Chapter 254: Chapter 254: Jealousy and order (Win – Win)

“You slept with Ethan?” Dax repeated, calmly enough that it might have passed for curiosity to anyone who did not know him.

Chris froze, realizing he had misjudged the direction of a conversation entirely. He turned his head slowly, really looking at Dax now, and caught the tightness in his jaw, the way his gaze had gone unreadable rather than sharp.

“What?” Chris said. “No. Gods, no.”

Dax exhaled through his nose, controlled, but the tension did not fully leave his shoulders. His thumb, which had been resting idle against Chris’s side, resumed a slow, grounding motion, as if reminding himself where Chris was.

“You stayed with him,” Dax said. “He stayed with you. You speak of it casually.”

Chris blinked once, then twice, and something like understanding crept in. “…You’re jealous.”

“I am aware,” Dax replied evenly.

That earned him a soft, incredulous huff from Chris. “Ethan is my friend. We worked together for years. Half the time we were too exhausted to remember eating, let alone…”

He stopped because Dax’s arm had tightened, not painfully, but enough to make the point.

“I don’t care about the logistics,” Dax said quietly. “I care that someone had access to your space. To you. Before I did.”

Chris stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head, more amused than offended. “You’re being unreasonable.”

“Yes,” Dax agreed. “I already admitted that this morning.”

Chris shifted, turning more fully toward him now, one hand coming up to rest against Dax’s chest, right over his heartbeat. “I didn’t sleep with him. I didn’t even think to explain because there was nothing to explain. Honestly, Clara, my ex-girlfriend would be a better target.”

“There is no point in being jealous of the dead.” Dax said, shrugging.

“She’s WHAT?”

Dax did not look away.

“She’s dead,” he repeated, tone even, as if stating a logistical fact rather than detonating a memory. “She was when I left your apartment. My men disposed of her quietly.”

Chris stared at him, the moment stretching thin and sharp. Then his breath left him in a short, incredulous laugh that cut off too abruptly to be real amusement.

“…You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke about that,” Dax replied.

The silence that followed was heavier than the earlier tension. Chris pulled his hand back from Dax’s chest slowly, as if he needed the space to think, to sort the past from the present.

“She tried to blackmail me,” Chris said after a moment, voice quieter now. “Not for money. She wanted connections. A noble to ’secure her future.’” His mouth tightened. “It was the same night you found me… and kidnapped with style. She didn’t like that I refused.”

Dax’s jaw flexed once.

“She was already tearing the place apart when I arrived,” Dax said. “She was venting. Screaming your name like it was something she owned. She tried to blackmail me while telling me she would use anything to let the public make you look bad.”

He reached for Chris then, instinctively drawing him into his chest.

“That part didn’t matter,” Dax continued evenly. “I have more influence over the press than most people realize.” His voice lowered, sharpened. “But she crossed a line when she put her hands on me.”

Chris let himself be held, his expression shifting from confusion to open shock.

“She touched… you?”

“Yes,” Dax said simply. “Physically.”

There was a beat.

“…Was she out of her mind?”

Dax’s arm tightened before he answered.

“Anyone who touches me without permission is dead,” he said calmly. “So no. It had nothing to do with you.”

Chris held his gaze, searching those otherworldly violet eyes for something unspoken. “But,” he said quietly.

Dax did not look away.

“But if anyone touches you now,” he continued, voice low and absolutely level, “they don’t get a warning.”

A pause.

“They don’t leave.”

Chris inhaled slowly, then exhaled, his fingers curling lightly into the fabric of Dax’s shirt instead of pulling away.

“That’s… excessive,” he said, mildly.

“Yes,” Dax agreed. “It is also very much in my character.”

Chris huffed a quiet breath, something between disbelief and reluctant acceptance, and leaned back into Dax’s chest. “You really are jealous.”

“I am,” Dax said without hesitation. His hold softened, just enough to keep it from becoming a cage. “But I am not confused.”

Chris rested his forehead against Dax’s collarbone, eyes closing for a brief moment. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I don’t belong to be fought over.”

Dax’s hand slid up his back. “No,” he said. “You belong to be protected.”

—

By the time breakfast was cleared, Dax was already in his office.

The room had returned to its usual order, reports aligned, screens awake, the city reduced to data and consequence, but the quiet carried a different weight now. He stood at the window for a moment longer than necessary, hands folded behind his back, gaze unfocused on the gardens below, then spoke without turning.

“Send Killian in.”

The response was immediate.

Killian entered the room with his usual posture, the purple mantle loosely draped over his right shoulder.

“Close the door,” Dax said.

Killian complied and remained standing. “Did something happen, Your Majesty?”

“You could say that,” Dax replied. “From the moment Chris came to Saha, I relaxed protocol.”

Killian inclined his head slightly. He had served Dax long enough to recognize that tone. “Intentionally?”

“Yes.” Dax turned from the window at last. “I wanted him to feel like this place could belong to him before it tried to shape him.”

Killian’s mouth curved almost imperceptibly. “You’ve never done that for anyone.”

“I’m aware,” Dax said dryly.

He crossed the room and rested one hand against the edge of his desk, his signet ring catching the light. “The problem is not misconduct,” he continued. “It’s awareness. Staff noticing when they should be invisible. Measuring when they should be absent.”

Killian’s gaze sharpened. “Has anyone spoken out of turn?”

“No,” Dax said. “Which means Chris notices instead. He hesitates. Pulls back because he’s anticipating judgment.”

That earned Killian’s full attention.

“That,” Killian said carefully, “is unacceptable.”

“Yes,” Dax agreed. “And it ends now.”

He straightened, authority settling into place without effort. “You will remind the staff where they stand. Quietly. My private life is not a subject of observation, speculation, or restraint.”

Killian nodded once. “All departments?”

“All,” Dax confirmed. “Anyone who makes my husband feel observed in moments that are mine to share with him is reassigned far from my proximity. Permanently.”

A pause.

“There is more,” Dax added. “Chris is not to be corrected on protocol under any circumstances. If he does something, it is because I allow it. If he wants something, it is because I will provide it.”

Killian exhaled softly, something like approval flickering across his features. “You’re setting a precedent.”

Dax’s lips curved faintly. “When did I ever hide anything in my own house, Killian?”

Killian allowed himself a small, knowing smile. “Fair point.”

“I won’t have him shrinking to fit a palace that belongs to me,” Dax continued, voice quieter now but no less firm. “If someone feels uncomfortable witnessing my affection, they’re welcome to look elsewhere.”

“They will adjust,” Killian said. “They always do.”

“They’ll learn,” Dax corrected.

Killian bowed, deeper this time. “I’ll make sure the message is received exactly as intended.”

“Good.”

Killian turned to leave, then paused at the door. “For what it’s worth,” he added, tone respectful but familiar, “it suits you.”

Dax did not look up, but there was no mistaking the answer in his voice.

“I know.”

The door closed behind Killian.

Dax remained standing for a moment longer, the palace settling back into order around him, before reaching for the console.

Chris would not learn restraint here.

Not in Dax’s palace.

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