Iris snickered behind her, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

Bryan, who clearly had a death wish, made faces at Grayson behind his back until Iris elbowed him in the ribs without even looking.

Neville glanced around at the interior.

This place was really big.

There was a sleek, low-slung piece of furniture in muted charcoal and cream that occupied the central lounge area. It faced a panoramic window that framed the ocean like a living painting.

There was a fully stocked bar gleaming under warm pendant lighting to the left.

Further in, the space branched out into what appeared to be a billiards room and a private dining alcove.

Then there were at least two more wings he couldn’t identify from where he stood.

The group settled into the lounge area, gravitating toward a long, curved sofa upholstered in slate-gray fabric that sat facing the panoramic ocean view.

But Neville had no time for breathtaking views.

The moment he sat down, he turned to Grayson.

"You know something," Neville said, certain.

Grayson, who had just casually taken Neville’s hand in his own upon sitting—threading their fingers together as naturally—looked at him innocently.

"They were just messing with you," he said.

"That’s not the answer."

"There’s nothing to worry about." Grayson smiled and said as his thumb traced a slow, absent circle against Neville’s knuckle. "Don’t you have a sharp memory? If something happened, wouldn’t you remember it?"

Neville opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. His brow furrowed.

Did he have a sharp memory?

He wanted to say yes. In most situations, his memory recall was sharp—names, dates, numbers, recipes.

But there were just those moments, weren’t there?

Memory gaps.

Small, annoying blind spots where something had slipped through the cracks of his attention.

Still. If he was being honest, compared to Grayson—who had entire periods of time that simply didn’t exist in his memory—Neville’s occasional forgetfulness was nothing.

He pressed his lips together and decided not to push it.

"Fine," he muttered, but his tone carried the distinct flavor of I’m letting this go temporarily, not permanently.

Grayson, wisely, did not smile. But the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he wanted to.

With no answers forthcoming, Neville resigned himself to waiting for the rest of the guests to arrive. It seemed they had come a little too early. The estate felt emptier despite the chattering since it was really big.

Then Neville noticed Colonel Vane.

This officer had been trailing their group silently the entire walk—so quietly that Neville had nearly forgotten he was there.

Now, Colonel Vane somehow separated from them in the entrance without a word. Neville saw him methodically sweeping through the place.

Meanwhile, Iris, Bryan, and Sarah had already made their way to the bar.

The three of them perched on the chrome-topped barstools, drinks in their hands. It seemed that this was not their first time tinkering in the high-end liquor selection.

Their chatter was echoing, highlighted by Sarah’s distinctive laugh and the clink of ice against glass.

Which left Neville and Grayson alone on the sofa.

Together.

Holding hands.

In an open room.

Neville blinked his eyes, heart pounding. He glanced down at their intertwined fingers. Grayson’s hand was large and warm against his, their palms pressed together so naturally.

The two of them were sitting close enough that their shoulders touched despite the huge space on either side.

Heat crawled up the back of his neck and bloomed across his cheeks.

Then—

Clack.

The sharp and crisp sound of hard balls colliding cut through his spiraling thoughts.

Neville’s head turned toward the sound, his blush momentarily forgotten as confusion replaced embarrassment.

There were already other people here.

The billiards room was set deeper into the estate. It was partially screened by a half-wall and an arrangement of tall, potted blue ferns that created a visual barrier from the main lounge.

Neville squinted past the greenery and made out three figures arranged around a regular-sized pool table bathed in warm overhead light.

He immediately recognized Julius Seaton standing at the far end of the table. He had a chalk cube in hand, studying an angle.

Beside him, leaning against a cue stick with the loose-limbed ease, was Pete Rowan. He met him before in the Mecha Research Institute.

His sleeves were rolled up past his forearms, and he was watching Julius’s shot with the relaxed attentiveness of someone keeping score purely for amusement.

And then there was the third man.

Neville’s gaze was on him, and he held his breath.

The man wasn’t playing, but he sat on the edge of a high stool near the table, one ankle crossed over his knee. He was watching the game with idle interest while waiting for his turn.

Even in that casual posture, he was striking. Not striking the way Grayson was—all sharp lines and restrained power—but striking the way a painting was.

Ethereal. Delicate.

The kind of beauty that made you blink twice because your brain needed a moment to process that a real human being could actually look like that.

Neville frowned slightly.

He looked familiar. Where have I seen him before?

"Would you like to say hello?" Grayson asked, already beginning to rise.

"Yeah, sure."

As they approached the billiards room, the third man’s features became increasingly clear.

His platinum blond hair caught the light like spun glass. Honey-gold eyes set beneath lashes so long they cast actual shadows on his cheekbones.

A face so perfect, it looked unreal.

Then, recognition hit Neville.

"Ah!" 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

He stopped mid-step, his free hand flying up to point at the third person.

"Zero!"

Chronos raised his head upon hearing his stage name. His honey-gold eyes found Neville’s face. Then, Neville’s finger was pointing directly at him with zero social grace.

Then a professional idol smile spread on his features.

Warm and effortlessly charming.

There was just enough mystery in that curve of his lips to make you feel like he was sharing a private joke with you and you alone.

Neville’s brain short-circuited.