24. Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
Lucy
When Dax excused himself to answer the door, I straightened out the skirt of my dress and tucked the sketchbook beneath my leg on the sofa.
I don’t know why I decided to show him my designs.
Maybe because despite how private I was about my work, I knew it couldn’t stay that way forever.
If I wanted to get this internship, if I really wanted all of this, I had to give myself that shot.
Sure, my parents and Tara had seen some of my drafts before, but I always knew they were the people who would tell me what I wanted to hear.
Dax was different. He wasn’t the type of person who would tell me something looks good just to spare my feelings.
No. Which was why what he told me meant so much more than I could ever find the words to describe.
I spent most of my day in the elegant room with plush furniture and filled to the brim with texts ranging from fiction to my very own concentration of architectural design.
I didn’t read them, but I sat at one of the cozy chairs near a desk and pieced together what I wanted to bring with me to my interview with Echelon Developments…
if I even got to go to the interview, that was.
Dax seemed pretty confident I would, even though there had been no news about Wrangler.
It felt weird to do something that felt so normal, yet also daunting. My future was hanging by a thread, and my last year in college felt a million miles away. That being said, I did need something to occupy my time while we were here, so I took his advice and reviewed my work.
I heard footsteps coming from the door in sync with Dax’s voice. “What took you so goddamn long?” he sounded exasperated.
I heard a faint Brooklyn accent sprout behind him.
“That’s seriously how you’re gonna thank me for coming all the way out here?
Just because you suddenly decided you want to be in control of everything doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t have other shit going on.
Has it ever occurred to you that I’m not just sitting around waiting for your beck and call…
” The owner of the new voice came into view and noticed me at the exact same moment I saw him.
“Oh, sorry. Hi, Lucy. Nice to see you in person, I’m—”
“Emile,” I finished for him. “It’s nice to see you too?” I hadn’t been expecting anyone else to join us here at the lake house, but I guess Dax did because he was hauling a bunch of equipment behind him.
Emile must have sensed my confusion because he let out a crass laugh as he turned to face Dax. “You didn’t fucking tell her I was coming?” He threw his hand up in the air as he spun around.
“I didn’t think it was important. Did you bring the VPN router?” Dax hefted a bundle of cords and computer equipment I didn’t have the names for onto the kitchen island counter.
“Obviously.” He turned toward me. I hadn’t been able to tell from our video chat with him the other night, but he was around Dax’s height with a similar build.
Despite their similarities, Emile’s eyes were a warm dark brown—unlike Dax's steely blue. They met mine with a patient smile. “Dominic insisted I lug all this equipment up here so he could micromanage our search. Never mind the fact I have multiple businesses to run and a thousand other things to do besides deal with his shit.” Emile’s words were harsh, but his tone suggested it was less of an inconvenience than he made it seem.
Like meeting us all the way here to drop off some equipment wasn’t unusual.
My vision tore to Dax, who had busied himself plugging in the equipment. He didn’t say anything other than, “You better make yourself comfortable, Em. This might take a little while.”
Emile rolled his eyes. “I had a feeling you would say something like that,” he grumbled and dug through the bag he’d brought in with him before withdrawing a familiar-looking bottle of liquor. “Do you know anything about gin, Lucy?”
My mind flashed back to my night at Bellissima playing cards with Ricky and Bianca. The night Ricky was testing the new bottle of gin. The night Dax first kissed me in the kitchen. I tried to ignore the flurry of heat that stirred in my abdomen at the thought.
“I’d say she’s pretty familiar,” Dax spoke for me, a smirk lacing the angles of his stupidly handsome face.
I wanted to smack him. Instead, I decided to ignore the snarky remark. “Why do you ask?” I kept my eyes trained on Emile.
“I happen to own a distillery, and I’m sure you could use something to take the edge off after being stuck here alone with this asshole.” He gestured toward Dax.
I couldn’t contain my giggle. If only he knew.
Emile had helped Dax set up a series of panels and monitors on the kitchen island so that it looked like a makeshift control room.
When they were done, Dax went back to prepping whatever he had in store for dinner tonight, and I sat on the couch.
The longer we were there, I realized similarities between him and Dax started and ended with their tall, broad frames and dark hair.
Where Dax was reserved and brooding, Emile was chattery and exuberant.
He told me a little bit about what he did for CIPHER, but that was only a drop in the bucket of everything else he did.
“I gotta give it to you, Lucy”—Emile plucked one of the olives out of his glass and chewed on it—-“Most people wouldn’t have the balls to walk back into the restaurant the way you did.
You’re a good friend to her. I’m sorry you girls got involved with these kinds of people.
Unfortunately, it’s something that happens more than you know.
It’s exactly what CIPHER is trying to put a stop to. ”
I looked over my shoulder and watched Dax move around the kitchen.
Even here, it was such a natural space for him, the way he shifted between the different appliances as he chopped, sauteed, and arranged things onto plates I couldn’t see from the couch.
He couldn’t hear what we were talking about from over there, which is why I felt the sudden urge to ask Emile a question.
“Why did Dax leave CIPHER in the first place? If you’re all doing work to help save people from torture and exploitation, what made him drop everything and move to San Francisco to be a chef?”
Emile pressed his lips together, and I immediately regretted my question.
I wasn’t expecting him to answer, but he surprised me by saying, “There’s a lot of risk factors involved with what we do.
Especially with the role Dax played. I get to stay behind a screen for the most part.
So did Tony. Clay’s a soldier, he belongs on the frontlines.
” He looked over at his friend briefly. “It’s different for Dax.
It was something he had to do. It was what made him so damn good at it.
But then everything happened with Tony, and…
” Emile shrugged his shoulders as if this was a reasonable explanation.
“Who’s Tony?” I asked him.
Emile gave me a kind of surprised look, then a sad smile.
“I probably shouldn’t have said that, sorry.
I thought you already knew.” He stood up and walked over to the window, where stars were starting to pop up behind the mountain, bright and shimmering above the lake.
I had a hundred more questions for him, but I knew our conversation had come to an end.
The three of us sat at the table together as we quietly ate the dinner Dax had prepared for us. The same table Dax had ravaged my body with explosive sex the night before. Dax gave me a smirk that told me he knew exactly what I had been thinking about, and I turned my face to my plate.
“It’s good to see you again, brother.” Emile swirled the olive skewer around in his cocktail, his dark eyes cast at Dax.
“You saw me the other night.” Dax took a bite from the perfectly cooked filet mignon in front of him.
“No. I mean it’s good to see you. The real you.”
My eyes trained back to Dax, and I could have imagined it, but it almost looked like he flinched. He didn’t respond, staring intently down at his plate. His knuckles blanched as he gripped his fork.
“Look,” Emile continued, “I know what happened was fucked up. We all do. But you can’t let that be the reason you abandon everything.
I tried to tell you then, and I’m telling you again now because we need you, man.
You built this thing from the ground up.
Don’t you think it’s time you stop playing chef and take back what’s rightfully yours? ”
I felt like I was eavesdropping, even though they knew I was sitting right there.
I could tell this was a conversation I wasn’t supposed to be part of.
One Dax probably didn’t want me to hear.
But this was also the first time I had some insight into Dax's life from someone outside of the restaurant. So, I kept my mouth closed and hoped they’d forgotten I was here.
That hope was immediately shut down when Dax’s gaze turned to me, hot and assessing. There was something complicated in his gaze I couldn’t decipher, and just when I thought he was going to ignore Emile again, he spoke.
“CIPHER has continuously operated with my support. I don’t need to be involved other than monetary. I have other people counting on me now. I have the restaurant, well, I did until about forty-eight hours ago. Now I have that shitshow to deal with the moment I get back to the city...”
Emile shook his head. “That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it. I have hobbies and businesses. So does Clay. We don’t need a silent partner. We need you.”
“And I told you I’m not interested. This little chat isn’t going to be the thing that convinces me. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got some bigger fucking things on my plate right now.” Dax’s voice was rough but not raised. Stern. Unrelenting.
“This”—Emile nodded in my direction—“is precisely why we do what we do. You know it as much as I do. You only want to be involved with this now because it’s personal.”
Dax stood up from his seat, taking his empty plate and glass, a deep frown carved into his heart throbbingly perfect features. “It’s all personal.” He walked away from the table and toward the kitchen to clean his plate.
I sat awkwardly for a moment while Emile sipped his martini across from me with a look of frustration.
What the hell was all that about? I sat for a few moments in silence with Emile before following Dax to the kitchen. He was wrapping leftover food in containers, and I went over to the sink to start washing the dishes.
“No.” Dax reached over my shoulder to turn off the faucet and took the sponge from my hand. “I told you, you’re not washing any more fucking dishes.”
“You’ve been doing all the cooking. Just let me help, Dax,” I told him.
He didn’t give me back the sponge. Instead, he leaned down close to my ear, his body heat enveloping the sliver of space between us.
His lips brushed across my neck and behind my ear, tingles scattered across my skin.
“Don’t argue with me. Say goodnight to Emile and wait in my room, Luce. ” Dax’s rasp was soft yet demanding.
Something primeval pulsated inside me. I stood there for only a moment more before doing exactly what he said. I bade Emile adieu for the evening and walked down the long hall to where Dax’s bedroom awaited.
I sat on his bed, which was made perfectly when I entered the room.
He must have gone in there earlier, when I was in the library, to put things in order.
The place had been something of a disaster when we’d left it earlier that morning, and until Emile showed up, I was positive we’d been alone in the lake house.
I liked that about him.
It didn’t matter how much money he had, or how he liked to spend it.
He still knew how to act like a normal—albeit gorgeous—person.
He was someone who cooked his own food. Washed his own dishes.
Yeah, he owned a car worth more than I’d earn in my entire lifetime, but he wore Crocs when he washed the dirty floor mats in his restaurant.
That was the thing about Dax—there was always another side to him, and it was like rolling dice.
Hot or cold?
Humble or proud?
Light or Dark?
As much as that confuddled me, it also made me feel alive. He sparked something inside me I once wasn’t sure existed, and the only thing I wanted was more.