3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
Dax
When Bianca dragged me from my office, I should’ve just ignored her instead of letting her pull me into her dramatics. The place wasn’t burning to the ground. Nobody had choked on a piece of food, had an allergic reaction, or been stabbed in the parking lot… None of that.
A customer tried to skip out on their bill. It didn’t happen very often, but it was an unfortunate expectation in this kind of business. Regardless, the restaurant was doing so well it wasn’t like it would take a hit from one unpaid tab. And it’s not like the money mattered anyway. Not really.
Normally, I would have told her to get back to work and leave it alone, but I was already in a shit mood as it was.
Every year, this day would put me on edge.
It filled me with rage and grief, and I always tried my best to stay away from as many people as I could.
That was a lot harder to do during the Friday night rush.
It had been exactly twenty years. Twenty whole goddamned years since we lost her.
It didn’t matter what else happened on this day.
Everything felt fucking personal. Especially here in this place.
The place that was supposed to be for her.
For my father. Recreating their legacies was both my penance and my retribution. My purgatory.
Any other day, I would have just blown it off. Today just wasn’t one of those days.
I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting when I followed Bianca into the hallway. All I know is that I certainly hadn’t anticipated Lucy Conrad.
The way she looked up at me with those caramel-colored eyes beneath thick lashes made my pulse racket through my veins.
Her long, shiny brown hair cascaded around her petite waist, perfectly pouty pink lips, shapely legs, which that fucking dress she was wearing did nothing to hide.
She was stunning. But that wasn’t why I decided to give her a break.
It was something more. She had a fire to her—a light. Even after dealing with Bianca’s bitchy semantics, she stood her ground. It impressed me as much as it terrified me.
She was trouble. I sensed it as soon as I laid eyes on her. People like that could use their fire to burn down the entire fucking world if they wanted to.
I should have told her to get the hell out of my restaurant and to never come back. Normally, I would have.
It just wasn’t one of those days.
I led her through the packed restaurant to where the kitchen was. I held open the double doors, and the cozy hum of laughter and clinking dishes vanished, replaced by back-of-house chaos.
The Friday night rush of the kitchen was always my favorite. It was the most chaotic, and chaos was where I thrived. Kitchen fans roared, pots and pans clanged against metal, fire hissed, and voices shouted in every direction.
To the left, a line of cooks tossed greens in frying pans, showered spices over massive stock pots, and garnished vibrant plates with surgical precision.
To the right, servers and bussers moved in synchronized frenzy.
They loaded trays with steaming dishes, using tongs to tuck warm bread onto plates with olive oil and vinegar.
“Hands!” a cook yelled, and a server stepped forward to load a perfectly plated lineup onto a tray. He moved with the grace of a dancer, carefully lifting each plate from beneath the orange-hued heat lamp.
“Watch your feet in those shoes!” I called over my shoulder.
“Not exactly dish-washing material.” There were probably a dozen safety violations I was committing by letting this girl into the kitchen.
I knew better than this. And even though I couldn’t explain why, that fire of hers set something ablaze inside of me I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“We normally have someone back here full-time,” I told her. “But our dishwasher quit without notice. The cooks have been taking over the shifts, but it’s all yours tonight.” I glanced down at her. “Do you know how to work a machine like this?”
She nodded slowly and I knew she was lying, but she was too damned stubborn to admit it. Poor fucking girl had no idea what she was in for. A particularly dark part of me loved that.
“You’ll need to move fast, as you can see, the dishes pile up pretty quick.” I gestured to the stacks of plates that towered high along the stainless steel counter. “Any questions?”
A strike of humanity hit me as I silently urged her to call it quits in my head, but it was immediately drowned out by the more twisted part of me. The dark, selfish part that wanted to see what she did next.
She shook her head. “No…” Those warm, toffee-colored eyes were obstinate.
I couldn’t help myself.
“No…?”
“No, Chef.” She gave me a little glare, and her pretty lips twisted into a scowl.
Something about that sent a wave of electricity straight down my spine, and I knew I had to get out of there before I did something even more stupid than I already had.
When I made my way back to the office, I just sat at my desk for a moment. I was such a stubborn asshole. I should have gone back to the kitchen and told her to leave.
I knew better than to let my pride get the best of me, and I wanted to wring Bianca’s neck for putting me in that position in the first place.
I didn’t know why I even kept her around this place. She was a complete pain in the ass, but Bianca and I understood one another. She had demons. So did I. She worked hard and kept the regulars happy, but she could be a real venomous piece of work when she wanted.
I ignored the irksome voice in the back of my head that told me to go relieve the girl—Lucy.
Instead, I busied myself by putting in my produce and meat orders for the week.
I sent an email to one of the local fishermen requesting samples of scallops for the rotating menu and flipped through a catalog from a liquor distributor Ricky had been begging me to work with.
I rubbed my temples and straightened my spine.
There was always shit to be done around here, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of it tonight.
I cracked my neck and stared at the ceiling, the noise of the restaurant faint through the closed door.
I was allowed to have one day. One day per year where I could just…stew.
I’d given it all up for this. I did it because it was the life that had always been intended for me. And for the most part, I enjoyed it. It was busy. It was mundane. It was an honest living that spread joy to the people who walked through those doors.
It was what she would have wanted for me.
That’s what I had to convince myself.
A knock sounded from the door. The aggravation that had been building under my skin came back at a frightening pace.
“Bianca, I swear to fucking god if you don’t leave me the hell alone—”
The door cracked open.
“Sorry, brother,” a deep voice came through the frame. “I don’t know who Bianca is, but you probably don’t want to see me either.”
Sheets of ice the size of glaciers plummeted into my stomach. I swung in my chair, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up straight.
Clay fucking Parker. The mountain-sized man squeezed his way through the doorframe.
He looked more or less the same as he did the last time I saw him.
His hair was now buzzed down to a thick close cut, his beard gone.
A stranger would assume he spent most of his day in the gym, but I knew better than anyone his physique wasn’t attributed to vanity.
I guessed he looked a little older, a little rougher around the edges.
There were probably fresh scars hidden under his clothes, and new memories that looked painfully like my life before this.
“What are you doing here, Clay?” I knew I was being curt. I didn’t want to be. He didn’t deserve it. But seeing him and anyone else involved with my past brought back a flood of memories I didn’t want to relive.
Especially not on this fucking day.
He walked into the office, taking in the space.
It wasn’t much. A few generic paintings on the walls.
My desk with a couple of chairs in front of it and some filing cabinets.
The only thing unusual was the display of monitors with security feeds that were more appropriate for the Pentagon than a restaurant in North Beach.
He nodded toward the screens. “I see you haven’t changed your style, Dax.” He worked his way around my desk and took a seat in one of the chairs opposite me, dwarfing it with his large frame. He didn’t shake my hand. Didn’t try to give me a hug.
Thank god.
“What do you want?” I asked, forcing myself to sit back down, my muscles coiled.
Brother. This man’s greeting to me was no folly. That was what he was to me in every sense of the word, except for our bloodlines. Famiglia elettiva. Chosen family. But not in recent years. Not necessarily estranged, but he was one of the last people I expected to show up at my restaurant.
“This had to happen eventually, Dominic.” His gruff voice held no contempt, he just wasn’t much of a talker. Never had been. Unlike fucking Emile, who never could shut the hell up.
“And you had to come here today?” I asked, keeping my voice smooth and even. “Do you even remember what day it is?”
His green eyes met mine, and a highly unwelcome look of pity crossed them before they hardened into something less compassionate.
“Of course I remember. I didn’t want to do this today, but unfortunately it had to happen.
It’s time, Dax. CIPHER doesn’t need your money.
It needs your time. Em and I can’t keep this up on our own forever.
” He leaned back in the chair, surprising me when it didn’t break beneath his weight.
“Then don’t. You’re fighting a losing battle. Maybe it’s time for all of us to move on.” I tried to keep my words devoid of emotion. Feelings never got me anywhere in the first place.
“There’s a difference between moving on and burying your head in the sand,” Clay said. “I took an oath for you. We all did. It meant something to all of us then—”
“And look what fucking happened, Clay.” I was losing my patience. “I told you before, I’ll support CIPHER for as long as you want me to, but I don’t want to be involved anymore. Find someone else. Isn’t that where millions of my cash goes every month?”
He took in a long breath and sighed. “Money only gets us so far. Some things can’t be bought, Dax. CIPHER needs you. Whether you like it or not.” He flexed his hands together and I wanted to punch him.
“If you haven’t noticed, I have a restaurant to run. This is what I’m supposed to be doing. It’s what I was always meant to do. I don’t appreciate you coming here during the busiest hours of the week just to berate me.”
Deep breath. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.
“I’m not here to berate you. I’m here to beseech you.
” The rough edges of Clay’s voice told me he was starting to get just as irritated as I was.
“We moved everything out here, Dax. It grows like weeds. It’s everywhere.
You know it as much as I do.” He gestured in a circular motion around the office.
“You can’t live in this little fantasyland forev—”
Another knock came against the door. My blood curdled. I clenched then unclenched my fists. I was going to lose my fucking shit.
“Yes?” I shouted.
The door cracked open and this time it actually was Bianca who stepped through it. She held a wet-looking apron in her hand. Clay straightened and stood up, the chair clattering to the floor beneath him.
“Just tell me you’ll think about it,” he said.
I only nodded my head in response, eager to see him get the hell out of my office. He squeezed past Bianca, looming over her in the doorframe. I didn’t miss the way his eyes stayed locked on her as he made his exit.
“Who was that?” she asked.
Was she blushing? Fucking Bianca?
“Don’t worry about him. What do you want now?” I couldn’t mask the irritation in my voice.