Chapter 10 #2
“The security thing.”
“Ah.” His tone stayed smooth, untroubled. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
Which was not technically an answer.
I waited, hoping he might continue.
He did.
“Tobias’s property has certain access protocols. After yesterday, we decided it made more sense to limit unknown vehicles coming and going from the estate.”
“Oh.” I shifted in my seat. “Did I mess something up by using rideshare? I was going to go by train, but then realized how far a walk it’d be from the station to Tobias’s.”
“No, you didn’t mess anything up at all, Cove.”
The answer came quickly enough that I believed it—mostly, at least.
“This is just easier,” Ben added. “Safer, too.”
Safer.
I looked out the window again, watching the city slide past in streaks of pale morning sun and glass.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
And maybe I should have questioned it more.
Maybe there was something strange about how easily a decision had been made around me and then handed over like logistics, neat and already settled.
But the truth was, some part of me was relieved.
I didn’t have to arrange anything.
I didn’t have to explain Tobias’s address to another driver.
I didn’t have to wonder whether I was doing the wrong thing by bringing strangers through the gate.
I could just sit here, in the quiet, and let myself be taken somewhere I was apparently supposed to be.
That was dangerous, maybe.
How easy that felt.
I watched my reflection in the darkened window as the city thinned and the road opened ahead.
By the time the first glimpse of coastline appeared in the distance, my nerves had settled into something softer.
Not calm.
Not exactly.
But close enough that I could breathe around it.
The road followed the coast in long, clean curves, the ocean flashing between buildings at first, then between gaps in the scrubby trees as the city loosened its grip around us. I let myself zone out and watch the world go by, the water sparkling and bright every time it came into view.
That lasted maybe four minutes.
“So,” Ben said from the front, his voice carrying easily through the open divider, “since we’ll be doing this most mornings now, feel free to ask me anything you want to know.”
I glanced toward the rearview mirror.
“About the security stuff?”
“That too,” he said. “But I meant about Tobias.”
My stomach did a very strange, very unnecessary little flip.
“Oh.”
Ben’s eyes flicked to mine in the mirror, blue and bright with the kind of amusement that made me feel like he knew exactly what that one syllable meant.
“You don’t have to,” he added. “But most people have questions.”
“I don’t,” I said too quickly.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Alright.”
Silence settled again, but it wasn’t the same kind of silence as before. This one had been offered something—a door left politely open.
I looked back out the window, trying not to think about Tobias, which was ridiculous because that was apparently becoming one of the least successful activities in my life.
I did have questions.
Too many, probably.
Most of them were not appropriate to ask his personal assistant.
Like, whether Tobias was always so intense, like it was a default setting of his.
Whether he genuinely didn’t understand when something he said sounded unsettling, or whether he understood perfectly and simply didn’t care.
Whether he spent that much attention on everyone, or if I had somehow become an exception.
That last one felt dangerous to wonder about.
So I chose something safer.
“How long have you worked for him?” I asked.
Ben didn’t answer immediately, but his expression in the mirror softened in a way that made me think I’d picked a question he liked.
“Coming up on six years.”
“Six years?” I repeated, more surprised than I meant to sound.
“That’s the reaction I usually get.”
“I just—sorry. That’s not bad. I mean, that’s good. That’s a long time.”
“It is.”
“You must like the job then,” I said, because that felt like the obvious conclusion. “I mean, enough to stay that long.”
“I have a great boss.”
I looked at him again.
There was no hesitation in the way he said it.
No polite little employee script hidden under the words.
He sounded like he meant it, which was interesting, because Tobias didn’t exactly seem like the kind of person people described as great unless they had either been paid very well or had come to understand something about him I hadn’t yet.
Probably both, in Ben’s case.
“He seems…” I started, then stopped because I had no idea which adjective wouldn’t sound rude.
Ben laughed quietly. “Careful there, mate.”
“I was just going to say particular,” I murmured, my face hot.
“That’s generous of you.”
I smiled despite myself, then looked down at my hands, where they were folded too tightly around the strap of my bag.
“He can be intimidating,” I admitted.
“Yes,” Ben said, not sounding offended by that at all. “He knows.”
“He does?”
“Oh, he knows people find him intimidating. I’m not always sure he understands why.”
That made sense in a way that was almost funny.
“He’s stiff when you first meet him,” Ben continued. “Formal. Direct. Not always great at making people comfortable in the usual ways.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“But that isn’t all he is.”
Something in his tone changed enough that I paid closer attention.
Ben wasn’t looking at me in the mirror anymore. His focus had returned to the road, but his expression had lost some of that easy humor. Not in a bad way. More like he was choosing his words with care.
“Tobias takes things seriously,” he said. “Responsibilities. Promises. People he decides matter.”
I swallowed. “That sounds intense.”
“It can be.” Ben’s smile returned, smaller this time. “But it also means that when you’re one of his people, you’re taken care of.”
One of his people.
The phrase sat warm and uneasy under my ribs.
“I don’t know if I’m—” I began, then stopped.
Ben glanced back at me. “If you’re what?”
I shrugged, trying to make it look casual and probably failing. “One of his people…”
The car moved through a patch of shadow beneath a line of wind-bent trees. For a few seconds, the whole interior dimmed, turning Ben’s reflection faint and ghostly in the mirror.
I looked out the window again, but the ocean had disappeared behind the cliff road, leaving only sky and the curve of pavement ahead.
“He’s not like most people,” Ben said after a moment. “That’s obvious. But he doesn’t offer comfort lightly. He doesn’t make space for people unless he wants them there.”
My fingers tightened on my bag strap.
“And he wants me there?”
Ben’s answer came without hesitation. “Yes. You wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want you here. Surely you can see the truth in that.”
Yeah, I could.
And the certainty in it made my throat feel strange.
I didn’t know what to do with that, so I did what I usually did when something got too big to look at directly.
I made it smaller.
“Well,” I said, trying for lightness, “I guess that’s good, since he hired me and all.”
Ben’s smile in the mirror told me he knew exactly what I was doing and had decided to let me get away with it.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I think you’ll do well there.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, Cove. I do.”
I whispered a hushed, “Thanks,” and tried to ignore how happy that made me feel. Although the smile on my face made it hard to.
The rest of the drive passed more quietly, though the silence didn’t feel empty or uncomfortable. Ben hummed once or twice under his breath, low enough that I couldn’t make out a melody, and the car drove smoothly as the road left the last real cluster of houses behind.
By the time we reached the private turnoff, my nerves had started coming back.
Not sharply.
More like a tide.
The first gate opened before we fully stopped, metal sliding aside. Ben lifted one hand in acknowledgment toward a camera I couldn’t see, then continued up the long drive.
The house appeared gradually this time.
First glass.
Then stone.
Then the full structure rose from the cliff, seeming to belong to the rock and water more than to any person. The ocean stretched behind it, huge and glittering under the morning light, waves breaking white against the dark drop below.
I’d already seen it, of course, yet it still managed to steal the air from my lungs.
Ben brought the car around to the front entrance and parked. I reached for the door out of habit, but he had already fucking teleported outside and was opening it before my hand found the handle.
“You’re fast,” I said as I climbed out.
“In the ways that count,” he answered, chuckling.
The wind caught in my braid as soon as I stepped onto the drive, lifting the loose strands around my face. I smoothed them back and looked toward the front door.
I was a bit disappointed when I didn’t see Tobias standing there.
Which was ridiculous.
He was probably busy.
He lived here. He didn’t need to stand at the door like some kind of brooding lighthouse keeper every time I arrived.
Still, I’d expected him.
Ben must have noticed, because he gave me a knowing smile as he closed the car door behind me. “He’s inside.”
“I wasn’t looking for him.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
I gave him a look.
He only smiled wider and started toward the entrance.
The house swallowed us into quiet opulence as Ben led the way down a corridor I recognized, though instead of heading toward my office and the main aquarium wing, he turned toward the kitchen.
The scent of coffee reached my nose before we even stepped into the room.
But when we did—wow.
The kitchen was enormous, with sleek counters and clean lines, and the ocean visible through a wall of glass beyond the far side.
And there, standing at the table with his sleeves rolled back and his attention fixed on arranging plates full of fruit and toast with the focus of someone handling delicate equipment, was Tobias.
He looked up when we entered.
“Good morning, Cove.”