Chapter 146: Good-Intentioned Egg
- RAYA -
Dex and I drive to the reception without waiting for Luciano to report on if he found anything. I doubt he did. If the guy disappeared that quickly, there probably wasn’t any trace of him. That or it could have been my imagination entirely.
"I’m sorry about that," I say, chewing on my bottom lip and staring out the window, still seeing the figure in the shadows. My mind is trying to make sense of it—consider any details or clues that would explain why that stranger felt significant.
"Don’t apologize." Dex reaches over and takes my hand. "You need to tell me stuff like that."
"But Kenneth Rider is in jail. It’s not like there’s anyone else. It was just some random person visiting the cemetery. I guess I’m just paranoid..."
"You’re not just anything. Even if it wasn’t someone with ill intentions, I want you to feel like you can tell me when you have a bad feeling. We already established that there are creeps out there drawn to your light. Like Kenneth and my brother."
It sounds like it should be a joke—bad guys being drawn like moths to a flame—but Dex doesn’t give any indication that it is. I wonder if he truly believes that.
A silence descends that is heavy with thoughts and also with overwhelming sadness. The guy at the cemetery only disrupted that deep sorrow of the day. Now it’s falling again and clinging like dust that was scattered and sparkling, weightless in the air and is now gray and thick in its return.
"Can I ask you something?" I glance at Dex as he focuses on the road.
"Mhmm."
The hum is a reassuring acknowledgement in its tone, but he’s clearly in deep thought—something pinching his forehead with tension and concern while his eyes narrow on a thought that has caught his attention. I wonder if I shouldn’t bother him, but my curiosity is too much.
"Why is Luciano still keeping an eye on me?"
Dex blows out a breath and repositions his grip on the steering wheel.
"That’s a good question. I didn’t ask him to do that today. I hope he didn’t bother you or Rory."
"No. He may have bothered my dad," I say with a chuckle, recalling how nervous my dad seemed to be.
"Really?" Dex glances at me. "What did he do?"
"Nothing," I tell him, waving it off. "Just shook his hand a little too hard maybe."
"That doesn’t surprise me. That’s Luci," Dex chuckles and shakes his head. "I did ask him to watch over you while I was gone just in case something happened, but today was entirely him. I think the idea of you having a stalker is something Luciano has taken personally. He told me that our Nona Etna was killed by one. That wasn’t something I was aware of."
"So that’s really true?" I frown, those same nerves from the cemetery knotting in my stomach again.
"That’s not the story I was told," Dex says, brows feathering. "But apparently my parents were keeping it from me. I suppose they didn’t want to scare a young kid by telling him his grandmother was murdered."
"They were protecting you," I say, squeezing his hand. "I understand that."
"It would have been nice to know, though."
"I’m not sure Luciano is actually concerned about me, though," I say with a crooked smile. "It’s probably just an excuse to approach my sister."
Dex chuckles and runs a hand over his beard. "You noticed that, huh?"
"It’s pretty obvious. And—surprise, surprise—he calls her princess." I say with a wry smile.
"I’ll try to get him to back off."
"Rory actually seemed okay with him. She can take care of herself, so there’s probably no need," I tell him. "As long as he respects her telling him ’no.’"
Dex nods but doesn’t say anything.
"And if he doesn’t, he’s going to be in a world of pain," I mutter.
"Luciano would never hurt her," Dex says. "He’s just going to try really hard to get her to say yes." He gives me a crooked smile with that dimple making an appearance. It makes my knees weak. That dimple is trouble. "But as you saw back there, he is also concerned about the idea of you having a stalker. I’m glad he’s around."
"He’s a good egg?" I ask with a smile. It’s a term I’ve heard him use several times before.
Dex readjusts his grip on the steering wheel again and does an indecisive head tilt one way and then the other. "Eh. He’s an egg."
"What does that mean?" I chuckle.
"It means sometimes you need one that’s willing to be bad." He glances as me with zero humor or amusement—just sincerity. "And that’s why it’s good to have him around. His methods are not always good. But his intentions are."
I watch Dex as he returns to focusing on the road, and the memory of his confession about how he wanted to kill his brother flickers through my mind. I told him I understood why he felt that way, and I do. And something tells me that’s exactly the kind of thing Dex is talking about with Luciano.
Lawson isn’t here today, and Dex mentioned briefly before that he wouldn’t be. I haven’t asked for further details about it. I don’t need to know—I don’t want to know—unless he feels like sharing that with me.
As far as I’m concerned, as long as Dex isn’t going to be in any danger of facing charges for whatever kind of condition he left Lawson in, I’m not worried about it. Because Dex is a good egg. I know he is. I know it in my soul. And Lawson is the opposite.
We pull into the country club drive with its elegantly arching trees and manicured lawns rolling in soft hills around us. I’ve never been here before. It has a modern aesthetic that reminds me of a futuristic cabin—all straight, simple lines but with that knotty wooden material. And lots of long, rectangular windows to let in the light without offering any hints to outsiders about what lies within.
This is the kind of place that makes me nervous—like as soon as I walk in, its members will know I don’t belong here and make sure I remember that fact.
"Don’t be nervous," Dex says, squeezing my hand before putting the truck in park as a young valet attendant approaches. "The clubhouse has been reserved for the reception. No one else should be here."
How does he always seem to know what I’m feeling? He knew at the cemetery, too.
"It’s also probably one of the safest places to be," he adds. "No Kenneth Riders can sneak in."
Dex opens the truck door for me and helps me down, the care in his eyes making all of the butterfly wings inside me tremble, reminding me that they’re there—that they could fly away at any moment.
Sometimes I imagine my chest splitting open and dozens of winged creatures like that being released into the world. How do they stay inside when they’re so restless to be free?
"They may have avocados here," Dex says, leaning close for only me to hear.
I gulp and offer him a shy smile, the reminder of that code word sending a dose of warmth through my veins. His thumb runs over my hand reassuringly as we walk inside.
The interior of the clubhouse is much cozier than I imagined. The roof is peaked with wooden beams angled in a way that resemble tree branches, and windows surround the room, looking out onto the beautiful acreage and golf course in the distance. There’s a stone fire place on one side that isn’t in use but that adds to the rustic charm, and several sets of doors are open, offering access to a long balcony on one side.
I can imagine a lot of men sitting in here in their golf clothes, sipping drinks and talking about important things—things that keep them in power. As cozy as it may seem, this is a place created for the upper class. The white linen tablecloths, elegantly folded napkins, multiple sparkling chandeliers, and wine glasses are an easy reminder.
"I have to go find my uncle and see if Luciano is here yet. Will you be okay for a few minutes?" Dex asks.
At that moment, I spot Rory and Dad walk in from the balcony where they must have been admiring the view.
"Yeah. I’ll sit with Rory."
"Don’t be surprised if Luci chooses that table, too," he says with a lighthearted smile. He kisses my temple and then leaves, headed back toward the entryway.
Before I can make it to my sister, Laurel steps into my path. "That was fast," she quips with eyes like daggers. "Comforting the boss while he’s mourning? That’s a little disappointing, Aurora. I didn’t think you were the kind to sleep your way to the top."
"It’s AuRAYA," I say through clenched teeth, glancing around to see who may be overhearing. There is no way I’m going to be baited into making a scene at a funeral reception for Dex’s father just over some bullshit jealousy of Laurel’s.
Rory must have the same spidey senses that Luciano does, because she’s right at my side, casting a dismissive glare Laurel’s way.
There’s this quality my sister has that I’ve always admired a bit. She may be stubborn about holding grudges and erecting walls around herself to keep people from getting too close, but she also has a sharp tongue that is effortlessly paired with poise and elegance. It’s a lethal combination when she’s in a position to deploy them, and that wicked little flame ignites when she needs to defend someone she loves.
Like Dex said about Luciano, it’s good to have someone like Rory around to watch your back. Right now, seeing my sister’s condescending glare clashing with Laurel’s is actually pretty satisfying. It gives me a little gleeful thrill that I’m not proud of.
"Everything okay, Auraya?" Rory asks, not taking her eyes off Laurel.
"Of course," I say, grabbing her hand. "Let’s find a place to sit."
