Chapter 6 - Steel-Gray Eyes
Grant didn't move. He knew that any sudden motion—a rushed step, an eager smile—might frighten them. He remained frozen by the window, his hands resting loosely at his sides, feeling more exposed than he ever had in front of a congressional inquiry or a hostile board of directors.
Eli blinked, lowering his fist from his eye. He looked from his mother’s tense posture to the tall stranger standing by the desk.
"Mommy, who's that?" Eli asked, his voice clear and innocent in the quiet suite.
Elena swallowed hard, her eyes darting between Grant and her sons. She looked trapped, a deer caught in the headlights of a collision she had spent three years avoiding. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Grant took matters into his own hands. He didn't wait for her permission.
Slowly, deliberately, he sank down onto one knee. It was the exact posture he had used on the plane, but this time, the lighting was warm, filtering through the lace curtains of the Mayfair suite.
"Hello, Eli," Grant said, his voice dropping into a register so gentle it shocked even himself. "Hello, Owen."
Owen clutched his brother's shoulder, stepping slightly behind him. "How do you know our names?"
"I was sitting behind you on the airplane," Grant said, offering a small, self-deprecating smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes. "And... I used to know your mom a long time ago."
Eli tilted his head, studying Grant with that fierce, analytical intensity that Grant recognized instantly as his own. The boy walked forward, taking two tentative steps across the plush carpet until he was standing just a foot away from Grant. He looked up, peering closely at Grant’s face, tracing the sharp angle of his jaw and the distinctive color of his irises.
"Your eyes look like mine," Eli observed, completely matter-of-fact.
Grant felt a thick, hot lump rise in his throat. He had to blink rapidly to keep the stinging moisture from spilling over.
"Yes, they do, buddy," Grant whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "They really do."
"Are you a giant?" Owen asked, finally finding his courage and walking over to join his brother.
Grant let out a low, genuine chuckle—a sound so rare and light that Elena felt her chest constrict.
"Sometimes people at my office think so," Grant admitted, looking up at Elena, whose eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. "But right now, I'm just a guy who would really like to take you both, and your mom, out for ice cream. If she says it's okay."
Both boys instantly whipped their heads around, fixing their identical steel-gray gazes on Elena.
"Mom? Can we? Please?" Eli pleaded, clasping his hands together in a classic toddler maneuver that was impossible to resist.
Elena looked at Grant. She saw no arrogance in his posture, no corporate coldness, no demands for control. She saw a man stripped of his armor, kneeling on a hotel carpet, waiting for a verdict.
May you like
She let out a long, shuddering breath, a small, weary smile finally breaking through her defenses.
"All right," Elena whispered, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "Ice cream. But only if you put your shoes on first."
