Or at least I thought she was.
Now that the high of the sex has faded, what she told me beforehand comes into sharper focus, and I’m worried.
When I think back on what I saw that day in my mother’s house, her expression was more desperate than someone just counting money from a job. I’m annoyed that I let my own emotions run the show instead of thinking about it more deeply.
Could she be in trouble?
That question prevails above all the others. She said she lived in Irving, which is a pretty rough area. Could someone be threatening her? Or does it have something to do with the nightclub?
I watch her admiring the fish from where I’m sitting on the couch, her large eyes reflected in the glass. Occasionally, sheasks me questions and seems to be genuinely interested. She keeps crouching down to check on Cordelia, asking what to feed an octopus and whether she’ll heal from her injuries.
Her concern makes me smile.
“Would you like a drink?” I ask. I don’t want one myself, but I’m not sure what to do with my hands. I feel on edge suddenly. She looked so surprised when I asked her to stay the night and she hasn’t confirmed that she will yet, but I desperately want her to.
Maybe I can talk her into shower sex in the morning.I feel my cock twitch at the thought.
“What are you having?” she asks curiously, turning toward me.
“I was thinking of an herbal tea. I’m ancient, after all,” I say, only half joking.
“Do you have any hot chocolate?” she asks, her face lighting up like a child.
“I think I could probably find some.”
I rise, walking through the living room to the kitchen. Jax pads behind me, the tapping of her feet a pleasing sound as she follows me through the door.
“Holy hell,” she says admiringly as I turn on the light. “This is amazing.”
The kitchen is wide and spacious, with dark blue cabinets along the walls and a blue granite island at its center. I had it commissioned to resemble the ocean.
“I’m glad you like it,” I say, glancing back at her as she makes herself comfortable on a barstool.
“This place is so fancy,” she says. “I can see why my brother wants to be like you now.”
I turn as I open a cabinet to search for hot chocolate. I have no idea if I have any, but if I do, it’ll be because of Ship.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“Oh, he’s always wanted to run clubs like yours. He wants to have a successful chain under his belt and be able to live in a place like this, too. This apartment must have cost a fortune.”
I chuckle. “It did. A lot more than I could afford at the time, but I’ve paid off the mortgage now. I love this place, but it depends on what your idea of success really is. How does your brother measure success?”
“A good reputation, I think,” she replies.
I find some dark chocolate on one of the top shelves and take it down, turning to her as I raise my eyebrows.
“That’s an unusual answer to that question.”
“Well, you know how I said my dad is in prison?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry to hear it.”
She shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “Flynn’s always wanted to be the opposite of him. Law-abiding, successful, and respected, you know?”
Something flickers in her eyes, and she looks away, her lips thinning.
What’s she scared of?
