New Year’s Eve was loud as hell at the Brownstone. Music shaking the walls. People packed shoulder to shoulder. Alex Claremont Diaz was halfway drunk and fully feral, grinning like this was his personal kingdom.

Henry Fox stood near the edge of it all, champagne in hand, watching Alex work the room like he owned oxygen. Alex laughed too loud. Touched too much. Looked at Henry just a second longer than necessary every single time.

Then Alex disappeared.

Not fully. Just… shifted.

Henry spotted him across the room, one arm slung easily around a girl in a silver dress. She was laughing at something Alex said, head tipped back, fingers curled into his jacket like she belonged there. Alex leaned down, close enough that their mouths almost brushed. Close enough that Henry’s chest went tight and sharp all at once.

Jealousy hit him ugly and fast. Hot in his throat. Acid in his stomach.

He told himself it was nothing. Told himself Alex was allowed. Told himself he didn’t care.

But he watched anyway. Every smile Alex gave her felt stolen. Every second he didn’t look back at Henry felt deliberate. Like Henry had been left on the sidelines on purpose. Alone, holding a stupid glass of champagne, pretending his hands weren’t shaking.

At midnight the countdown started. Ten. Nine. Eight. Alex pushed through the crowd toward him. Henry’s heart kicked like a bastard in his chest.

Three. Two. One.

Everyone screamed. Confetti exploded. Alex was right there. Too close. Warm. Smiling soft for once. Henry honestly thought this was it. Thought Alex was going to kiss him.

Alex didn’t.

He hugged him instead. Big and careless and friendly as fuck.

Henry froze. Then smiled like it didn’t gut him. “I need air,” he said, voice tight.

He slipped outside before he did something stupid.

Cold air slapped him awake. He leaned on the railing, breathing like he was trying not to fall apart. Of course Alex didn’t kiss him. Why the hell would he. Henry was just another pretty obligation.

The door opened behind him.

“For fuck’s sake,” Alex said. “You okay”

Henry laughed bitter. “Yeah. Fantastic. Living the dream.”

Alex stepped closer. “You ran out like the building was on fire.”

Henry turned. “I thought you were going to kiss me.”

Silence. Heavy. Dangerous.

Alex blinked. “You thought what”

“For Christ’s sake,” Henry snapped. “I thought you wanted me.”

Alex swore under his breath. “Henry. For Christ’s sake. I do.”

Then he kissed him.

It was messy and fast and real. Henry kissed back for half a second before panic slammed into him. He pulled away hard.

“I can’t,” he said, already hating himself. “I’m sorry. I absolutely regret that.”

Then he left.

He ignored Alex for a week. No texts. No calls. Nothing. Henry buried himself in duty until his chest hurt.

The royal party was unavoidable. Gold and crystal and too many eyes. Alex showed up anyway, stubborn as hell.

He cornered his security team. “I need to talk to him.”

They exchanged looks. Then one said, “We can give you the big red room.”

Alex nodded. “Do it.”

Henry took his time walking down the hall. Every step felt like punishment. He opened the door, stopped, and swallowed.

“Look,” Henry said, voice low, “I know I owe you a big explanation.”