As You Wished

Two Anxious Camps

The Arvenhart estate sprawled across Noverra's most exclusive district like a monument to old money and older power. Evening was settling over the city, painting the sky in fading shades of amber and gold.

In the mansion's grand reception room, Leon Arvenhart occupied his favorite leather armchair with the bearing of a man accustomed to commanding nations. At fifty-six, the newly elected Prime Minister cut an imposing figure in his tailored charcoal suit, every line of his face speaking of authority hard-won and jealously guarded.

Beside him, Laura Arvenhart perched on an antique sofa in her flawless navy dress. A line of household staff stood at attention along the far wall, their faces bright with anticipation for the young master's return from London.

The rumble of an engine echoed from the circular drive. Leon and Laura moved to the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching a black sedan glide to a stop before the marble steps.

"About damn time," Leon muttered under his breath.

The car door opened with mechanical precision. Julian emerged first, his movements betraying bone-deep weariness. But it was the second figure that made Leon's jaw tighten—a young man with electric green hair unfolding himself from the backseat, all sharp angles and nervous energy in his casual white shirt and jeans.

Laura stepped forward with practiced warmth. "Rui, darling! How wonderful to see you again."

"Good evening, Aunt Laura." Rui's bow was respectful, but his eyes kept scanning the empty driveway.

Leon's patience snapped like a taut wire. "Where is Kael?"

Julian's face performed an impressive vanishing act, trying to disappear into his collar.

Leon moved closer, decades of reading political lies making Julian's discomfort transparent as glass. "I asked you a question."

Before the interrogation could begin, Laura swooped in with diplomatic grace. "Rui, sweetheart, you must be starving. Come on, let's get some food in you while these two sort out their dramatics."

She practically swept the green-haired young man away, leaving Leon and Julian alone in a room that suddenly felt cavernous and cold.

Leon crossed his arms, radiating the kind of authority that had brought nations to heel. "Now, Julian. I want the truth."

Julian loosened his tie with the air of a man preparing for execution. "Sir, the situation is... complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"Young Master Kael decided to... visit someone before returning home."

Leon went very still. "Someone."

Julian swallowed hard. "Someone... important to him."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the antique grandfather clock's steady tick. Leon walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back.

"Julian, we had this conversation ten years ago."

"Yes, sir."

"I thought we'd put it to rest."

Julian's silence spoke louder than any confession.

Leon turned, his face carved from granite. "Where are they now?"

***

Whisper & Notes occupied a corner lot in one of Noverra's quieter neighborhoods, all warm wood and golden lighting. Dean had seen his share of characters during his three years behind the espresso machine, but Theo Whitford was in a category all his own.

The man burst through the front door like he was making an entrance at a film premiere—all purple shimmer and calculated attitude.

"Right," Theo announced to the room at large, "which one of you let someone kidnap my artist?"

Dean didn't look up from his methodical cleaning. "Afternoon, Theo. If we're adding kidnapping to the menu, management forgot to tell me."

Theo strutted across the café, designer heels clicking against hardwood. "Don't be clever, Dean. Elior was here not two hours ago, then vanished with some tall, dark stranger who looked like he'd stepped off a magazine cover. And you just... watched it happen?"

Maya, the newest barista, piped up with devastating innocence. "He left on his own, actually. Looked like he was the one doing the dragging."

Theo spun toward her with theatrical precision. "That's exactly the point! Elior doesn't drag mysterious handsome men anywhere unless something monumentally weird is happening."

"Maybe it wasn't mysterious," Dean offered mildly.

"Listen here." Theo leaned across the counter. "Elior's personal life is my personal life. That's how this business works. And I was not invited to whatever little adventure this was."

Dean finally looked up with weary patience. "So what exactly do you want me to do about it?"

Theo's smile could have powered the building. "Double espresso, extra shot. Corner table by the window. And I'm camping here until I get answers."

"Camping?"

"Thirty minutes. If I don't hear from Elior in exactly thirty minutes, I'm calling every entertainment reporter in my contacts list. 'Beloved local actor vanishes from neighborhood café.' Think they'll be interested?"

Dean's hands went still. He knew exactly who owned Whisper & Notes, and he knew that person would rather burn the place down than deal with reporters.

His phone was in his hand before Theo finished his threat.

"Smart boy," Theo purred, settling into his chosen corner table.

Dean speed-dialed the emergency contact. The line picked up on the first ring.

"What?" The voice was sharp enough to cut glass.

"Sir, we have a... situation. Theo Whitford is here."

A pause. Then what sounded distinctly like someone's forehead meeting a desk. "What does he want?"

"He's looking for Elior. Says if he doesn't get answers in thirty minutes, he's calling the press."

A string of profanity followed. "Don't let him talk to any reporters. Offer him free coffee, offer him money, offer him your firstborn if you have to."

"What should I tell him about Elior?"

"Nothing. Don't tell him anything. I'll... I'll figure something out."

Dean glanced toward Theo, who was making a show of checking his watch. "Sir, he seems pretty confident."

"Of course he is. He knows exactly what he's doing. Ten peaceful, quiet years, and now..." The voice dropped to a mutter. "I'm on my way. Do whatever it takes to keep him happy until I get there."

The line went dead.

Dean stared at his phone, then at Theo, who was now grinning with the satisfied expression of a chess master.

"Everything alright, Dean?" Theo asked sweetly. "You look a bit pale."

"Twenty-six minutes now," Theo announced to the café. Several customers were starting to pay attention.

Dean busied himself making Theo's double espresso. "Your coffee," he said, setting the cup down with excessive care.

Theo took a delicate sip. "Perfect, as always. You know, Dean, I genuinely love this place. Would be such a shame if it got overrun with paparazzi."

Dean's phone buzzed with a text: *Whatever he wants. Give it to him. - Management*

Dean showed the message to Theo, who actually clapped in delight.

"Oh, this is going better than I'd hoped!"

Dean's phone rang again. "Yes?"

"Is he still there?"

"Very much so."

"I can't get there in time. Traffic's... Look, just tell him Elior is safe. Tell him he's with someone Elior trusts completely."

"Should I mention who Elior is with?"

"Absolutely not. And Dean? Put this on speaker."

Dean hit the speaker button and carried the phone to Theo's table. "Theo, someone wants to talk to you."

"Mr. Whitford," the voice came through controlled but with barely restrained fury. "Elior is safe. He's with someone he trusts. That's all you need to know."

Theo leaned back, clearly relishing the moment. "And who might you be?"

"Someone who values privacy."

"Privacy is overrated, especially when my artist vanishes without a word. Nineteen minutes, by the way."

"What do you want?"

"I want to know where Elior is, who he's with, and why this is all so hush-hush." Theo's voice lost its playful edge. "Elior is family to me. I'm not leaving until I know he's genuinely okay."

The silence stretched for nearly a full minute. Finally, the voice spoke again, quieter now.

"He's with someone from his past. Someone important. They're somewhere safe, somewhere private. I can't say more than that."

"Someone from his past," Theo repeated thoughtfully. "Someone important enough to make you panic about media attention." His eyes lit up with understanding. "Oh. OH. Well, this is interesting."

"Relax," Theo said, waving at the phone. "I'm not calling the press. But I will want the full story eventually."

Dean could practically feel the relief coming through the phone. "Thank you."

The call ended abruptly. Theo leaned back, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"Show's over, everyone," Theo announced. "Though I have to admit, this has been the most entertaining coffee break I've had in months."

Dean slumped against the counter, wondering if his paycheck was worth this level of stress.