The ride back to the office was a mirror of the one that morning, but the mood had shifted. Victor lounged in his seat, jacket off now, one arm draped along the backrest behind Elias as if the space belonged to him. Elias sat angled toward him, tablet forgotten on his lap, a new diet coke sweating in his hand like a prop he'd stopped noticing.
Across from them, Ashwin stared out the opposite window with the air of a man regretting every life choice that had led him here. He'd been the one pushing Elias to open up, to stop circling Victor like a cat around a bathtub. Now he was stuck in a moving box with the result: soft looks, low voices, and Victor's thumb idly brushing the back of Elias's hand as if it had a mind of its own. Third wheel didn't even cover it.
Elias ignored the bodyguard's suffering and leaned back against the seat, eyes glinting with mischief. "All right," he said, "twenty questions."
Victor's brows lifted, amused. "You're going to start now?"
