clouds for just a moment.

"I need you there," Dennis says quietly.

Chris sighs when Dennis’s smile turns extra bright, eyes crinkling at the corners. He never could resist that look.

"Whatever you want, princess. But I'm not wearing a fucking tux."