22. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Part 3
T he shift in Morgan was drastic—at least, to Lex it was—and god was he having so much fucking fun exploiting it. That sharp, controlled bastard wasn’t so sharp now, was he? No. How the tables had turned. Now it wasn’t Lex desperate for Morgan’s attention. It was Morgan starving for a piece of Lex, served up on a platter like a five-course meal .
Lex leaned back in the chair, the half-finished PowerPoint presentation swimming in and out of his vision.
Victory was so close he could taste it.
Watching the mask crack, bit by bit? Watching Morgan unravel into a million pieces? Lex could barely contain the excitement—the thrill— buzzing underneath his skin like static electricity.
Morgan could think what he’d like. Could keep building his little illusion of untouchability around him like a king on a crumbling throne. He could wholeheartedly believe he was the one in charge, for all Lex cared. But he wasn’t. Not even close.
Running his fingertips against his lips, Lex smirked.
Poor Morgan. One day you’ll figure out which way this is rigged. You’ll see you can’t live without me. Can’t fucking breathe without me. Then you can talk to me about asserting dominance.
The phone rang, loud and trilling, cutting through the mid-afternoon silence, and Lex forced his attention back to work. Clearing his throat, he picked up the receiver.
“DVC Consultancy, this is Lex speaking.”
The laugh on the other end sounded familiar. Faker than the Morgan around clients and board members.
“This… this is who?”
Three words. That’s all it took. Three fucking words and Lex already knew who it was. His grip tightened on the phone, cheap plastic creaking in his palm.
“I’m terribly sorry. I was told this was Morgan’s extension—Morgan Delacroix. I’m— ”
“Jake, right?” Lex cut in, the name burning his throat on the way out. The claw tore deep into his body, scraping and itching his eyelids.
“Well, my friends call me that. Have we met… what did you say your name was, again?”
“Lex,” he gritted out, reminding himself—over and over—he was at work. He was supposed to be professional. Calm. Polite. Helpful. Not two seconds away from snapping Jake’s neck through the phone line.
This pompous-ass prick.
Lex hadn’t ever seen him, didn’t even know what he looked like, but fuck if he didn’t want to drive his fist into Jake’s face. He wasn’t a violent person. He wasn’t. But having to sit there and listen to Morgan and Jake go back and forth about “sophomore year” ignited something horrible inside of him. Bitter and acrid, gnawing at his gut like a dog with a bone.
Maybe—hindsight twenty-twenty and all that—he had gotten too bold at the gala. Maybe he’d let himself slip. Just for a minute. For a second . Maybe he’d forgotten the game he had been playing for so long.
Maybe.
But right now? He had no right to be so damn angry. None.
And yet, here he was, the sound of Jake’s annoying faux accent curling around his brain like barbed wire, unable to get his heart to calm down enough to swallow. His throat felt tight, dry, and each second Jake kept talking sent another sharp pang straight through him.
“Do you have a moment, Lex?”
Hanging up the phone, Lex groaned and let his head drop onto his folded arms. That conversation was one of the most painful things he’d ever had to endure. God, he hadn’t expected to be on that long with Jake.
All he wanted was a little more information. How the hell Jake knew Morgan. Whether or not it was some college fling, or worse, something that was still going on. Something else he had to worry about. Ten minutes had turned into thirty, then two hours.
It wasn’t like the detour interfered with work. The VIX account was pretty much done—just waiting for Finn to send back the last few sections so they could move on to Sorbett. But, still.
That shit took forever . His whole body ached worse than when he ran the marathon.
On the bright side, he had managed to swing an invitation to “meet up” with Jake a little later. That was the real win. Once they were in the same room—face to face—maybe he could figure out if this asshole was an honest to god threat or some annoying blip on Morgan’s radar.
Jake was the only problem.
Kate? Kate didn’t qualify as a threat. That poor girl didn’t qualify as anything . The longer he was around, observing their sincerely fucked up dynamic, the more sure Lex was that Morgan hated Kate.
Why?
That was still a mystery. But his initial feelings usually weren’t wrong. The way Morgan looked at her like some lost toy he didn’t remember picking up told Lex all he needed to know. Morgan didn’t treat her like a person. Hell, not even a trophy wife. She was nothing more than some nuisance he ended up with.
If Morgan didn’t like her, why was he with her? For appearances?
Lex turned his head to the side, letting his cheek rest on the cool wood of the desk. Honestly? He wasn’t sure how much he cared. Kate was noise, background music. Just like everyone else in Morgan’s life that wasn’t him.
What mattered was not fucking up this exchange before he got what he wanted.
The bar wasn’t what Lex expected. Hell, he wasn’t sure where this place was until he punched the address into his phone and followed the confusing directions. It sat on the edge of downtown, a little, dingy hole-in-the-wall surrounded by older, boarded-up buildings splattered with graffiti tags and “For Lease” signs.
Lex bit down on his tongue, eyeing the flickering street lamp above him. That thing looked like it was on its last leg. Any second now, it was going to give out, raining down enough glass shards to turn someone into a human pincushion. He didn’t want to park his car, let alone get out.
Not that he wasn’t used to this. He’d seen his fair share of seedy spots growing up, sneaking out late at night and getting into all sorts of trouble with his friends during the summer. But this one took the cake .
The front door of the bar looked like it was holding on with a wing and a prayer, that crooked neon sign lighting only the two T’s in the name: Rat’s Nest.
Well, they weren’t lying when they named the joint, that was for damn sure.
Lex exhaled, his breath clouding the cold December air when he finally dragged his feet out of his car. The wind was cold as shit, threatening rain or snow that would freeze the second it hit the ground. But, as always, his curiosity burned hotter than the frost on his lashes. It chewed at him, relentless and persistent, until he gave him, despite his better judgment screaming to drive the hell away.
Slipping the keys into his pocket, he tugged the blazer tighter around himself, muttering curses under his breath. He could barely feel his damn fingers by the time grabbed the splintered handle and yanked open the door.
It was packed for a Tuesday—barely after six-thirty at night—and the heat hit Lex the second he stepped inside. Thick and cloying, almost meaty, like a collection of bodies in a too-small space, or roadkill left behind in the summer sun.
The flashing, colored lights only made it more obnoxious, pulsing in time with whatever shitty alternative music blasting over the speakers. Someone had cranked the bass too high, the thump bouncing off the walls and into his chest, churning his already upset stomach.
And it was all men.
Everywhere.
Even the bartender was a guy.
Oh. Oh, shit .
Lex’s breath stuck, his heart doing a weird little flip. Okay. So maybe he wasn’t as straight as he’d thought. Not with all the crap that had gone down recently. Not with all the crap he had personally started.
But… this?
His feet froze on the sticky floor, eyes darting over to the lame-ass black-light posters. He wasn’t uncomfortable—not exactly . Not really. That’s what he kept telling himself, anyway, but his sweaty palms and the faint prickle along the back of his neck said otherwise.
He swallowed hard, willing his body to keep moving. To look like he belonged here and he wasn’t some weird psycho out on a bender. Thank fuck for the guy at the end of the bar, waving his hand in the air.
“I looked you up online,” the guy—Jake—said when Lex finally made his way over.
Jake’s voice didn’t match the face Lex had pictured. Not even close. Lex had imagined someone with greasy, slicked-back hair wearing one of those suits Morgan liked—designer without being pretentious. The kind of guy who reeked of money and cologne.
The real Jake looked almost… sweet. Some kindergarten teacher who wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time. Waving brown hair curled over the edge of an oversized turtleneck and a splattering of freckles that made Lex less self-conscious about his own.
That over-eager smile, though? The one stretched across Jake’s face that looked like he was just fucking thrilled to be here? It set Lex’s teeth on edge.
Too friendly .
“The Gazette ran an article about the company,” Jake continued, leaning forward, “and I saw the photos from the charity gala. I must say, you look even better in person.”
Lex forced his eyes shut or else he’d roll them. When had he given the wrong impression? He’d been courteous over the phone. That was it.
Maybe… maybe Jake wasn’t hitting on him. Maybe this was how this guy operated—a sleazy, overly-charming default setting.
“Thanks,” Lex muttered after a second too long. He slid onto the stool, draping the blazer over his lap. Every muscle in his back was coiled tight, his fight-or-flight instincts on high alert. “Also, thank you for inviting me out. I appreciate you taking the time out of your schedule.”
“No need to be so formal. Unless you’re recording our conversation.”
“What? No. I wouldn’t—”
“Easy, pretty boy. I was kidding.”
Nope. That was definitely leaning into flirting territory. And Lex didn’t appreciate that shit.
His fingers curled into the sleeve of the blazer, nails digging into the button to keep him tethered to the here and now. He swallowed down what he wanted to say—what would’ve gotten him tossed onto the street headfirst—and reminded himself why he was here. Why he couldn’t afford to lose it.
Blowing up now wasn’t an option.
Instead, he plastered on his company-wide smile, the one that felt like plastic and nodded .
“Buy me a drink and I’ll let you pick my brain for an hour or two,” Jake murmured, his black eyes roaming all over Lex’s face.
“What do you like?”
“Anything you’ll put in your mouth will probably taste just fine to me.”
Lex felt the nausea crawl up his throat, settling heavy and rancid on his tongue. He had to physically stop himself from gagging, lips pressed together.
What the actual fuck?
Whatever crap Lex pulled at the bar was one thing. He’d said and done some shit that was cringe. But this? This was over the top. Embarrassing. No one—no one with even half a brain cell— would fall for these lame-ass lines.
Rubbing his free hand over his eyes, he focused on the drinks as the bartender set them down. That vodka tonic couldn’t have looked less appetizing. He hated vodka. Hated the smell, hated the way it tasted like nail polish remover and too many nights spent crying in the pool house.
In the past, he’d been a fan of rum. Spicy and a little sweet. But after the cabin… he couldn’t look at brown liquor the same again. Couldn’t stomach any alcohol, actually. Which was fine by him.
“How did you meet Morgan?” Lex asked finally, his voice even despite the irritation simmering beneath.
Jake frowned. “That’s what you were so adamant to talk to me about? You know,” he paused, sitting back on the stool, “I have a younger brother right about your age. Benji? I’m sure you two went to school together. ”
The name rang a bell, but the last thing Lex wanted to do was get off-topic. Reminiscing about high school wasn’t his top priority.
“I’m not here to talk about me.”
“That’s a shame.”
Jake took another sip, drawing small circles over the scarred bar top. “Morgan and I had a Psych class together at the beginning of sophomore year. He kept to himself back then. Quiet, you know. Contemplative.” His tone softened into that lazy, dreamy lilt that Lex recognized all too well. The same one Morgan used when he was buttering someone up.
God that sounded so much better in the woods, coming out of Morgan’s mouth.
“He had an aura about him. Like there was some bit of sharpness lingering out of reach. I was terrified to speak to him, but after a while I did. Still can’t say for certain if that was my best decision, but it did make things interesting for a while.”
Lex forced the smallest, tiniest sip of vodka he could manage. The fucking reverence in Jake’s voice was enough to make him want to throw the goddamn glass at the wall.
“And then you two became friends?”
“Friends?” Jake snorted, putting down the half-empty glass. “No. We skipped that part entirely. We went straight to fucking like rabbits every chance we got. My dorm. A motel. The library. Whatever little space of peace we could carve out for ourselves.”
Raising his eyebrows, he tilted his head to the side.
“We didn’t get along, verbally or mentally, but our bodies… they craved one another. ”
Lex’s gut twisted and the jealousy came back again, deeper and darker than ever. He knew they’d fucked in the past—knew it before he ever stepped foot inside this bar.
But hearing it again? Like Morgan was some weird human equivalent of a god and not like the couple of drunk frat boys that Jake had made them out to be?
The fire burned hotter now, spreading through his chest and arms until his grip tightened on the glass. Drawing in one slow, deliberate breath after another, he choked the knot in his throat down. He had to keep it together.
“He has that effect on people. Sucking you in, burying inside of your head,” Jake said after a minute, his fingers sliding under the blazer to rest on Lex’s thigh. “I’ve seen that look before. It’s the same one you have all over your face.”
“The hell’s that mean?” Lex spat, the anger threatening to break free. He brought his leg closer to his body, trying to distance himself, but all that did was bring Jake closer as well.
Smirking, Jake leaned over. His lips brushed Lex’s cheek—chapped, stale—reeking of cigarette smoke. “Oh, come now. Don’t be shy and pretty, that’s just too good an offer to pass up.”
“Buddy, when I tell you there’s been a fucking misunderstanding and you got the wrong idea—” Lex started, but that’s as far as he got.
A fist came out of nowhere—absolute, fucking nowhere—and the crack of bone connecting with bone echoed loud enough to make Lex flinch .
Jake suddenly wasn’t on the stool anymore. No. He was sprawled on the floor, cradling his face. Blood poured between his fingers, running down his palms and staining the oversized, gray sleeves red.
The conversations around them stopped like someone had slammed the mute button. For a second, panic set in. A bar fight. Shit . That’s all Lex needed. He had no interest going toe-to-toe with the guys he saw in the corner on his way in, or the couple of huge dudes on the other side of the bar. No thank you.
But when he turned to get off the stool, he almost stopped breathing.
It wasn’t a biker or a burly guy. Wasn’t some drunk asshole raging for a fight.
It was Morgan.
Just Morgan.
He stood there, still as a photograph, fist clenched at his side. Blood speckled his knuckles, his gaze fixed on Jake’s body. And it was his eyes that froze Lex in place.
They were dead. Cold.
The same look Lex had seen in the kitchen months ago. The one that didn’t belong to a person but to something else . Something darker. Something reserved for the woods and little folders tucked into locked drawers.
“You said you wanted to go to the bar with me again,” Morgan murmured, his voice so quiet the music nearly swallowed it whole, “but you didn’t want to go alone. Remember? This is our third wheel.”