Chapter 4: Dust and Disgust
If Kael had to rank the rooms in the penthouse by how much they made him uncomfortable, the library would have come in dead last.
Which said a lot, considering the apartment had a bathroom bigger than his childhood kitchen.
The library was warm in a way the rest of the place wasn't. Dark wood shelves climbed the walls all the way up to the ceiling, packed tightly with books of every size and color. Some looked old and fragile, others shiny and untouched, like decorative props bought in bulk. The air smelled like paper and polish instead of money and cold marble.
It almost felt… normal.
Which was probably why Jaxen had assigned him to it.
"Organize them by genre, then alphabetically," Jaxen had said the night before, already halfway down the hall. "Don't mix first editions with the modern prints. And don't bend the spines."
Then he'd disappeared into his bedroom like a king retreating to his chamber, leaving Kael alone with a rolling ladder and what felt like every book ever printed.
Now it was morning. Or late morning. Time worked differently up here.
Kael stood halfway up the ladder, balancing carefully as he wiped dust off a thick encyclopedia that looked like it hadn't been touched since the internet was invented. He sneezed quietly, then frowned at the cloth in his hand.
"Wow," he muttered to himself. "So this is what rich people do. Buy knowledge and never use it."
He slid the book back into place, squinting at the label on the shelf.
History. European. Pre-Industrial.
Who even decided these categories?
Kael reached for the next book when a sound drifted through the quiet space.
Laughter.
He froze.
It wasn't Jaxen's laugh. Jaxen didn't laugh like that. Jaxen's laugh was low and sharp and usually meant someone else was about to have a bad day.
This laugh was lighter. Higher. A little breathless.
Flirty.
Kael's stomach did an uncomfortable little flip.
Slowly, he leaned forward and looked over the railing of the second-floor balcony that wrapped around the library. From here, he could see the hallway that led to the master suite.
The bedroom door opened.
A guy stepped out.
He was blond, maybe a few years older than Kael, with sleep-mussed hair and a lazy smile that said he'd had a very good night. He wore a shirt that was definitely too big for him—dark, expensive, and hanging off one shoulder.
Kael recognized it immediately.
Jaxen's.
Behind him, Jaxen leaned against the doorframe, shirtless, looking entirely too awake for someone who had clearly not slept alone. His hair was a mess, his expression bored, like this was just another item on his to-do list.
"The driver's downstairs," Jaxen said. His voice was rough, like gravel. Not warm. Not affectionate. Efficient.
The blond guy smiled wider. "Text me later?"
He reached out, fingers brushing Jaxen's chest.
Jaxen caught his wrist mid-motion.
"Don't make it weird, Leo," Jaxen said calmly. "You had fun. That's enough."
The smile slipped.
"Oh. Right. Yeah. Of course." The guy nodded quickly, clearly embarrassed, and backed away like he'd just remembered he left the stove on.
He didn't look up again as he hurried toward the elevator.
Kael stared.
Of all the names in the world.
Leo.
His jaw tightened.
His brother Leo, who was at home stressing over classes and bills and trying to be better. His brother Leo, who would apologize if he bumped into a stranger. And here was this guy, sharing the name, getting tossed out of a billionaire's bed before breakfast like yesterday's takeout.
Something ugly twisted in Kael's chest.
He gripped the ladder harder than necessary.
He's disgusting, Kael thought. Absolutely disgusting.
As if summoned by pure irritation, Jaxen tilted his head and looked up.
Their eyes met.
Jaxen didn't flinch. Didn't look caught. Didn't even look mildly ashamed.
He smirked.
"Well," he called up, voice echoing slightly in the high ceiling. "This is awkward. I didn't realize I had an audience."
Kael's face burned.
He climbed down the ladder a little too fast, nearly missing a rung, and stomped to the railing.
"I was working," Kael snapped. "Some of us actually do that."
Jaxen crossed his arms. "Watching people leave my bedroom counts now?"
"Does your contract include me having to witness your morning trash pickup?" Kael shot back.
The smirk vanished.
Jaxen's eyes darkened, and without another word, he turned and headed for the stairs.
Kael's heartbeat picked up.
Every step Jaxen took felt heavy, deliberate. Like he was climbing toward a confrontation he'd already won. Kael told himself to back away. To go back to the ladder. To shut up.
Instead, he stayed exactly where he was.
Stubborn. Always.
Jaxen reached the top of the stairs and stopped just a few inches away. He still hadn't put on a shirt, which felt unfair and intentional. Kael could smell him now—clean soap, something sharp and expensive underneath.
"You're overstepping," Jaxen said quietly.
"I'm organizing books," Kael said. "You're the one turning the place into a revolving door."
Jaxen leaned in, their noses almost touching. "What I do in my bedroom isn't your concern. Unless—" His gaze flicked briefly to Kael's mouth. "—you're jealous."
Kael let out a sharp laugh. "Please. I'd rather lick the library floor."
"Careful," Jaxen said dryly. "That marble costs more than your rent."
Kael scowled.
Jaxen reached out and brushed a speck of dust from Kael's shoulder. His fingers lingered just a second too long.
"Lunch is at one," Jaxen said. "My father will be here."
Kael stiffened. "Your father?"
"Yes. The man funding this entire arrangement." Jaxen's eyes hardened. "If you look at him the way you're looking at me, the deal is off."
He stepped back and turned away, already done with the conversation.
"Finish the library," he added over his shoulder.
Then he was gone.
Kael stood there for a long moment, chest tight, hands shaking—not from fear, but from the overwhelming urge to throw a book at something expensive.
Eventually, he went back to the ladder.
He grabbed another book at random.
Etiquette Through the Ages.
Kael snorted.
"Oh, the irony," he muttered.
As he worked, he tried not to think about Jaxen's father. Or the blond guy. Or the way Jaxen's fingers had lingered like they had every right to be there.
By the time the clock hit one, Kael was dusty, annoyed, and starving.
At least the library looked amazing.
He dusted off his hands and muttered, "finally a proper arrangement, you are welcome " before heading downstairs.