Chapter 107: Overreaction
- LAWSON-
Ever since leaving Auraya in Dex’s bedroom Saturday, I have been waiting for my brother’s call and prepared to defend myself if necessary.
I can’t say how many times I’ve rehearsed my complete shock at the bizarre and outrageous accusation that I would ever even think to go to our father’s house while Dex was away and... and what? I didn’t even do anything. What can Auraya possibly say that I did? Talk to her? Chase her through the house until she locked herself in the bedroom? Please.
Auraya completely overreacted. It’s like I was the boogeyman who was coming to get her or something. I was embarrassed for her that she would react that way. If she thinks that just because she and Dex slept together, he’s going to listen to some pitiful sob story that casts her as the damsel in distress who narrowly escaped a monster, she’s wrong. We’re brothers. He knows me better than that. I may have had issues with plenty of overreacting women in the past, but Dex knows I’m not stupid enough to attack one in our father’s home and create a domestic disturbance.
How well does Dex even know this girl? If Auraya told him I was there, then it’s her word against mine as to what happened. He’s not going to believe that I broke into the guest house. Why would I need to? I have a key. And even if I did happen to accidentally go to the guest house at the same time someone else was staying there—which, by the way, is not my fault in the slightest since no one told me it was occupied—there is no way that Auraya is going to tell Dex that I stole her journals. It sounds next level crazy that I would do something like that, and it would also require Auraya to admit to Dex that she even has dream sex journals.
Auraya may have surprised me by being shitty and aggressive enough to knee me in nuts for absolutely no reason whatsoever, but she’s still the shy, quiet, reserved intern that I’ve come to know the last few months. That girl is not admitting to sex journals. I’m probably the first to read them. And boy am I glad I did...
The razor that is gliding against my skin pauses, and I dip it under the sink’s gently running stream—trying to send the thoughts of her vividly detailed journals away. I don’t have time to jack off this morning before work. But God, I can’t wait to see her again... I had a dream of pinning her against the wall in the file room downstairs, hidden from everyone’s view and yet still at risk of being found. In the dream, she gave in and we had the best fucking sex of my life. And that’s saying a lot, because I’ve had some good sex.
"Shit," I hiss, watching a small trail of blood run down my face from where I’ve pressed too hard and cut myself.
Put it out of your mind, Lawson. Put it out your mind. You can’t afford to get caught up in a scandal. Too much is on the line. But Auraya is so fucking cute, and seeing her in Dex’s shirt on Saturday made me insanely jealous. I don’t get jealous. There are too many gorgeous women out there to get hung up on just one of them.
It has surprised me not to hear from Dex at all after his ’car trouble’ on Saturday, so I’m sure he’s debating about whether or not to even accuse me of being at the house. Auraya’s story won’t make any sense without the journals. And I still met Jeremy at the office on Saturday. Thankfully he didn’t flake, because that’s my alibi should any of this actually become an issue and go south.
Jeremy was late Saturday anyway, so he won’t know that I wasn’t on time either. As far as he’s concerned, I was impatiently waiting since he didn’t receive my call right away. It actually worked out perfectly—like the universe divined it.
"You got this," I mutter at my reflection, wiping my face off and smoothing my hand over my skin. The cut is still bleeding. Hopefully it will stop before I arrive at the office.
When I make it down to the parking garage, I have just enough time to swing by my favorite coffee shop with the fuckable barista who always draws smiley faces on my cup. One of these days I’m going to ask her out. She’s not in any way affiliated with the office, so that’s even better. If this new obsession with Auraya doesn’t subside, I might really need to use her as a distraction.
I get in my beautiful Jaguar, silently reveling in the new car smell that I have managed to preserve in here for over a year. The leather is soft and supple and flawless, and something about the luxury of it makes me feel... right. In control. Flawless. Blameless. And definitely, definitely fuckable.
I am what society expects to see in the young men who rule it. This is what the heir to the Mobius legacy should drive. This is how he should look—not like some wild, unkempt hippie with a motorcycle and far too much facial hair.
If you weren’t looking closely, you wouldn’t even be able to tell that Dex has money. It takes a keen eye to notice his quiet, rebellious luxury. And that’s stupid. What’s the point? He might as well just be some random guy on the street. The fact that my father would even consider leaving Dex the company proves how much he has aged and how sick he may, in fact, be. I’ve seen a couple homeless guys that honestly don’t look that much different from his youngest son.
With that cutting thought aimed at my brother, I smirk and push the ignition button. But nothing happens. The satisfaction I felt just a second ago vanishes—wiped clean with the surprise of my expensive fucking car not starting.
"No way," I mumble, trying it again.
I’m going to be so pissed if I have car trouble of all things after how much money I paid for this vehicle. Even my father, who I was trying to impress, thought the price tag was too high. I would hate to admit that he was right.
All of my attention is focused on this button that has one fucking job to do and refuses to perform it when someone knocks on my window, scaring the shit out of me. But I’m not nearly as scared as I should be, because the guy with his arm on top of my car, leaning down to look in the window has black hair, black eyes, that characteristic swarthy skin that I recognize, because it’s the same as my brother’s. But this isn’t my brother. This isn’t Dex, who I know to be harmless. No, this guy is wide and wearing a respectable suit jacket. He gestures for me to open the door, and nerves I didn’t even know I had start jangling inside of my skin.
"You having some car trouble?" He asks in a Sicilian accent that is almost cliche wise guy and pats the top of the car. "Jaguar. Seems like too nice of a car for trouble. You should complain to the dealership."
On trembling legs, I step out, an awkward smile on my face. I have to look scared shitless, because that is definitely how I feel.
"I will definitely have to do that." I chuckle nervously, wetting my lips because my mouth is bone dry.
I’m going to die today. Every instinct that I have is shaking uncontrollably inside, warning me about a situation that I’m powerless to get out of. It would have been nice if those instincts warned me before getting into the car, because no money or flashy clothes or attempts at persuasion are going to save me from this.
"On second thought, how about I save you the trouble? I know a guy," he says.
"You know a guy?" It’s all I can do: repeat what he’s telling me. My brain has ceased to provide anything else.
"Yeah. He’s a friend of mine. I think he can help you," he says. "He’s real good with cars. I bet he even knows a thing or two about Jaguars, and I’m headed that way right now. Why don’t you hop in? I’ll introduce you."
He grabs my shoulder, imitating a friendly gesture, but there is force behind it, and soon I am being led to his car—the day’s plans forgotten. Now I’m just hoping to survive.
I’m ushered into the back seat of a black sedan where a second guy is waiting. The first bigger one gets in the front, and we take off without another word.
The shock of what’s happening starts to ease a little, and I’m left staring out the window as the city passes by. I did not see this coming—not at all. Why is this happening?
If this is about Auraya, I didn’t even do anything to her. Even if Dex cares about her enough to reach out to his family, I barely even touched her. This is an overreaction of epic proportions.
