Free Web NovelChapter 66: _You Don’t Like Being Touched?
Back at Phoenix Flight HQ — Devon had to put Orion to sleep after dinner. The boy insisted on reading a bedtime story. So Devon did just that.
"And with that..." The Esper sat on a chair beside Orion’s bed, watching the way the boy’s eyes half- lidded. "Cinderella and the prince lived happily ever after. The end."
Orion beamed, snuggling between his pillows. "You’ve told me this story before, papa..." he stopped himself, eyes widening like he wasn’t supposed to say that. "I... I mean—"
"You’re one weird kid, Orion." Devon shoved off the awkward moment with a chuckle, stretching a hand to his hair.
When his fingers brushed through those blonde strands, they bristled. There it was again. This... odd wave of familiarity and protectiveness. As if it were his duty to stick close to the kid.
Devon retracted his fingers, clearing his throat. "Uhm... looks like you’re feeling sleepy already."
The little guy nodded slowly. "Mmhm."
"Good." Devon got on his feet, smiling once more. "Have sweet dreams, okay? Good night."
He’d taken a few steps toward the bedroom door when Orion stopped him.
"P–Papa?" The boy called. "Do you ever wonder where I’m from? Or like... how I got here?"
Devon paused. He didn’t know how to answer that at first. Because of course he does. But no matter how many times he’s asked Ambrose or Orion neither gave him a full answer.
He was ’family’ and that was it.
"You know I’ve asked you about it several times, right bud?" Devon smirked over his shoulder, eyes locking on the boy. "Does this mean you’re ready to talk now?"
Orion’s fingers hooked tighter on his bed sheet. Upon seeing that, Devon sighed.
"... I guess not."
"You won’t believe me if I told you," Orion chimed too quickly. "My daddy believed though. He... gets it. He always has."
Devon’s eyes narrowed.
His dad—Ambrose.
Ignoring the fact that the kid calls him that, Ambrose most of the time acts like he’s new to parenting. Yet the boy acts like they’ve been around each other since he was born.
They might think he wasn’t noticing the dynamic, but he was. And it was becoming harder to ignore.
"I can get it," Devon spun, facing the lad fully again. "If you let me. Just... give me that trust. You call me ’papa’ right?"
He hoped desperately that that would do the trick and make the boy open up.
Alas—
—All Orion did was yawn, his head falling back onto his pillow. "I... want ice-cream..."
Devon’s brows knitted. "Kid, you just had lunch and it’s bed—oh, Jesus. He’s asleep."
Seeing the boy already snoring lightly brought a warm smile to the S-Rank’s face. He didn’t know when he strode to the bed, leaning down.
He pressed a kiss on Orion’s forehead. "I’m still fine with being out of the loop. Taking care of you has been the greatest joy."
As he walked out of the bedroom, turning off the lights and shutting the door—he exhaled. His back rested against the door for a beat.
Then he pulled out his phone, staring at the time first.
It’s almost eight pm already.
He was about to text the nurse in charge of watching his nephew when a notification popped up:
RUMORS ABOUT DEVON FERGUSON’S RELATIONSHIP INTENSIFY — C-RANK PARTNER SPOTTED HAVING DINNER WITH ANOTHER S-RANK.
His forehead creased. "What the..."
The notification redirected him to a video blowing up on Instagram. Just ten seconds long. But enough to stir controversies because of the people in it.
Devon’s grip tightened on the phone.
Ambrose and Viktor.
The video showed Ambrose holding the ice Prince’s wrist. Staring at something on the guy’s phone while they sat in a familiar-looking restaurant.
Pinnacle Pavilion.
"The bastard couldn’t take him anywhere other than his favourite spot," Devon snorted, trying to keep his cool. "Why’s he holding him so long?"
He repeated the video and sometimes paused it just to zoom in on the look in Ambrose’s silver orbs.
Devon’s eyes twitched. "What are you doing, Rose?"
★★★★★
"What are you doing, Ambrose?" Viktor asked again, head tilting as his eyes flicked from Ambrose’s elbow to his face. "What was that... feeling just now?"
Ambrose sat petrified, not knowing what to say or do.
He sure as hell wasn’t going to admit he was trying to form a permanent link. So... he did what he knew how to do best in situations like this.
Divert.
"You don’t like being touched?"
Viktor’s frown deepened. "I... It’s not that. You were—"
"I only got distracted by what I was looking at and didn’t realise I was holding you for so long," Ambrose skillfully slipped his elbow out of the Esper’s grip, all while keeping a sly smirk. Maintaining eye contact. "I didn’t mean to... push things."
Now Viktor blinked with confusion.
Across the bar, the female server from earlier had deliberately taken videos of them and posted them on social media. Which he paid her to. Just to see if Devon would react.
To him, this dinner date was a game to find out the truth behind Devon’s closeness to the Guide. So why did it feel like he was being played in his own game?
"Good evening, sirs." A waiter approached their table just then, snapping Viktor out of his thoughts. And making him forget whatever he felt when Ambrose held him.
The latter let out a relieved breath. ’That was too close...’
"Our finest wine," the waiter held out a bottle and a couple of glasses, dropping them on the table. "Your food will be brought shortly."
As the man trailed away, Ambrose lifted a brow.
"Food? We didn’t order anything yet, right?"
Viktor’s smug smirk came back, his hands moving to the wine bottle. "You didn’t," he opened it with a pop. "But I did before you got here."
He poured the wine into both glasses, ignoring Ambrose’s stunned stare.
"That’s..." the Guide shook his head. "How do you know I’ll even like whatever you ordered?"
"Oh, you will," Viktor said confidently, adding a wink.
Meanwhile, the system blinked with a screen in front of Ambrose.
[Permanent Link Unsuccessful.]
[Percentage Loaded: 10%.]
’Which means I need to hold him longer and push that ten to a hundred.’ Ambrose bit his bottom lip, watching Viktor take a sip from his wine.
The Esper smacked his mouth with satisfaction, unaware that the man across from him was already cooking up a different approach.
He’d need longer contact. Closer proximity. Less suspicion.
’I’ll get that link tonight,’ he promised himself. ’You want to play, Viktor? Game on.’
