Chapter Twenty-two
The aromatics of frying ginger and garlic floats through the apartment as soon as I shut the door behind me, and I find myself drawn by my nose toward the kitchen and Aiden’s broad back. The bright pink ties of an apron loop around his waist, and he flips rice and vegetables in a wok.
“Now this I could get used to,” I tease, sliding onto a stool at the breakfast bar and watching my man move around the kitchen. He looks as at home here in the compound as he does in the apartment downtown.
Aiden ladles the food into a serving dish and then leans across the counter for a kiss. I meet him halfway, boosting myself across on shaking arms. My stomach rumbles loudly.
“Thought I’d get something ready for us to feast on.”
“Great. My stomach thanks you.”
“Did you miss lunch?” Aiden asks, frowning at me like I had any choice in the matter. I nod but keep my lips tight. “Won’t be long. Dax will be up in a couple of minutes.”
“Has someone told Sylvie?” I ask, wondering why I’m a goddamn masochist. Why should I care if the spoiled brat has eaten or not? Nevertheless, I do.
“Figured you’d not want her with us after what happened today,” Aiden responds, but he watches me like a hawk, waiting for my confession most likely.
“Ah, you heard,” is all I reply, not wanting to rehash the fallout.
He nods, throwing noodles into the wok and seasoning them. “I did. Or rather, we did. Cas sent us the footage.” He turns back to look at me, focussing on my hairline where she grabbed me. He frowns, then turns back to the sizzling wok. “Are you okay?”
“Didn’t Cas tell you?” I tease. “I’m fine. She’s a rattlesnake, that one.”
Aiden sighs at my comment. “Try to let it slide. After everything she’s been through…”
I don’t let him finish. “So, you saw the recording, but you didn’t listen to it?” I ask, knowing he wouldn’t be saying that if he’d heard us.
He stops what he’s doing and stares at me. “What do you mean?”
I point at the noodles until he resumes flipping them around the pan, then tell him my thoughts. “The hotel was some kind of bullshit. I called her on a few things, and that’s why she lost her shit. I think she was there consensually.”
“You think she got my man beat to shit on purpose?”
I hadn’t looked at that aspect of it but no, I don’t think even Sylvie would have condoned that much less set it up/ “No, she probably didn’t know about that, but she knew she was going to an expensive hotel for a romp.
Look, we should probably discuss this with Dax here, so I don’t have to repeat it all. ”
“You’re right. Let me plate this up and give him a call.”
“I’ll text him that you’re ready to serve.”
“Thanks.”
My phone flashes to life just as I hear Dax’s shoes taptaptap up the stairs.
“Just in time,” Aiden calls as Dax shrugs off his suit jacket and unknots his tie, letting it hang on either side of his chest.
“I could smell it from the boardroom and hustled my arse,” he tells Aiden and then turns to me. “Aiden’s Asian dishes are to die for. Not as good as my mother’s cooking but a damn close second.”
I turn to face him on my stool. He stands between my legs and fixes his eyes on my hair, reaching up to run his fingers through it, only withdrawing when a particular spot pulls a gasp from my throat.
His hand travels down to cup my cheek, tilting my face to align with his. His lips fall upon mine. A sweet kiss.
“You okay, little gem?” I nod; he catches the movement in his hand and kisses me again, this time over the bruise forming on my scalp.
Aiden smiles at us both and then re-initiates the banter between them.
“No need to flatter me. Plus, it’s Asian fusion.
There’s no way I’m pulling off a traditional dish.
I use the flavours and the ingredients and do what I can,” he explains, serving our plates and coming around the bar to sit on my other side.
“Shouldn’t we sit at the table?” I ask. Turning my head back and forth, unsure where to direct my attention.
Dax is the first to respond. “Whatever you want. We usually just prop ourselves up at the bar, but you’re right; we should make a meal of this.”
“No! No, this is fine too.”
“Is it the man sandwich? Are you uncomfortable between us?” Aiden asks.
“Actually no. That part is fine…good…nice…uh.”
“Good. I’ll fetch the fine wine. So, we have something nice to drink with our meal.” Dax stands and winks. He heads for the floor-to-ceiling wine rack, leaning down to peruse the third row of bottles. I glare at the back of his head until he turns and laughs. “It’s fine, little gem. Good…nice.”
“Asshole.”
“Show off,” Aiden grumbles.
Dax snorts, “Why? Because you wouldn’t know a good wine if you stomped on the grapes yourself?”
“Which is why you’ll—”
Dax huffs. “Get you a beer, yes.”
“You two are…”
“What?
“Fine, nice, good?” Dax goads.
“Hilarious? Disgustingly handsome? Your dreams come true?” Aiden teases.
I roll my eyes at Dax and answer Aiden, “So comfortable with each other.”
“A long time relying on each other will do that,” Aiden says.
“You’re more like a family than we ever were.”
“From the sounds of Eric Feelan, that isn’t hard to accomplish,” Dax mutters.
Aiden shoots him a warning glare. “I know, I know,” he fires back at Aiden.
He turns to me. “Ask Tom if we sit and eat like a family and he will laugh in your face. I fucked that up for him. It was Aiden who gave me this.”
“It takes time. You’ll feel the same way soon. One day you’ll just feel like it all fits. Like you’re home.”
I can see what Aiden is saying. The two of them are living proof of that, moving around each other as they argue playfully and fetch side dishes from the fridge.
Even Dax seems less uptight than usual. They banter back and forth between mouthfuls of food.
Dax makes sure to put a little of each side dish in my bowl for me to try, topping me up when I run out.
Aiden watches with a coy smile, holding his bowl out to Dax, who only seems to grow more irritated each time he does it.
They’re cute, and funny, and good to each other. I enjoy just being here with them. If only my mind would stop wandering to the girl upstairs, sitting alone in her room.
Dax notices first. “Are you okay?”
“Something wrong with the food, Tiger?”
“What? Oh. No. Food is delicious.”
“Are you done?” Aiden reaches for my plate.
I shake my head and shift my food closer. “No, sorry, just thinking.”
“Spill,” Dax insists.
“Do you think she’s okay? Has she eaten?” I look up toward the ceiling where I think Sylvie’s room would be.
“She’d deserve a night with no supper,” Dax grouses like an angry father. “But she’s not a child, and we’re not that cruel. Mrs Grainger fixed her supper before she left.”
Aiden leans back and groans. “We should discuss what happened today.”
My sigh is loud, but Dax’s lasts longer. After a second to collect my thoughts, I relay the conversation with Sylvie and my suspicions. Both Dax and Aiden remain silent and thoughtful even after I finish.
Dax rolls his lips in thought. “You have a point. Why would she ask Tom where you were if she had no intention of meeting you? The suitcase shows she was planning on staying away for a few days.”
“The man she was with could have pumped her for information?” Aiden suggests, his turn of phrase leaving Dax looking queasy.
“When did she leave here for the hospital?” I ask.
“Five days before we picked her up.”
“So, she might have been in the hotel for three or four nights before calling Tom?”
“Yeah.”
“Who even told her about the interview? Aiden told me only the night before and I only knew where we were going when Cass pulled up at the coffee house.”
“Another good question,” Dax admits.
Aiden leans forward, crossing his arms and leaning on the counter. “Assuming the worst and that she was giving information to Franz’s men, why would she even need to when Franz already approached Trainor?”
“That’s right. Trainor sold out. He betrayed me.” We already flushed the traitor out on that front.
Aiden’s brows furrow. “We might need another chat with Trainor.”
Dax mirrors his expression. “And a long talk with Sylvie.”
Aiden shakes his head. “I don’t think she’ll be opening up to any of us anytime soon.”
I lean back. He’s right; after today I doubt she’ll be useful to anyone.
“Is there no one who can get through to her? Someone she trusts. She’s feeling sidelined right now with my being here. Would it be better for me to go back to the loft?” I ask.
“No. This is the safest place for you,” Dax grumbles.
“I want you here. I also had a chat with Ben today. He shares your sentiment that Sylvie needs a safe place with people she trusts. I’m thinking of taking her out to the country house.
We’ll bring Mrs Grainger as a familiar face and get Sylvie set up in therapy again.
She recovered there after everything with Celeste.
It might be in everyone’s best interest to get her out of Harrison for a few weeks.
Hopefully, figure out what happened in that hotel, and how much of a part she played in it all. ”
Aiden sits up, piling the empty dishes on top of one another as though satisfied the conversation is almost done. “Do you trust the housekeeper to take her? Should I send a team?”
“No. The house is private. No one has been out there in years. She’ll be safe with me and Mrs Grainger for a while.”
“You’re going too?” I ask, strangely hurt that he’s planning on leaving me behind. Stung by his prioritising Sylvie yet again.
“Normality. People she trusts. She needs to know I’ve not abandoned her for my new girl.” Dax reaches out and strokes my hair. His expression is one of apology. He’s asking me to understand.
Aiden interrupts. “Well, as much as I agree with your thinking, the timing sucks ass.”
“What? Why?”