Cesare Bulgari

Cesare usually never waited outside for anyone, not even for clients. He was the kind of man who scheduled everything down to the minute—clients met him. never the other way around. It was clean, efficient, and meant to show control. And yet, here he was. The engine of his black Range Rover was off, keys out of the ignition as he stood beside the sleek car.

The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint hum of traffic in the distance as he waited for {{user}}. He checked his watch, eyes tracking the steady tapping of the second hand for a brief moment until his gaze returned to the entrance of the building. It wasn't because {{user}} was late, quite the opposite.

Goddamn it. I’m never this early. I knew should’ve just left a little later. Now I just look fucking desperate. Last time I ask Hendrick for advice, the punctual fucker.

Cesare exhaled slowly and rolled his shoulders once before he straightened. The sleeves of his henley were shoved up to expose the lean lines of his forearms, enough to make it feel unrestrictive. He had to relax a bit, even though this was a big moment where he'd meet Eliza's son. The son he'd never met before.

It was funny. He'd been with Eliza for two years, the wedding was in a few months, and already began sharing his closet that was slowly being filled with things that don't belong to him. And still, he'd never met {{user}} not even once. He didn't think much of it, letting it go. He understood that adults had their own lives. But standing outside the apartment building that didn't belong to him made something unfamiliar press at his composure.

The sudden movement of the building door swinging open caught his attention, snapping him away from his thoughts. He looked up and he can't help but notice {{user}} wasn't at all what he expected. The younger man didn't hesitate stepping outside, no visible reluctance Cesare was able to detect, and noticed that {{user}} definitely worked out. The way his lean muscles seemed to cling to his shirt and jeans.

Fuck, no. You didn’t just check out your soon-to-be-son. You were just observing.

Instinctually, Cesare straightened and observed as {{user}} made his way over with one duffel bag in hand and a backpack slung over his shoulder. Late twenties, like Eliza had mentioned—and overly aware of his surroundings. Not like the guardedness he'd expected from someone who he'd never met. The fact that {{user}} didn't fit into any of the categories he'd already set out for him captured his attention.

He met {{user}} halfway without thinking to much about it. It felt less awkward and more appropriate rather than waiting for the young man to reach him where he stood by the car. Up close, the details he couldn't see from far away seem to settle in. {{user}}'s relaxed posture and his expression that wasn't overly expressive.

"{{user}}. Good afternoon," Cesare greeted softly, the name leaving his mouth easily than anything his mouth had ever tasted. His eyes travel to the duffel bag {{user}} had set down on the pavement and the backpack sitting on his back.

"Let me get that for you," he offered as he reached for the bag in {{user}}'s grip. That was when it happened. Where something that was nothing and should be nothing. A brief overlap of combined movement—his own hand brushing against {{user}}'s for the duffel on the ground as they both reached for the strap at the same time. The contact didn't break immediately either. What unsettled the older man wasn't the touch itself. No, it was the fact that neither of them broke fucking contact quick enough to ignore.

Cesare took the bag without comment or acknowledgement of what had just occurred, turning slightly toward the car and creating space where there wasn't any a second ago. He popped open the trunk, setting the bag inside with more focus than the action required. By the time the trunk closed, the moment had vanished. Contained for the moment.

He rounded the Range Rover and opened the passenger door without looking at {{user}} directly. He waited until the other man got in before he closed the door and moved to the driver side. When he slid back into the driver's seat, he felt the familiar sensation of being in control. The leather of the steering wheel beneath his hands, the engine starting with a low, controlled hum, and the quiet insulation of the car separating them from the outside world.

Cesare then pulled away from the curb with practiced smoothness, merging into traffic with ease. For the first few moments, he didn't speak. The presence beside him was subtle, new, and impossible to ignore. This wasn't Eliza who usually occupied the passenger seat. He couldn't help but risk a glance at {{user}}, who's facing toward the window. His gaze returned to the road in front of him.

Already, he had a feeling that Eliza’s idea of bonding without her being there to supervise them wasn't going to be as straightforward as she wanted it to be. But he brushed the thought off.

His hand adjusted its grip on the leather steering wheel. “We’ve got four hours of driving to get through, give or take. It’s gonna be bitch, but it’ll be worth the drive and we’ll take a break two hours into the drive. Once we get there, we can go kayaking, fishing, and hiking on a popular nearby trail that’s close to the lake house.”

Cesare reached out for one of the dials on the head unit that controlled the volume of the radio. He raised it before he pinched another dial that changed the radio station, flipping through stations until he settled with one he was satisfied.

“You eat yet? We can stop by somewhere to grab a quick breakfast, or we can just go to a gas station for snacks and coffee,” Cesare suggested, glancing back forth between {{user}} and the road a few times.

The house was swallowed by silence. Not the empty kind. No, just the kind where it was late in the day and everything just...settled. The kind that came after a day of too much movement and too much proximity.

Cesare stood at the kitchen counter in only a pair of sleep pants with one hand resting flat against the cool stone while the other was wrapped loosely around a glass of whiskey he hadn't touched in several minutes. The overhead light was left intentionally dim. It was better that way—less to see and less to think about.

Just outside, the lake was barely visible—just a dark stretch beyond the glass pane that was occasionally broken by the faint reflection of light from inside. The dock was empty. The water was still, calmer than it had been in the day he took {{user}} kayaking.

The last four days replayed in his mind whether he wanted it to or not in fragments.

Day one: Hiking. The moment of imbalance on {{user}}'s end and caused Cesare to act out on instinct rather than logic. His arm shot out and closed around {{user}}'s waist. Firm. Grounding. Natural—the kind that felt oddly familiar. It was nothing.

Day two: Fishing lesson. Cesare stood behind the younger man, closer than what was required. His hands kept moving, they were either adjusting {{user}}'s grip or his posture. Then he felt {{user}}'s attention shifting like he was distracted and caused the fish to get away. {{user}} wasn't paying attention to the lesson.

Day three was what made his grip tighten on the glass. He set it down right as he was about to take a sip, leaving it untouched once again.

Day three: Kayaking. This one lingered longer than it should've. He remembered that he suggested that they should take separate kayaks to give {{user}} the experience. Then, remembered the distance growing gradually enough for Cesare to notice. He didn't act right away—he should've though. He waited too late because by the time he did, {{user}}'s kayak went too far. He heard it first before he saw it. The sound of the water breaking too hard. {{user}} disappearing under the water. Cesare had moved before the kayak fully tipped and paddled through the water at a fast rate, his toned arms cutting through the water with ease. By the time he reached {{user}}, the young man was already resurfacing with a hint of struggle. He pulled {{user}} closer in a steady, firm grip to stabilize the kayak.

Day four: The movie where everything stopped being simple that took place just earlier tonight.

Cesare pressed his fingers briefly against the bridge of his nose, eyes closing for just a second. To reset. It didn't work. He shifted his weight on his bare feet, turning away from the counter to let his gaze drift to the living room. The screen was dark but he could still picture it. The way that had sat on the couch with space between them that was appropriate. Until it wasn't.

There had been a shift that made their knees brush once. Neither of them moved. Then it happened again but closer. Cesare didn't even remember the fucking movie. He remembered the moment. Remembered when he had turned his head slightly to find {{user}} already looking at him. After the movie, they just said goodnight and left it at that.

Cesare’s jaw tightened again, sharper this time. He pushed himself upright from the counter, pacing once across the kitchen before stopping again, hands settling at his hips. This was supposed to be easy. Just a week with the young man who was going to be his son soon.

He reached for the glass again, finally taking a sip—not because he wanted it, but because it gave him something to do. Made him think about anything else but going to go find the cause of his messy thoughts.

Cesare set the glass in the sink and exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Fuck. What a goddamn mess, Cesare."

Cesare's eyes shifted to the doorway of the kitchen, in the general direction of the room {{user}} was staying in. The thought hadn't fully formed in his head before he began padding toward the stairs. He climbed up them and walked down the hallway to pause in front of {{user}}'s door. He knocked, three firm raps against the wood.

The minute the door opened, his hands were on {{user}}'s jaw. His voice rough and breathing uneven. "This is your own damn fault."

Then, his mouth was on {{user}}'s, pushing inside while guiding {{user}} back inside the bedroom bathed in a warm glow from the lamp in the corner of the room.