Chapter 46
Diary 12; Forbidden Tension(MXM!!)
Slow Burn with Little Erotic Scene In This Book.
(If you’re not interested in a MXM relationship, skip to the next Diary (Diary 13, Chapter 54)
Nate Carter lived by one rule-control. He controlled his career, his emotions, and most importantly, his personal life. Every detail of his day was planned down to the minute, from his 5:00 AM workout to the neatly tailored suits he wore to court. As a top defense attorney, he was known for being ruthless, calculated, and completely untouchable.
But the moment Elijah Reyes walked into his office, Nate felt something shift.
The man strolled in like he owned the place, radiating an effortless confidence that immediately put Nate on edge. He had the kind of presence that demanded attention-tall, lean, and dressed like trouble itself. His dark curls were an unruly mess, his leather jacket slightly worn, and the smirk on his lips practically dared Nate to react.
Nate didn’t. He never did.
Instead, he straightened his tie and glanced down at the file on his desk. “Elijah Reyes,” he said, his voice as sharp as ever. “Charged with trespassing, vandalism, and destruction of private property. Care to explain why you thought breaking into an art gallery and painting on the walls was a good idea?”
Elijah didn’t answer right away. He took his time, settling into the chair across from Nate like he had all the time in the world. He stretched his legs out, his ripped jeans making a mockery of the pristine office space, and laced his fingers behind his head. Then, he smirked.
“It was a masterpiece, really.”
Nate exhaled slowly, willing himself to be patient. He had dealt with arrogant clients before, but something about Elijah was different. He wasn’t just smug-he was watching Nate closely, studying his every reaction.
“You’re looking at up to a year in prison,” Nate said coolly, tapping his pen against the desk. “Do you find that funny?”
Elijah shrugged. “Depends. Are you good enough to keep me out?”
Nate’s jaw tightened. “That depends. Are you willing to take this seriously?”
Elijah leaned forward suddenly, resting his forearms on Nate’s desk. The scent of leather and something faintly sweet-paint, maybe-drifted between them. His voice dropped, smooth and teasing. “Oh, I take things seriously. Just not the way you do, Mr. Carter.”
Something unfamiliar stirred in Nate’s chest, something he immediately shoved down. He had built his entire career on control. He wasn’t about to let some reckless artist-who clearly had no regard for consequences-rattle him.
“You think this is a game?” Nate asked, his voice tight.
Elijah’s smirk deepened. “Everything’s a game. Some people just play it better than others.”
Nate clenched his jaw. He didn’t have time for this. “Listen carefully,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “If you don’t follow my instructions exactly, I won’t be able to help you. And if you go to trial with this attitude, the judge won’t hesitate to make an example out of you.”
For a moment, Elijah just stared at him. Then, to Nate’s complete frustration, he laughed. A low, rich sound that sent an unwelcome heat creeping up Nate’s neck.
“You’re kind of intense,” Elijah mused. “Bet you don’t loosen up much, huh?”
Nate’s fingers curled into a fist. “My job isn’t to ‘loosen up.’ My job is to get you out of this mess.”
Elijah studied him for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair. “Alright, Mr. Carter. I’ll play by your rules. For now.”
Nate didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Because for the first time in years, he wasn’t entirely sure he was in control of the situation.
And something about Elijah Reyes told him that was exactly how he wanted it.
—
Nate regretted taking Elijah’s case the second he stepped out of the courtroom.
The hearing had gone as expected-Elijah was granted bail, thanks to Nate’s reputation and a well-crafted argument about artistic expression. But instead of being relieved or even remotely grateful, Elijah had spent the entire process smirking, as if watching Nate work was the most entertaining thing he’d seen in years.
And now, he was following Nate out of the courthouse like a damn shadow.
“That was impressive,” Elijah mused, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. “I almost believed you cared about me in there.”
“I don’t,” Nate replied flatly.
“Ouch,” Elijah teased, mock-wincing. “And here I thought we were bonding.”
Nate stopped in his tracks, turning to face him with a sharp glare. “Listen to me, Reyes. I am not your friend. My job is to keep you out of prison, not to entertain your games. So, if you’re done wasting my time, go home and stay out of trouble.”
Elijah tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re really bad at small talk, huh?”
Nate exhaled through his nose, willing himself to stay professional. “Goodbye, Elijah.”
He turned to leave, but before he could take two steps, Elijah grabbed his wrist. The touch was light but firm, enough to make Nate freeze.
“Wait.”
Something in Elijah’s voice-something quieter, almost serious-made Nate hesitate. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned back, expecting another sarcastic remark.
But Elijah wasn’t smirking anymore.
“Why’d you take my case?” Elijah asked, searching Nate’s face. “You had plenty of reasons to say no.”
Nate hesitated. He didn’t owe him an explanation. He could have given him the standard lawyer answer-something about upholding justice, defending the law.
But for some reason, he didn’t.
“Because you remind me of someone I used to know,” Nate said finally.
Elijah raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Someone as devastatingly handsome as me?”
The moment was gone. Nate shook his head, pulling his wrist free. “Just stay out of trouble,” he muttered before walking away.
He ignored the way Elijah’s laughter followed him down the courthouse steps.
—
Later That Night
Nate told himself he wouldn’t think about Elijah again.
But as he sat in his office, staring at the unfinished case files in front of him, his mind kept drifting back-to the way Elijah had looked at him in the courtroom, to the way his touch had lingered just a little too long.
It was nothing. A moment of distraction.
And yet, when his phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number, his stomach twisted.
Unknown: Hey, Mr. Carter. Miss me yet?
Nate stared at the message for a long moment.
Then, against his better judgment, he typed back.
Nate: How did you get my number?
The response came almost instantly.
Elijah: I have my ways.
Nate: Lose it.
Elijah: Come on, don’t be like that. I was thinking… since you’re my lawyer and all, shouldn’t we celebrate my bail?
Nate exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple.
Nate: Absolutely not.
Elijah: So you’re free? Good. I’ll be at the bar on 8th. Hope to see you there.
Nate didn’t respond.
He wouldn’t go. He had no reason to.
And yet, as the clock ticked past ten, he still hadn’t managed to get any work done.
Damn it.