Chapter 14
“ D inner is served,” I wait behind Hina. Arms warped behind my back and actively swallowing my saliva.
They’re all waiting around the table like starved leeches when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Ma.
“You can take calls,” Katarina says behind me. She pulls her hair up in a ponytail. “Just not have access to social media while you’re here.”
In high school, the popular girls never talked to me.
They didn’t hate me, but I was usually ignored by them.
Imagine this, big frizzy hair, oversized glasses, an extremely dark moustache, and sweat pits that continue haunting me to this day.
Definitely wasn’t the eye of the tiger during everyone else’s peak year.
“But then again,” she looks back with what I can only describe as a sterile smile. “Maybe don’t take calls if you’re not okay with them cutting it to fit their narrative.”
“Do they do that?” I ask, appalled .
Katarina eyes the table, “You’d be surprised at what they don’t do.”
“Stop being a bitch and let’s eat,” Hina glares at Katarina.
I protest, “She wasn’t?—”
Hina grabs my arm, dragging me to a chair.
The last to enter the dining room is Dean. When he finished making food, he muttered that he’s gonna wash up quickly. His hair is wet, and he changed into a simple black, long-sleeved top that I am drooling over.
Even if he wore a garbage bag, I’d salivate.
Keep feminism in your pants, girl.
He needs bigger shirts. He’s inconveniencing the material of the fabric by getting a size too small.
How muscular is this man for his shirts to look like that on him?
We pull into our seats.
Dean settles into the one beside me.
As if I’m not already annoyed by him.
Rhys takes the seat across from me.
One of the crew members claps his hands together. “Rhys and Dean, can you guys switch seats?”
Dean fixes a napkin onto his lap. Without looking up, he utters a deep, guttural, resounding, “No.”
Poor crew member.
His cheeks grow red with embarrassment, shuffling back behind the camera. I look at Dean, telepathically cursing at him.
He ignores my burning gaze.
No social awareness, I tell you.
“What did you think of the first challenge?” Shaan clears his throat, placing a couple cut pieces of well-done steaks on his plate before passing the dish to Hina .
Hina busies herself with the dish. “Tell me why a fun activity became stressful? I was sweating balls.”
Rhys’ laugh echoes across the dining room. “It was actually pretty smart. It seems impossible to think the same as someone else.” A sheen of surprise fills his features. “Nova, did you notice the painted triangular panels on the Chapel Bridge?”
I can’t believe he remembers the time I talked about seventeenth century art.
Hina hands the dish over to me. “We didn’t get to see the bridge yet, but is it as beautiful as pictures?”
Rhys nods, “Better than the pictures.”
“I’m jealous!”
My hand stops midway when I realize I’m putting meat on Dean’s plate. I don’t dare look up.
Rolling my lips inward, I pretend it’s normal and add meat onto my plate before handing it off to Rhys.
Unfortunately as I turn my head to listen to Katarina, I’m met with Dean’s gaze entirely on me. Some strong part of me is glaring, but his eyes are full of softness.
I surrender instantly and pretend I don’t see it.
Dean needs to stop. I don’t know how to navigate this professional relationship outside of work. We went from never seeing each other in the office to now spending eight full weeks together.
Do you know what can happen in eight weeks?
Murder, death, castration. All of the above and none of the above.
Taking effort to blink his face and bright lights away, “This is the perfect time to tell all of you that I suck at games. And I mean, I’m absolutely terrible. One time my sisters and I played Anomia with my family friends and somehow I kept losing.”
They start laughing and I’m proud of the efforts at redeeming myself.
“Anomia’s hard,” Dean grumbles next to me.
My chest vibrates at its highest setting, knocking out every other organ that’s in the way with his acknowledgement. It’s small, nothing really, but my body does this thing where it’s squeezing the life out of my blood vessels.
Nervously chuckling. “Yeah, well…” I take a bite of the steak and that's it. I’ll never be satisfied with food ever again. “Anyways, my sisters tell me that it’s whatever, but I know secretly they’re laughing at what a fool I make of myself. So, heads up to all of you. Avoid being my partner.”
Dean’s covered arm brushes mine. His pretty tattoos carefully pour water into my empty glass.
Language becomes insignificant. Words become unattainable.
His action becomes my main source of communication and I’m gawking at him.
“Thank you,” I say because the cameras are watching. Real people are looking.
Totally not because this hunk of a man—who I’m extremely irritated by—is being a hyperaware gentleman. Who knew I’d be thirsting over a man using a jug ?
Stay mad at him.
He hates you.
You have to hate him too.
But when he grabs a napkin to clean the drop of water that’s dripping down the glass, I’m not sure if I have the strength in me to hate him.
Rhys takes the jug from him with a stern look. “Dean,” he says. “You’re the only one who hasn’t talked yet.”
Dean doesn’t reply.
“He’s shy,” Katarina says.
Okay and you know that how ?
She’s not wrong.
Okay and does it look like I asked?
The doorbell rings just then.
Hina and I smile at each other, “Another letter?” I ask with giddiness.
I move to get up but am hit with the sudden tornado of what might be low iron or the prodrome stage of a migraine.
Shaan comes back with a letter this time.
It reads: “Fellow Love? Check! members, you are now allowed to reveal your age and jobs to each other.”
Dramatic gasps echo from Shaan to Hina.
“I’ll go first,” Katarina takes a decent sip of her water. “I’m twenty-seven and I’m a full-time makeup artist and part-time freelance model.”
“That’s very cool,” I say with a smile. It’s super cool. And crazy hectic. I’m stunned.
“I had a feeling you were in your twenties,” Rhys adds. “I’m glad I was right.”
Katarina smirks, “Bet you were hoping I was close to your age instead.”
“Do you think I’m fifty?”
“Hm,” she hums. “Close to forty is more like it.”
Another deep, throaty laugh. “You’re not wrong, I’m thirty.”
“Oof, I knew you were giving hot daddy.”
I choke on my soup. “Hina!” Outrageous laughter booms through the room. “Someone needs to put a filter on your mouth.”
“Or maybe he,” she points at Rhys with her spoon. “Can undo the filter on my mouth, what do you say daddy man?”
Despite her joke, Rhys isn’t bothered, and he also doesn’t reply. Not to her nor Katarina. “I’m a Detective Sergeant, working at the Calgary Police Service in Alberta, Canada.”
He got a promotion. Last year, he was a police officer.
“Old, sexy, and a detective?” Hina chuckles, “This is how most pornos start.”
“What’s a Detective Sergeant?” I take another gulp of water.
Rhys scratches his goatee. “Sometimes I’ll go over closed cases.” His eyes dart to Dean. I can’t decipher his expression. “And sometimes we’re handed cases from the boss.”
“You’re giving major Christian Grey vibes,” Hina adds more.
This girl… I hide my smile behind a palm.
“I’m not a billionaire, though.” Rhys’ brows furrow together. Poor, innocent man.
“But you definitely have a red room with chains and things.” She wiggles her brows, “Can I volunteer as tribute?”
Rhys shakes his head, pouring himself a glass of water. “The only chains I have are handcuffs and no,” he answers. “I like to pick who I want myself.”
She thrashes a hand over her heart in fake agony. “You wound me, kind sir. But a dominant man is a prominent prospect in my book.”
Katarina chokes. “And what’s that? The book of whores?”
He lifts his glass of water out and they cheers .
The table goes silent.
Hina’s chin juts out. “You would know.”
“Okay,” I call out lightly. “Let’s take a breath, yeah?”
Both girls look at me and I instantly regret opening my mouth. Fire breathing dragons. But damn me if I’m not curious to find out what happened between them.
“What about you, Nova?” Shaan clears his throat.
I ignore the drop in my stomach. “I’m twenty-four,” I put my spoon down and rub my palms over my thighs under the table. “And I work as a literary editor at Berkenlin Publishing in Toronto.”
The lie is smooth and tastes like pre-processed chocolate. It turns bitter when I notice Dean’s scowl deepen from my peripheral vision.
Don’t tell them. Please.
I wait for him to say it, to spoil my lie with the truth, but he doesn’t.
“Editor?” Shaan nods carefully like he’s wondering what that brings to the table for him. “That’s a prestigious job. You were good in school.”
I nod like OSAP didn’t put me on academic probation my final year.
“That’s… wow ,” Hina shakes her head. “You’re the equivalent of a Harvard student to me right now.”
“An editor isn’t that cool,” I say with a forced laugh. “I look at books and things, that’s it.” There’s more to it and I would’ve found out if I stayed.
“Books are like the new social media,” Rhys pushes. “Editors are the gatekeepers behind stories, you’re the reason why many young talented artists make it through the publishing industry.”
I swallow rocks. “Well, yeah. I guess so,” I mutter. “Who’s next?”
“I’m twenty-five,” Shaan looks directly at me. “And I am a Tamil actor.”
Oohs and ahh’s .
But what is Dean thinking right now?
I’m scared to look. Can someone else tell me?
“Well,” Hina claps her hands together. “I’m twenty-seven, same as Kat over there. And I’m a model.”
“I knew it,” I beam. “You scream model energy.”
She winks, “Right? I have that aura to me.”
“That and of a five-year-old child who can’t keep her mouth shut at the dinner table. ”
All heads turn to Katarina, except Deans. I’m getting tired of pointing that out.
“It’s adorable,” she saves herself by saying. “Nova’s right, you have elitist model energy.”
“Don’t you mean elite?” Rhys asks.
Katarina’s smirk finds a haughty edge. “Nope.”
She then turns to her left. “What about you, Dean?”
I fill water up to the rim of my glass.
“Thirty-two,” he grunts. “Head of Security at Vuk Securities.”
He doesn’t specify more than that. Not where it’s located, not how he got the job, nothing.
“Smart man,” Katarina leans back against the chair. “What university did you go to?”
Nonchalantly, I side-eye him.
Because I, too, am curious about this. Sue me . I barely know anything about Dean other than he nurtures growls and grumbles for a living.
“None,” he says bluntly.
“Self-made man, then?” Hina clears her throat. “Admirable.”
“Something much more important to add to who you are, Dean?” Rhys’ gaze pins Dean down. “Don’t you think everyone has the right to know their housemate was in prison for four years?”
Pin. Drop. Silence.
Not even Hina has words.
I fling my gaze to Dean’s side. His jaw ticks. Once. Twice. Three times.
Ex-convict? In the two years I’ve been working with Vuk Securities, I never knew this.
Albeit, it’s never been a topic of interest but no one in the office mentions it either.
From the faint scar above his brow, to the thickness of his body, to the tattoos curving against his past…
There’s stereotypical signs, but it never crossed my mind.
What do you think of felons?
Oh God. Cal asked me in front of Dean. For what?
To make him uncomfortable? My blood boils.
How dare Cal? People make mistakes and sure, Dean is no Muhammad Ali, but he works hard.
I’ve heard people say he doesn’t leave the office until everyone is gone—even the janitors.
Mrs. Vuk mentions that he comes over every weekend and spends time playing chess with her.
Azar says he doesn’t talk much but anytime he mentions what he needs, it’s at his door the next morning.
I know nothing about Dean as an ex-convict, but I know of him as a man and let me tell you, he’s a damn good one at that.
Whatever vendetta Callahan has with his brother, he needs to grow the heck up and deal with it like a human being and not a prick who doesn’t know which type of trash he belongs in.
Not recycling, I tell you.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say while looking at that sharp, bearded jaw.
Rhys shakes his head in disbelief. “We can never be too careful.”
Dean’s ear twitches and from watching him without realizing it in the past year, I know he doesn’t like the attention one bit.
Then why is he here?
“My dad’s an ex-convict,” I casually throw out. “I didn’t know him until I was ten years old. But guess what,” my tone sharpens. “He now spends his time farming fish.”
Rhys visibly flinches at that. “Nova, I didn’t mean?—”
“You did,” I don’t fidget from the eye contact. “And that’s okay because we all assume the worst. We’re humans after all. And ,” I look at the group. “Don’t we all deserve second, third, and fourth chances in life?”
“Of course,” the sound comes from Katarina. But soon the rest of them follow .
When the conversation starts flowing again (thanks to Hina), Rhys excuses himself from the table, and I go back to jabbing a fork into cold meat.
My knee bangs against the table when a rough hand grabs mine from underneath.
Coughing, “Sorry!”
Pulling my hand away, I swallow gulps of water. Not daring to look at the culprit.
But he does it again once the coughing subsides. This time I feel it.
The hiss of our touch. A bottle of soda popping open. Carbonation sizzling through the air.
Dean turns my hand palm side up and traces out the words.
Thank you .