Chapter Three
Misunderstandings, Meaningful Emails, and Mounting Insecurities
Elliot
I wake up way earlier than I have to. Turning to my side, I look at the empty bed.
Nicholas messaged late last night that he wouldn’t be making it back.
Figures. Considering how little time he's spent in his apartment over the past two weeks, he might forget the way back if he spends another night here.
I hike the comforter up to my nose. It’s unseasonably cold today, colder than any season in the city. I close my eyes and give sleep another try.
Matt’s place is very close to Nicholas’s apartment, so it makes sense he didn’t want to drive all the way here after what must have been an exhausting meeting.
And not just because his friends are exhausting, which they are.
But I doubt they’re exhausting for him. No, he fits in perfectly with his quirky secret agent werewolf teammates.
But the topic of conversation must have been heavy, considering he hasn’t spent much time with them since the day it all went wrong. They must have questions and concerns. He killed one of his close friends. And for what? To save me.
I blow out a frustrated breath and turn again. I adjust the pillow so it’s comfortably fluffy.
Maybe the distance finally made him realize it wasn’t worth it after all. What will he do then? Arrest me or just never show his face again. I hate every cell in my body for knowing it’d be worse to never see him than to rot in prison my whole life.
At least, that way, he can visit me, and I can convince myself I must be worth something if he cares enough to show up.
Someone bangs at the door. I snatch the pillow from the other side of the bed and pull it over my head. My senses are immediately assaulted by his sharp scent. I inhale a lungful even if it’s the biggest cliché in the world.
Before my eyes can drift into peaceful slumber again, my bedroom door bangs loudly. “Elliot, time to rise and shine.” Sam sounds too cheery for this early in the morning. I check my phone. Okay, eight isn’t that early. But no one needs to be this happy at any time in the entire day.
I chuck the blanket away to find myself sweating. Who even uses a blanket in this weather? I remind myself to remove it from the bed, so I don’t accidentally smother myself with it or accidentally drown in my own sweat in my sleep.
I curse Sam and his entire bloodline on my way to the door. It becomes even more vile when I open it to find him fresh and ready, a big grin on his face.
“What are you so grumpy about? I should be the one sleeping in and being woken up with a hot cup of coffee. I’m the one who traveled across oceans to check on his best friend,” he says dramatically, walking towards the kitchen.
I don’t even bother rolling my eyes. Just curse my fate that made me surround myself with morning people. “Why are you up anyway?” I take a seat on the kitchen stool, letting him flutter around with my utensils and groceries.
He takes out some fruits from the refrigerator and closes it behind him, turning to look at me with a surprised look on his face.
“I’ve never seen your kitchen so stocked.
I’m scared to say, but Nick the hoverer might have adopted you.
” He continues to collect ingredients for whatever he’s making, slamming the cabinets at his wake.
I do roll my eyes this time. “He doesn’t hover. He’s just tall.”
Sam gives me a look of disbelief. Yeah, I wouldn’t believe me either. Nicholas hovers when he thinks there might be danger, which apparently is all the time lately. “I love that you decided to defend that part. I think I need to meet this boy officially. Make sure his intentions are pure.”
I ignore him completely. I keep forgetting that’s the only way to deal with him, and rest my head on the counter. There’s a sliding noise too close to my face. I look up to find a cup of coffee. Taking it, I focus on the bitterness coursing through my body. That’s what mornings should be like.
When I blink up, Sam is huddled over a pan, something sizzling on it. A sweet scent wafts through the air, mingling with the wonderful aroma of coffee. I crinkle my nose. “Who eats French toast in the morning?”
Sam snorts. “Yeah, yeah, complain about the food someone is kind enough to make for you, why don’t you? And everyone eats French toast for breakfast. It’s literally breakfast food. Forgive me if all of us can’t make waffles from scratch first thing in the morning.”
Maybe I have gotten too spoiled. “I guess French toast will have to do then.”
He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath. I only get ‘petulant’, ‘brat’ and ‘annoying’ and decide to leave it at that. I sip my coffee silently, watching him navigate my kitchen like a pro. I do remember him taking a culinary course in the last decade, so he might as well be a pro.
The whole house smells sticky sweet by the time he brings two plates over to the counter where I’m sitting and takes the stool next to mine.
“Here, Your Highness.” He slides the plate in front of me.
“You could have at least gotten me another cup of coffee,” I complain as I take a bite of the toast. It’s pretty good, a little too sweet for me. But do I even have a right to complain? “They could have used more butter.” I do anyway.
Sam chews on his toast and makes a satisfied noise. He’s exaggerating. “Yeah, well, why don’t you have your lover boy come over and make breakfast?”
“He’s busy today. I think. Anyway, I need to go to the clinic soon.
If you don’t have any plans, you can come for lunch, and we can contact Adrian,” I smoothly change the subject.
Not that I needed to. Nicholas has his own life.
He can’t just drop everything to make breakfast for me every morning.
That’s stupid. And impractical. And it’ll get annoying very quickly if my current mood is any sign.
Sam looks up from the plate he is a second away from making love with and raises an eyebrow at me. “Oh now, were you really fighting yesterday? Tell Daddy all about it.”
I glare at him, the most vicious glare I can manage when my eyes are still fighting to stay open, until he throws up his hands in defeat and goes back to eating.
“So, you’re coming for lunch?”
“Unless you’ll make me cook it.”
“I’ll pick something up.” I throw him a bone.
“In that case, I’ll be there. Now, I’m going back for my post-breakfast nap.” He picks up his plate that’s now completely clean, not even a crumb in sight. I’m sure it’s mostly to show me up.
I shrug and continue slowly crunching away the rest of my breakfast.
***
Ashley barges into my office without knocking because why would you choose to listen to your boss and give him privacy when you can do whatever you want? It’s not like we live in a civilized society with rules and codes of conduct.
“Why is the hot man from New York back? Did you and Detective Sexy break up?” Her face emits so much judgment that I won’t be surprised if she’s an enthusiastic subscriber to the Scientology Today newsletter. Don’t ask me how I know the name. That was the last time I pushed Sam that far.
I slam my laptop shut and start unpacking the takeout containers, so I can show him there are ways to do things for your friends without rubbing their noses in it. “Detective Sexy? Getting lazy with the names already?”
“Detective McMuscles, Officer Beefcake, Mr. Bench Press, Major Muscles. Oh, and Beef Supreme. Wait, that’s not the point. Don’t distract me. What did you do this time? Why can’t you be a bit nice to him?”
“I know, right?” Sam walks in behind her. Ashley turns to glare at him. “I’ve been telling him to be nice to me for years. Everyone can see it.” He parks his ass on one of the empty chairs. Leaning in, he stage whispers, “Why is your goth assistant glaring at me?”
I wave him off. “Oh, that’s just her face. You get used to it,” I say loudly.
“No, I’m glaring because I’m an Ellick shipper and you’re being a roadblock.” Ashley turns and leaves, slamming the door behind her.
Sam shrugs. “Sooo… Ashley seems nice. Seriously toned down some of that weirdness since I last saw her.” He picks out everything he likes and leaves the rest for me.
I nod. “She’s been working hard on herself.”
“You’ll let me know if I need to lock my bedroom door at night, right?” Sam pops an orange chicken into his mouth.
He’s just left fried rice and Chicken Lo Mein for me. “What’s the fun in that? In fact, I’ve been thinking about giving Ashley a spare key. She’s just the best assistant, you know? She’s ready for the next step.”
Sam slides a container of Egg Rolls towards me. See, you don’t always have to be aggressive to get your threats across.
“Yeah, I’ll tell you. She’s harmless, though.” I happily dig into my lunch. “I think.”
Sam hums but doesn’t stop eating. I can see his mind grinding, and I hate it. If I find a single Ellick merch in my house, Ashley would be the last of his problems.
We eat while Sam tells me about the time he accidentally joined the Russian Mafia and had to seduce a henchman to get his help faking his death long enough to escape the country. I have so many questions, but honestly, it’s beneath me. I should be used to this by now.
“Why couldn’t you just pay him, though?” I blurt out anyway. I look down to find my food is almost gone. Damn it, I was so focused on Sam, I couldn’t even enjoy the best Chinese in the city.
“Wait, did I say I ‘had’ to seduce him? Nah, that was just a choice.” He winks at me.
Serves me right for asking. I shake my head and start cleaning my desk. Sam joins me, but he makes more mess than he helps me. “There’s no hurry. You can go slower. There’ll be less mess then,” I shout at him.
“Mess is a sign of a good time,” Sam shouts back.
“Stay still. I got this.” I slap his hand until he stops helping, and finally throw everything in the trash can. Then Sam slides a chair beside me, and I open the laptop to email Adrian Sinclair. Or his law firm, to be precise.