He regretted it the second it sent.
But it was too late.
Noah's lab results were clear—his condition had worsened, and they needed to act now. The transplant was still out of reach without a donor, but if he didn't start treatment soon, he wouldn't survive long enough to get one.
All Jace needed was money.
But There were no rich relatives. No miracle loans.
Only Elias.
And five minutes later, he replied.
Elias: 9 p.m. tonight. Don't be late.
He attached a location—a penthouse hotel in Gangnam that screamed old money and silence.
No request. No explanation.
Just an order.
—
The ride up to the suite was too smooth, too quiet. Jace's stomach was in knots, his nerves stretched thin.
His reflection in the elevator doors stared back—black shirt, slim trousers, slicked-back hair, the faintest scent of cologne. The cheap kind. But he looked decent enough.
He kept telling himself this wasn't real.
It was a means to an end.
Survive tonight. Secure the money. Then disappear.
The elevator dinged.
And there he was.
Elias Crane opened the door without a word. No guards. No suit this time—just black slacks, bare feet, a white linen shirt that clung slightly to his chest from the shower.
Jace hesitated in the doorway. "You dress like you're not expecting to be told no."
"I don't plan for rejection," Elias said simply, stepping aside to let him in. "Drink?"
Jace walked in slowly, eyes scanning the space—floor-to-ceiling windows, moody lighting, whiskey decanter already waiting.
"Still trying to impress me?" he asked.
"No. I already did that last night."
Elias poured two glasses, handed one to Jace. Their fingers brushed—just enough heat to make the moment crackle.
"Let's be clear about something," Jace said, taking a sip. "I'm not here for games."
Elias studied him. "Then why are you here?"
Jace's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You know why."
"I want to hear you say it."
The air tightened between them. Jace could feel his heart in his throat.
He set the glass down. "Because my brother is dying. And I need money."
Elias didn't blink.
"And you think sleeping with me will solve that?"
"No," Jace said, voice quieter now. "But it'll buy time."
Elias stepped closer. "Do you know how dangerous it is to offer yourself like this?"
"Do you know how insulting it is to pretend I have a choice?"
That stopped Elias.
Jace didn't look away.
"I'm not a toy, Crane. But if you want something… if you want me… you're going to pay for it. Not because I'm weak, but because you're the kind of man who only respects what he buys."
Something flickered in Elias's eyes. Interest. Hunger. Maybe even respect.
He moved in close. "And what do you think I want from you, Jace?"
"I think you want someone who won't break the second you touch them."
"And will you?"
Jace smirked. "Try me."
The tension exploded in that moment—no more clever remarks, no more stalling.
Elias's mouth found his—hot, demanding, unrelenting. Jace gasped against him, not from fear but the heat of it. Hands clutched fabric, pulled, gripped.
Elias tasted like whiskey and control. His mouth moved with the practiced confidence of a man who always took what he wanted.
But Jace didn't just let him.
He fought for dominance—biting back, pulling Elias into him harder, until they were tangled up in a mess of gasps and friction.
Clothes didn't come off. Not yet.
But Elias pushed Jace against the wall, his palm splayed over his chest.
"You're trouble," he whispered, lips brushing Jace's jaw.
"You like trouble."
"I like knowing what it'll cost me."
Jace's breath hitched.
"I'm not cheap," he said.
Elias's fingers curled in his shirt. "No. You're not."
He leaned in again, slower this time, but didn't kiss him. Just hovered—his lips ghosting over Jace's, close enough to feel, far enough to ache.
"Take your shirt off," Elias said, voice like silk over steel.
Jace didn't move.
"Why?" he asked, chin lifted.
Elias's eyes were dark, unreadable. "Because I want to see what I'm paying for."
The heat in the room dropped a few degrees. The words hit differently.
Jace clenched his jaw. "So that's all this is?"
Elias didn't answer.
Jace stepped back, his hands shaking now—not from fear, but from how much of himself he felt slipping away.
"This isn't a deal," he said tightly. "It's a line. And if I cross it, I don't get to come back."
"You knew that before you came here."
Jace's chest rose and fell. He turned toward the elevator door.
"I'll let you know if I'm still for sale," he muttered.
He reached for the button —but Elias spoke again.
"Fifty thousand."
Jace froze.
"I'll transfer it to you tonight," Elias said, calm. "In full. But I want you for a month. No lies. No one else. You're mine."
Jace turned slowly. His throat burned.
"That's not sex," he said. "That's ownership."
"It's business."
Jace presses the button to the elevator door. it opens. "I'll think about it."
Elias poured another drink. "You don't have long."
—
Back at the hospital, Jace slipped inside Noah's room and sat at the edge of the bed.
His little Brother stirred but didn't wake.
Jace stared down at him, eyes stinging.
His phone buzzed.
Elias: My offer stands. But once you say yes, you are mine and you don't get to walk away.