Chapter 14 Cade #2
I pull out a chair for Ansel right next to me.
His new spot. I hope he likes it because I plan on him sitting there a lot in the future.
I sit down and watch as my brothers take their own places.
All except Wylder, who exits the room at the sound of the bell ringing.
Samson grumbles, a reminder that Candace will be joining us for dinner, and that makes everyone groan loudly.
Ansel leans in to whisper to me, “What’s going on? Why is everyone bad-mouthing Candace?”
“She’s my brother’s girlfriend. Her appearance means we have to be on our best behavior. I don’t know why because no one likes her.”
A little dip appears between his brows. “Why?”
“She’s a bitch,” Samson says from his seat opposite us, stabbing his knife into the table and flicking it. “But we try our best to be nice because he likes her.”
Dalton grimaces and then sighs. “I’d prefer it if she were dead.”
“Please,” Matthias huffs, mimicking our older brother. “Behave.”
We all laugh at that, and Wyatt rolls his eyes at his husband.
Suddenly, the door opens and Harley walks in, a little bit of sauce on the side of his lip. His hair is a curly mess, and he looks slightly unkempt. As is usual.
“Got something there, brother.” Matthias taps at his lip.
Harley’s tongue peeks out and swipes it away. “Jules let me taste if I promised not to tell.” He sinks into the seat next to Ansel and grabs the bottle of whiskey from Samson, taking a swig right from the spout.
“Sounds dirty,” I quip.
“It was,” he replies, his eyes twinkling.
Ansel is watching all this with wide eyes, and so I reach down and touch his thigh, gently reassuring him. He’ll get used to it, I think. He has to get used to it. This is my family. And we’re committed to one another.
This is going to go well. It must.
As we all drink, waiting for the appetizer that Harley is secretly raving about, Wylder walks in with Candace at his side.
She, of course, looks impeccable, as if she spent ages putting herself together.
How she’d hate to know that my Ansel wakes up looking this good and doesn’t even have to lift a finger.
Candace ignores us as she sweeps by and takes a seat at the head of the table near Wylder, earning long eye rolls from everyone in attendance. She doesn’t belong here; she’ll never belong. She has no idea we’re The Firm, and I’m sure if she did know, she’d resent it.
She wants Wylder to fit a mold he wasn’t made for.
And it bothers her endlessly that he won’t conform.
“She doesn’t know who we are,” I whisper in Ansel’s ear. “So say nothing about it.”
He knows I mean The Firm by the way he bobs his head, taking another long sip of his wine.
His cheeks are flushed and his eyes slightly wide, but the drink seems to be helping him relax.
I can see it in the way his shoulders drop and his breathing grows steadier.
Perhaps wine wasn’t the right choice, but then again, I haven’t been able to say no to him yet. Can’t see myself learning now.
“Will you introduce me to the guest?” Candace asks Wylder, sounding annoyed that she has to prompt him.
And the way she says “guest” makes me bristle, but I choke down a retort. Last time I insulted her, Wylder refused to assign me any cases that involved murder for an entire month.
It was torture.
Wylder’s head twists around slowly. “Ah, yes. I forgot you haven’t met. It feels like ages since he arrived. This is Ansel. He’s a…friend of Cade’s.”
“Boyfriend,” I retort, and Wylder nods. Ansel doesn’t argue. I take this as a positive.
“Apologies. Yes, boyfriend. Ansel, this is my girlfriend, Candace.”
Candace nods as Ansel sips on his wine, offering a polite nod but nothing else. I’m glad. I don’t want him sharing anything with her.
Unfortunately, Candace isn’t done with my butterfly yet. “Nice to meet you, Ansel. Such an interesting name. Where is it from?”
Ansel looks at her, clearing his throat. “Well, Ansel is Germanic in origin, and it means divine, so…”
Candace eyes him. “Hm, wonderful. My name means queenly.”
Dalton snorts at that, taking a loud gulp of his drink and earning a scowl from Wylder.
“Queen Candace, then.” Ansel lifts his wineglass slightly.
Candace doesn’t get the sarcasm, or if she does, she ignores it.
She turns to Wylder and starts speaking in low tones to him, ignoring the rest of us. My brother leans into her, listening intently. I have no idea what spell she has over him, but I could honestly toss her out with the garbage tonight and not be sad about it.
Just as I think that, Jules appears with a cart, sweeping in with a flourish.
“So sorry I’m late. We had two unexpected guests that I wasn’t informed about, and I had to scramble. But only the best French food for my wonderful friends.”
His soft French accent floats over us, and Ansel perks up.
“He’s a French cook?”
“Mhm.”
He wiggles in his seat, his stomach grumbling loudly. “Oh, I can’t wait. I fucking love French food.”
“Have you been to France?” I ask as Jules begins to explain the dishes, setting them out before each of us.
“I haven’t. I can’t afford it, but once I dated a French guy and the food he made…” His voice trails off at my quiet growl.
“Stop that,” he murmurs. “It was forever ago.”
“Forever isn’t long enough.”
He rolls his eyes at that, and my growl is swallowed down when I see how excited he is as Jules sets the plate in front of him.
“Gougères,” Jules tells him as Ansel eagerly picks up a small cheese puff and places it in his mouth.
“Oh my god,” he groans, and the sound does things to me. Things that wouldn’t be appreciated at the dinner table. “So good.”
Jules beams and sets a plate down in front of me. “So glad I’m appreciated.”
Ansel replies something in French, and Jules gasps.
And then, suddenly, the two of them are conversing, Jules much more fluently than Ansel, but still. It makes my dick leak.
I want him to speak French to me while he bounces on my cock. Oh, the things that would do to me.
Harley is watching them talk too, his eyes dark with a mixture of happiness and jealousy. I reach behind Ansel to cuff my brother around the ear. He meets my pointed look and flushes. Message received. He doesn’t have anything to feel jealous about.
Ansel is mine and no one else’s. Maybe this will be a wake-up call for Harley—if he doesn’t make his move soon, someone else might snap Jules up.
I’d hate to see that happen. Harley isn’t as unhinged as I am…but he has his moments.
When Jules finally moves on, Ansel shoves more food into his mouth, and I can’t help but ask, “Where did you learn French?”
“Middle school and high school. And then…you know, the guy I was with.”
“Was that here in St. Dismas?”
“No, that was before. I came to St. Dismas when I was sixteen with Neo.”
I take that in as he stares at my untouched plate and peers up at me. “You gonna eat that?”
“Would you like one?” He nods, and I hold it up. “You can have it if you renounce the hot French man who cooked for you and pledge allegiance to me.”
He leans forward, pulling the small pastry into his mouth.
“My allegiance is yours.” He winks and then takes another swig of his wine. “Especially if you keep feeding me delicious French food.”
I watch him drink and eat, making sure to do so as well, as we’re pulled into the conversation all around us.
Jules appears once more and brings us a first and second course, Ansel raving about everything he puts in his mouth while Candace subtly complains about each one.
Everyone ignores her, but I can see in the tight expressions around the table that I’m not the only one who’s noticed.
I have to clip Harley’s ear again when he pulls out his dagger, forcing him to put it away again.
Everything is going pretty smoothly until the main course of sole meunière is served.
“This smells amazing. What a meal,” Ansel raves as Candace pushes her plate away.
“I don’t eat fish,” she says curtly, and Jules’s happy demeanor falters. He’s put up with her insults the entirety of dinner, and I can tell that he’s at his wits’ end.
“You ate fish last week, if I recall,” he replies quietly.
“I’m on a fast. You didn’t tell him, Wylder? I mean, really. How could you forget this?”
Her tone is cutting, and Wylder sighs. “I can’t keep up with your diets, my love.”
She frowns, her red lips pursing. I can feel the tension at the table, the low tapping of Samson’s dagger on the underside of the table growing louder—a warning that he’s barely holding it together.
Harley isn’t doing much better. He’s muttering under his breath about skinning her alive, about pulling her out back and detaching her lips from her face.
And knowing him, he’d do it.
I bet Wylder wouldn’t be happy about that.
Dalton seems like the only calm one, but then again, you can never trust him when he’s quiet like this.
“Hm, things are taking a turn, aren’t they?” Ansel says more to himself than anyone else. Because even though he doesn’t quite know us or what we’re truly capable of, he seems to read the room—that we’re seconds away from exploding and tearing this entire night apart.
“No worries,” he says loudly. “I’ll eat it, then.” He leans forward and grabs the plate, dragging it across the table. He puts it right in front of him and sticks a fork in the fish. “I have a great metabolism and can manage another plate. I get why you’re on a diet.”
He shoves the fish into his mouth and groans, his snark getting me hot and bothered. His behavior isn’t hitting the rest of the table in the same way it is me, but there’s more than one smirking face watching him.
“Well,” Candace huffs, staring at Ansel as he devours her food. “You make me sound ungrateful.”