18. Penelope
Chapter 18
Penelope
The next few days are blessedly uneventful. Work is relatively quiet, and my dreams aren’t haunted by nightmares of the past, so there’s been no need to crawl into anyone’s bed.
Xavier made dinner, and the remains of roast chicken with vegetable and fluffy mashed potatoes are on the table. I feel pleasantly full and warm, bundled up in one of Xavier’s sweatshirts.
“Your hands are freezing,” he said when I came to help him with dinner, his finger wrapped around mine to show me how he wanted the carrots cut.
“I get cold a lot,” I told him, making a face. “And Dominic gets… grumpy when we touch the thermostat.”
Xavier just laughed because we both knew that was an understatement and he went to fetch me one of his sweatshirts to put on.
It’s oversized on me, which was a surprise, considering I’m not a small woman by any metric, and the sleeves slip down over my hands, letting me tuck my cold fingers into the fabric.
It’s comfortable, sitting there all warm while Xavier and Tristan talk about business.
For once, no one is arguing. The two of them tell stories about how they started their businesses and the early days of being in charge and finding their footing.
“I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere by playing it safe,” Xavier is saying, gesturing with the fork in his hand. “There were a hundred different companies already doing what I was doing, and they had more experience and more of a reputation in the industry. If I was going to make it, I had to stand out.”
“But you weren’t in the tech field at first,” Tristan says evenly.
“Right,” Xavier agrees. “That part came later. I started with security, but not the cyber kind. More the kind that involved being able to beat up an idiot threatening someone else. I took the jobs that no one else wanted because the clients were too picky or wanted ridiculous hours or whatever else. Eventually, I made a name for myself.”
“Is it true you were a part of Donna Hamilton’s security detail?” Tristan asks, naming a very popular actress.
Xavier grins. “Sort of. I put her detail together. Hand picked every member of it and headed it up myself when she went to that film festival that turned into a shit show. Not all the celebrities there walked away without getting hurt.”
“But she did.”
He nods. “She did. And I gained the reputation for being pretty unshakeable when the shit hits the fan. It helped a lot with getting more clients and building the business up.”
“How did you turn that into a cybersecurity business?”
“Bella,” Xavier says. “My sister. She was really worried I was going to get myself hurt if I kept doing jobs that required me to put myself between people and danger. I think her exact words were ‘if you end up dying because you took a bullet for some overrated, untalented celebrity, I’ll never forgive you’.”
I laugh at that. I’ve only met Xavier’s sister the one time, but I can definitely see that being something she’d say.
“So I figured if I wanted to save my family some stress, I’d try to branch out. I was always good with computers, and I learned coding in college. People want their data protected with the same kind of intensity that being a glorified bodyguard takes, so it was pretty easy to repurpose the skill set.”
“That’s impressive,” Tristan murmurs, and Dominic nods.
It’s nice to see them getting along like this, and I smile, glancing over at Tristan. He looks like he’s in a good mood, so I take the chance and ask a question.
“What was starting your business like for you?”
His eyes flick to me, and there’s no scorn or anything in them. He’s still not very expressive, but I feel like I’m getting better at reading his mood just from the vibes he’s giving off. He seems relaxed and not annoyed. He takes a drink of his water and sits back in his chair.
“I didn’t start as a bodyguard,” he answers, and if I didn’t know better, I would have said it was a joke. “I jumped into the deep end with the technology, I guess.”
“What does that mean?”
“How much do you know about what my company did before the merger?” he asks.
“Um, you worked on moving companies to the cloud,” I answer. “Their stuff, I mean. Data.”
Tristan nods. “Exactly. But ‘the cloud’ as a concept was a nebulous thing for a while. No one really knew what it meant, and a lot of people who had been using paper files and local systems didn’t really trust it. I showed them that they could.”
“He’s simplifying,” Xavier says, propping his elbow up on the table to rest his head in his hand. “He took a technology that people didn’t really understand and basically put his reputation up as collateral. If something had happened and all his clients’ data was deleted or lost, it would have cost Tristan everything. It was a big risk.”
Tristan shrugs shoulder. “It was necessary. It took a long time of working to build trust in both my services and the concept, and it didn’t always work out the way I wanted to.”
“He built his company from the ground up,” Dominic chimes in. “All the articles about it talked about how you ‘came from nothing’ and ended up taking the tech world by storm. I remember reading about how fast it was growing once it took off and how you had your fingers in everything that was happening. You must have been working yourself to the bone.”
“It was worth it,” is all Tristan says to that. There’s… something in his tone. It’s not quite an emotion I can pick up on, but there’s an edge to his words that makes me think he’s not saying it was worth it because of the money.
Still, I know better than to pry.
“I hate that phrase, anyway,” Tristan continues. “‘Came from nothing’. You don’t have to be born into money to have something.”
“No argument there,” Xavier says, and I nod in agreement.
Dominic nod as well, drumming his fingers on the table. “It makes my story seem lame by comparison. I didn’t grow up fighting the odds the way you two did.”
“You don’t have to be all rags to riches to be valid, Dom,” Xavier says. “You struck out on your own with no help from your father or anything. Most people from families as powerful in the business world as yours is would have gone crawling back for a loan or something to make things easier.”
“You made yourself who you are,” Tristan offers. “There’s plenty to be proud of in that.”
“Yeah. Guess so,” Dominic agrees.
I remember Xavier saying that Dominic doesn’t talk to his parents because they were terrible to him, and I guess it makes sense to learn that they had a lot of money but not a lot of love. It seems like that’s a pretty common story with wealthy people, and it just echoes Tristan’s point that growing up poor doesn’t mean you had nothing.
It’s nice, watching the three of them talk business in a way that doesn’t lead to them arguing. They’re relaxed and comfortable, safe in the privacy of our home, and it’s clear to see that they’re starting to come together more. They all have more in common than they first thought, and the more time we all spend like this, the more apparent that becomes.
They’re bonding, and it means something to me to be here to see it. To be trusted with their stories and their private lives.
I don’t have much to offer with regards to the business talk, they all know how my business failed, after all, but I do have something to add to the moment in general.
“Okay,” I say, standing up from the table. “I made dessert if we’re all ready for it.”
Xavier hops up and starts to help me clear the table, and Tristan and Dominic pitch in as well. I leave them to throwing out containers and loading the dishwasher go to the corner of the counter where my prize is waiting under an opaque cake carrier lid.
The men had more work to do when we got home from the office, and I used that time to make something. This will be the first time they try my baking, and I’m weirdly nervous to share it with them. I want them to like it, since this is one of the few things I have to offer.
Once they’re all back in their seats, I come out carrying a cake.
It looks fairly simple, just a bundt cake formed in a pan with a geometric pattern on the bottom that transferred to the top of the cake once it was taken out of the pan. It smells like lemon and thyme syrup, and the top is shiny with a glaze.
One of them has taken the liberty of setting out plates, and I put the cake in the center of the table and start cutting slices.
“Holy shit,” Xavier says, leaning across the table to get a better look. “You made that? When?”
“When you guys were on that call before dinner. I had to do something to pass the time, and I wanted… I don’t know. I wanted to make you something.”
“It smells amazing.” Xavier inhales deeply. “And looks even better.”
I plop a slice onto his plate, and he doesn’t even wait for the other two to get theirs before he’s forking a bite off and putting it in his mouth. “Holy shit,” he says again, muffled through the cake. “Pen, this is so fucking good.”
“Don’t spray crumbs all over the table,” Dominic says firmly. He takes his own slice and takes a bite, and it’s almost funny to watch his face change as he chews and swallows. His eyebrows climb up into his hairline as he looks at me.
“Is it okay?” I ask.
“For once, Xavier isn’t exaggerating,” Dominic replies. “This is amazing.”
I can feel my face flushing as I serve Tristan a slice and then sit down with my own. I examine the slice with a critical eye, pleased with the lightness of the crumb and the way the syrup has soaked into the cake, leaving it moist but not dense and soggy. It’s studded with a pleasing number of poppy seeds, and they’re distributed throughout the cake and not clumped at the bottom or the top. The sign of good mixing.
It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to just let myself have fun with baking, to make something I wanted to make just because I wanted to do it. To share the result with people. It feels good.
Watching the men enjoy their slices feels even better.
Tristan takes a smaller bite than the other two, and his facial expression doesn’t change, but he does say, “That is very good,” as his eyes meet mine. “There’s something herbal in this.”
“Thyme,” I tell him. “I made a lemon thyme syrup and let it soak into the cake.”
“Huh,” Xavier says, already most of the way through his piece. “I wouldn’t have thought that would taste good, aside from when you’re roasting a chicken or something.”
“A lot of flavor combinations like that can be good sweet or savory,” I say. “It just depends on the ratios and how you add things.”
“Well, you’re a genius,” Xavier continues. “I need another slice immediately.”
I smile, feeling a surge of happiness at their reactions. I was hoping they would like it, but I didn’t dream that their response would be so positive. Even Dominic and Tristan continue to make comments about how good the cake is, and I’m almost wiggling in my seat with pride.
Making dessert is my favorite thing to do, and it feels good to have that appreciated.
Finally, I take my own bite of the cake, and I can see what they mean. The syrup is bright on my tongue, lemony with that slight herbal edge that just rounds the flavor out. It’s sweet, but not overly so, and the cake itself is moist and tender.
I moan a bit at the flavor of it, mentally patting myself on the back.
Immediately, three sets of eyes snap to me, and there’s heat in all three. I sit back a little, caught off guard and surprised.
“What?” I ask. “What did I do?”
“When you make sounds like that…” Dominic says, his voice gone deep and rough-edged in a way that makes me swallow hard.
“It sounds like you’re enjoying more than just cake,” Xavier finishes.
My cheeks flush with heat and I shove another bite of cake in my mouth to distract me from the rush of embarrassment. After I chew and swallow the bite, I glance up at them through my lashes.
“I wouldn’t know what that sounds like,” I admit softly. “I’ve never done that.”
All the three of them look at each other and then back to me.
“Never?” Dominic asks.
I shake my head. “Never.”
“How… the fuck is that possible?” Xavier wants to know. “I mean, no shame or anything if it’s just not your thing, but. What?”
“It’s not that I didn’t ever want to,” I say, fiddling with my fork. “It’s just that… I mean… no one has ever made me… do that. Made me come.” My face feels like it’s on fire admitting all this. “My ex, Wesley, he wasn’t ever that good at it. He thought he was, which was a whole other thing too. I didn’t really have the heart to tell him that what he was doing didn’t really feel that good when he was hyping himself up so much.”
And it didn’t help that my sex drive was at an all-time low with the blockers I was on. Maybe Wesley would have had an easier time of it if it had been easier for me to climax, but after a while I just wanted to fake it to get it over with. I could have touched myself to fill in the gaps, but I just never really felt the need to.
Dominic makes a face and even Tristan rolls his eyes.
“What?” I ask again.
“Nothing, just… we know the type. The man who is so focused on hammering away at a woman that he’s not even checking if she’s having a good time.”
“I mean, I guess I could have spoken up,” I mumble.
“Sure,” Xavier says. “But if he was paying attention, you wouldn’t have had to. He would have known you were just going through the motions for his ego.”
I lick my lips, tasting lemon and sugar on them. “I guess. Part of me wishes I had said something because maybe then he would have tried harder or checked in with me or something. Maybe I would have gotten a least one orgasm out of our relationship.” “I have always wanted to know what it would feel like.”
My face flushes even darker when I realize I said that out loud. This whole conversation has gone off the rails in a way I was not prepared for, and I kind of wish I could go back to when they were praising the cake and we weren’t talking about my nonexistent sex life.
Dominic’s eyes are still on me, and they seem to sear against my skin from how hot the look in them is. There’s something hungry there too, and it makes my breath catch. “Would you like one?” he asks.
My eyes fly open wide and my heart thuds in my chest. Something lower down clenches, and I have to swallow a few times to find my voice. “W-what?”
“I could get you there,” he says. “Give you an orgasm, just so you can see what it’s like.”
I keep waiting for him to say he’s just kidding, or for one of the others to break in and say it’s not a good idea, but no one else speaks. The dining room is silent while Dominic waits for my answer, and it feels like everyone should be able to hear how hard my heart is pounding.
Desire washes through me, so much stronger than I’m used to. “Are you sure you can?” I ask. “Wesley never could?—”
“Wesley sounds like an idiot,” Dominic says simply. He doesn’t look away from me for a second, and his expression is pure confidence. “It won’t be a problem for me.”
And god, that just turns me on even more.