Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 418: The View [Win-Win]

Chris’s laughter subsided into a soft, breathless chuckle. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slowly as he looked from the impossible flowers to the equally impossible man across the table from him.

Dax’s smile was slow and satisfied. "I prefer to think of it as a strategic relocation."

"Of me or the flowers?"

"Both," Dax said without missing a beat. "They look better with you here."

Chris felt a warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with the afternoon sun streaming through the glass. He picked up his fork, then set it down again, his curiosity overriding any pretense of appetite.

"You’re not serious about the bedroom," he said, though he knew Dax was. "That was just... a threat. To distract me from the real estate transaction you just casually admitted to."

Dax took a slow sip of water, his eyes never leaving Chris’s over the rim of the glass. "I don’t make threats I don’t intend to keep."

Chris’s pulse jumped. "So there is a bedroom." 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"There is," Dax confirmed. "And it has a view."

Chris stared at him, his mind already trying to piece it together. He set his fork down with a decisive click. "I’m done with the eating part of the abduction," he declared. "I’m ready for the bedroom part."

Dax’s smile was slow and dangerous. He stood and held out his hand. "Then let me show you."

Chris took his hand, their fingers intertwining naturally. Dax led him away from the table, through a door Chris hadn’t noticed before, and up a flight of stairs carved from the same dark wood as the floor below. The stairs were open, with glass railings that offered glimpses of the conservatory below, now looking even more like a fantastical garden from above.

At the top of the stairs was another door, this one made of dark, frosted glass that obscured what lay beyond. Dax paused, his hand on the handle.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice low.

Chris’s heart was pounding. "I was born ready."

Dax laughed softly and pushed the door open.

Chris stepped over the threshold and stopped dead.

For one suspended second, he forgot to breathe for reasons unrelated to Dax and entirely structural.

The room was an engineering flex disguised as seduction.

His gaze moved fast, too fast for someone pretending to be composed, tracking junctions, frame lines, and load paths, the way the glass met dark steel and hidden supports without interrupting the illusion of air. The spans were ambitious. The transitions were clean. The sightlines had been designed by someone obsessive enough to understand both beauty and fear.

A faint shift in reflection at the outer panes when he angled his head.

Laminated privacy treatment. Likely smart tint layered into one-way glass, with external reflectivity tuned to daylight conditions.

Chris narrowed his eyes, delighted despite himself. "You bought me a conservatory with a secret glass lair."

Dax, still by the door, looked pleased. "That sounds like approval."

Chris turned slowly, already smiling. "It is very close."

Then his attention snapped back to the room.

The bed sat at the center like it had won a war - low, broad, and indecently inviting in dark wood and white linen, framed by sky and green and light. Beyond it, the private garden unfolded in layered terraces, roses and clipped hedges, and water catching the sun in bright flashes. Above, the blue of the late afternoon stretched wide enough to make the room feel almost unreal.

Chris took another step in, then another, his hand still in Dax’s.

"This is insane," he said softly. "Architecturally. Financially. Morally, probably."

Dax closed the door behind them with a quiet click and came up beside him. "You like the glass."

Chris laughed under his breath. "I hate how well you know me."

"You love how well I know you."

Chris glanced at him, caught the look on his face, and corrected himself with no conviction at all. "That too."

He moved toward the nearest wall - if ’wall’ still counted when it was almost all transparent - and crouched slightly to inspect the lower edge where the panel met the frame.

Dax watched him for a beat, then folded his arms, amused. "Are you auditing the bedroom?"

Chris ran two fingers lightly along the seam without touching the glass itself. "Obviously."

"You said you were done with the eating part."

"I am. This is the inspection phase."

Dax’s laugh followed him across the room, warm and rich and entirely too entertained.

Chris straightened and looked up through the ceiling panels, eyes narrowing in open professional interest now. "Triple laminate?"

Dax blinked. "I have no idea."

Chris looked offended. "You bought the building and didn’t ask?"

"I asked if it was safe."

"And?"

Dax stepped closer, hands finding Chris’s waist from behind, his mouth near Chris’s temple. "They said yes."

Chris leaned back into him automatically, still staring up at the glass. "That is not a specification."

"It was enough for me."

Chris turned in his arms, expression bright with that dangerous combination of arousal and technical fascination Dax had learned not to interrupt too quickly.

"No, listen. If this is what I think it is, the outer panes are probably laminated low-iron structural glass with integrated privacy film and thermal control. Which means someone spent an obscene amount of money making transparency feel private and comfortable."

Dax’s mouth curved. "I also spent an obscene amount of money making transparency feel private and comfortable."

Chris stared at him for one beat, then laughed, helpless. "I walked right into that."

"You did."

Dax’s hands slid more securely around his waist, thumbs brushing the hem of Chris’s shirt where it met his jeans. The movement was slow and unhurried, but not entirely innocent.

Chris’s eyes flicked to the bed.

Then back to Dax.

Then, because he refused to be the only one affected by this room, he reached up and loosened Dax’s collar with two fingers as if correcting a minor problem.

Dax watched his hand. "Inspection phase?"

Chris smiled. "I’m broadening scope."

That got him another low laugh.

Dax tipped his head toward the glass walls. "Tell me what else you see."

Chris glanced around again, this time slower, letting himself admire it fully.

"Load-bearing spine hidden in the side walls," he said, pointing lightly. "You can tell by the thicker verticals near the corners and the way the ceiling grid distributes toward them. The floor glazing is most likely limited to panels over steel framing rather than full-span, which explains why the bed is centered on the solid platform. Smart. Less vibration, better thermal stability."

Dax looked at him with naked pride that had nothing to do with the room and everything to do with Chris.

"And?" he prompted.

Chris’s expression softened as he looked back out over the garden, then up through the glass ceiling where the sky was starting to shift toward evening.

"And," he said quietly, "someone designed it so the view feels endless while the person inside feels safe."

Dax went still behind him.

Chris turned, his hand coming to rest flat over Dax’s chest.

"That," he said, meeting his eyes, "is the part I like most."

For a moment, Dax didn’t answer.

Then he lifted his hand and gently touched Chris’s face, tracing his thumb along his cheekbone.

"That was the only part that mattered," he said.