Because it wasn’t feeling like pretend anymore.
33
PSA: DON’T START DEEP CONVERSATIONS BEFORE DINNER PARTIES. YOU MIGHT LEARN SOMETHING DEVASTATING. #REGRETIMMINENT
DAKOTA
“Well, that took a lot less time than I thought,” I said with surprise. Usually, my photo shoots took an eternity. Straightening every wrinkle, shifting to get different angles of lighting. But with Axel, I just … relaxed into it. We snapped a few, and they looked great. “Sorry. Looks like we have time to kill before everyone gets here.”
“Have a drink with me?”
A drink with me. He’s just offering you a beverage, Dakota. This isn’t a real date. Stop looking for clues that this matters as much to him as it does you.
I followed him into the kitchen, watching as he poured me a generous glass of red wine and himself an even more generous whiskey. The man had priorities. We drifted toward the living room, where the fireplace was already painting the walls in amber light, and I couldn’t help but think this felt dangerously domestic.
“I know tonight’s going to be brutal for you.” Axel settled beside me on the couch, close enough that I swear my body couldFEEL him here, even if I closed my eyes. “Remember the safe word. You say it, I evacuate everyone faster than a fire drill. No questions asked.”
I smirked. “Ice cubes.”
“Ice cubes.”
“We could lose our deals if we do that.” I took a sip of wine, letting it warm my throat. “There’s actual money on the line here, Pierce.”
“Sunshine.” His voice dropped to that tone that made my hormones stand at attention. “Some things are infinitely more important than money.”
His gaze locked with mine, as if silently ensuring I understood he was referring to me. I mattered more.
“We’ll have to post most of tonight on social media,” I warned, knowing how much he’d hate that.
Axel stared into his glass like it held the secrets of the universe. Or maybe like he was trying not to say something he’d regret.
I tilted my head, studying his profile. “Can I ask you something?”
His attention snapped back to me with laser focus. “Sunshine, you can ask me anything you want.”
The way he said it. Like all pretenses had been stripped away. Maybe it was because in a few minutes, we’d have to perform for an audience all night long, and right now, it was just the two of us, sitting in the calm before the storm. Our storm.
Our only chance to be real. Authentic. No filters, no lies. No pretenses. I mean, my God, we were basically going into battle, where metaphorical lives could be lost. If you can’t share true feelings before then, when can you?
“Why do you hate what I do for a living?” I asked.
“Never said Ihatedit.”
“You didn’t have to. You make it pretty obvious.” I swirled my wine, watching the liquid catch the firelight. “Every time I mention work, you get this look. Like you’ve tasted something sour. And you said, and I quote, ‘I don’t like when people act one way in public and another way behind closed doors.’”
And then he’d refused to tell me what that meant, even though I could tell it was something deep. Profound. As evidenced by Knox’s assessment.
Axel took a long breath, and I could practically see him wrestling with whatever he was holding back. Something big. Something that cut deep.
“Can I ask you a question first?” Axel swiped a thumb along his lower lip.
First. As in he’d finally tell me why he despised my perfectly curated online world. I wanted that answer more than my next breath because I suspected it was the key to understanding the parts of him he kept locked away from everyone else.
“Sure.” I took another sip, watching him over the rim of my glass as he gathered his words.
“Why do you work so hard to make every post picture-perfect?” His tone wasn’t condescending or sharp, like I expected. Instead, it was soft. Curious. Like he genuinely wanted to understand me better.
“What do you mean?” I hedged.
