Chapter 95: Cold Dread
- RAYA -
Dex and I are sitting out by the pool, enjoying the gentle heat of the late morning when he answers a call from his brother. I know it’s his brother, because he groans that it’s Lawson before he picks up. My stomach twists uncomfortably, thinking about the text I received from him and didn’t answer.
"I’m actually busy today," Dex says, glancing over at me. Then he squints into the distance, listening to what’s being said on the other end. He gets up from the chair and starts walking around the pool, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. It’s not hard to tell that Lawson is being Lawson and trying to create some kind of trouble for Dex. "And you just found out about this today?"
Instead of watching Dex and the slow anger that is brewing, creating tension lines on his forehead and the rest of his insanely handsome face, I stare at the water and the light that is dancing—trying to ignore the foreboding feeling of Lawson’s desire to see me on Monday. I am looking forward to returning for every reason except him.
"Fine. Yes, I will see you there."
Dex hangs up with a heavy sigh and returns to my side.
"Everything okay?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"There’s a big client of ours that was scheduled to fly in late next week to view a new pitch for his line. Lawson just got word that he’s coming in Monday instead for some family reason, and he wants me to meet him at the office to review what was supposed to be reviewed Monday. Jeremy is going to meet us there as well, because he’s the lead on it."
"Sounds important." I squint against the sun reflecting off of the pool. "Definitely a job for the next CEO."
Dex smiles weakly, staring out into the water. "Yeah."
"You don’t want to be CEO, do you?" I venture.
"Why do you say that?" But the guilty crooked smile that spreads across his face gives the truth of it away. "It’s just that it’s what my father wants, you know? And when I realized the trouble Lawson had gotten into..." he rakes a hand through his hair and groans. "I can’t let him take over and completely wreck what our father built."
"But if it’s not what you want... I’m sure there’s someone else who could do it."
"But my father is sick right now. I don’t want to push back and cause him to worry. That would be pretty awful of me," he says with a soft laugh, and my heart immediately aches for him. Taking over Mobius Media is such a huge responsibility, and he feels forced into it. "I’m proud of the company. I don’t want it to go to shit because I’m selfishly wanting to do my own thing. And I enjoy being there, working with everyone. I’ll get used to it—especially if you’re there."
He flashes me a smile.
"Did you end up hearing from your father yesterday?"
"No. I meant to call him, but I was preoccupied with someone ignoring my calls and texts," he chuckles. "I will get ahold of him later today. He would let me know if the results came back. I’m assuming he just hasn’t heard yet."
Dex is putting off hearing about possible bad news—I can tell. Who wouldn’t? Without having any wise words to offer, I reach for his hand instead and give it a comforting squeeze. I love his hands—the masculine knuckles, the shape of his fingers, the familiarity of their touch.
"When do you have to go?" I ask, and he looks at his phone.
"Now," he sighs and squints at me. "Will you be okay?"
"Of course," I laugh, and he lifts my hand to kiss it. "The medicine makes me sleepy anyway. I’ll just take a nap."
"Good. That’s what today is about—resting," he smiles.
"So that I can stay up all night with you," I tease, and one of his eyebrows angles up.
"No—no more of that. Not until you’re well," he says, but he also growls softly and leans over to kiss my neck.
"But I’m the boss, remember?"
"The boss needs to heal," he smiles against my skin. "You can order me around all you want as long as it means feeding you and helping you get better."
"It is about feeding me," I whisper, and then he growls again and nips playfully at my neck.
"God, I love your growls," I whimper and bite my lip.
"No whimpering, Raya."
"Or else what?" I whimper again just to test him. He opens his mouth against my neck and rumbles against the skin, kissing and sucking gently before repeating it in a trail up toward my ear.
"Fuck, I have to go," he whispers, dropping his forehead against my shoulder.
He rests there, breathing against me, and I take the opportunity to run my hands through his thick brown hair—caressing him, comforting him, relishing in the closeness. Finally, his eyes lift—that deep, rich brown with warm honey. Even his eyes are delicious.
"Call me if you need anything?" It’s a question. He’s worried I won’t.
"Sure," I smile.
After Dex leaves, I retreat to the house—returning to the couch where I fell asleep before. It’s nice here because of the number of windows that let light in, and it just feels like Dex in here. I can tell this house was built with love. I bet he takes a lot after his mother—not just in looks but in the warmth of his character.
I’m starting to doze off with these happy thoughts in mind when there’s a series of loud knocks on the door that makes me shoot straight up, heart pounding in fear. It can’t be Grace again, right? There’s no way in hell I’m letting her in again.
Frantic thoughts assail me about who it could be until I’m immediately calmed by the realization that I don’t have to find out. I don’t have to answer. Whoever is here is looking for either Dex or his father, and neither of them are here.
"Auraya!" A voice calls, immediately dispelling the comfort of that thought. "Auraya, it’s Lawson. I know you’re here. It’s okay to answer."
A cold dread sinks straight into the pit of my stomach. Why does he know I’m here? And what does he want?
Several agonizing minutes go by of me frozen on the couch, eyes wide with terror, torn about what to do. And then I see Lawson peeking in through the window and his wide grin at recognizing me. Why does this feel like a horror movie?
"Open up!" He calls.
With a string of curse words, I get up from the couch and realize that I’m still in Dex’s shirt, so I wrap myself in the blanket. I have no idea what I’m doing at this point—the only thing that’s running through my mind is that I’m going to get Dex in trouble. I shouldn’t be here, and the one person who wants to get him in trouble more than anything—Lawson—has discovered me.
"Dex isn’t here," I say immediately upon opening the door, but Lawson is completely unperturbed by that fact.
"God, you are amazing," he grins, walking in and then standing there, staring at me.
He looks different. He looks... like a wolf that has crawled out of his human disguise and is happy to be free at last.
"How did you do it?" He asks, shoving his hands into his pockets a little too forcefully, still yet to take his eyes off of me.
"Do what?" I frown, swallowing back the instinctual panic that is trying to warn me of something.
"How did you get him to invite you home?" He chuckles, looking around at the place.
I don’t have an answer for that, so I just stand there uncomfortably, feeling guilty of something... and caught.
"Well, whatever it is, it’s great. Well done."
Wait, does he think this is... a plan of mine?
"Lawson, I..."
"I have a confession," he interrupts, turning to walk slowly further into the house—each step making the dread in my stomach sink deeper. "I took something from you."
"What?" I ask in a surprised whisper, wetting my lips that have gone bone dry.
"Grace told me someone was in the guest house, and I was curious who it was," he shrugs, still walking—like a predator beginning to circle. "So I came in that night. It was me." He picks up the water glass from beside the couch and then sets it back down, his eyes sliding back up to mine.
"That was you?"
"Mhmm," he smiles. "And I found some really interesting reading material. I would have brought it with me, but I didn’t want to risk losing it or it falling into the wrong hands."
I shake my head, not understanding his meaning.
"You’re very clever. The dates are wrong though, so you’ll have to revise it. But every other detail is absolutely perfect." He keeps walking, circling around the couch, his shoes knocking against the floor ominously. "I think I’ve memorized it, honestly."
Finally, it hits me what he’s referring to, and my eyes immediately water.
"My notebooks?"
