Chapter 99: Family Sundays
- RAYA -
Dex and I slept all night curled in each other’s arms. I woke up once, terrified of something that I couldn’t see in my dream, and Dex was right there—whispering that is was okay, soothing the fear, shielding me against it with his body and his voice and the fierce protection that has ignited inside of him and never seems to sleep.
He didn’t leave once yesterday after he returned to find me locked in the bedroom. He remained by my side, not even answering calls, as if there was a threat that could return at any moment and he was going to be on high alert for it—as if his attention should not be divided even though he was lost to inward thoughts. I kept catching him staring into space, working things out in his mind, fixated on something he wasn’t speaking of.
It makes me worry for him. What happened yesterday with Lawson was not good, but I’m not sure it calls for this reaction. Maybe it does... I can’t seem to see the situation clearly anymore. I keep wanting to think that I’m overreacting just so things can go back to normal in my mind—just so I can pretend it didn’t happen the way I remember it and I can tell Dex to forget about it and let it go.
It’s easy to imagine that it was an overreaction once you are safe, I suppose. I got away—I wasn’t harmed. I didn’t have to endure Lawson’s dark, predatory gaze any longer than the short time I was pinned against the wall. I didn’t have to know what he would have done if I opened the bedroom door, and thankfully he didn’t force it open. So now the paralyzing fear I was in when I was hiding behind Dex’s bed in his locked bedroom seems a little silly.
Now we’re driving to Dex’s aunt and uncle’s house with the tin box of his Nonna’s letters between us. And Dex is nervous. He hasn’t said he is, but his silence right now is different than any other silence I’ve sat in with him. It feels like it’s prickly with tension, but it’s not tension between us.
"It was my fault," I confess—maybe just to draw him out of his silence or distract him from his thoughts.
"No it wasn’t." Dex looks my way with a glare—not in anger but in reprimand. "Don’t even think that for a second."
"I agreed to do Lawson and the company a favor by being your assistant. I agreed to spy on you. I wrote in those journals and didn’t destroy them..."
"Raya! You have a right to keep journals of whatever the hell you want and expect for it to stay personal. It’s not your fault that someone stole them from you. And it’s not your fault that my brother is a predator. He has had plenty of legal issues with women. You aren’t the first one he has made feel at least uncomfortable in some way."
His hands curl more tightly around the steering wheel, knuckles going white.
"If it’s anyone’s fault other than Lawson’s that this happened to you, it’s my father’s," he says, voice deep and regretful.
"What? Mr. Jansen? But he’s such a great man..."
"But he didn’t fire him when he should have. He didn’t prevent this from happening to you or someone else when he knew it was a possibility."
Dex returns to his troubled silence, and I stare helplessly out at the countryside that’s passing. His aunt and uncle’s house is further outside of the city, and we finally come to neighborhoods that I’ve never seen before—neighborhoods I never knew existed with large, sprawling estates that make Dex’s home with its pool and garden and guest house look quaint in comparison.
"Is your uncle some kind of billionaire?" I mutter. No wonder Dex is asking for his help. Whatever his uncle does, he’s evidently very good at it.
The truck has slowed as we navigate past homes that look more like resorts... each of them large enough to hold multiple families without an issue. If there were ever a time when statewide or country-wide quarantine was necessary again, this is where I would want to be.
"Listen," Dex says, grabbing my hand with one of his. "Don’t ask too many questions. My family is really private, and asking questions is sometimes taken as offensive. If you have questions, ask me later. Okay?"
I look at him with a sudden spike of nerves that I’m going to somehow mess this up. When he notices, he chuckles and pinches my chin.
"Don’t worry. I’m here with you. And my aunt is one of the sweetest women in the world. She’s going to make you feel right at home. I guarantee it."
The reassurance is enough to make me feel better until we pull into the drive and I see the mansion that we’re going to be entering. It makes my jaw drop.
"I should have dressed better."
Dex laughs softly. "You are dressed perfectly, my dear. I wouldn’t let you embarrass yourself even if it were possible. You’re beautiful."
"You’re biased," I shake my head, eyes glued to the house.
"That’s right. I am." He puts the truck in park on the curved brick driveway and reaches over to kiss my neck, making me shiver. "My family will be biased, too. Because you’re mine."
We walk to the front door hand-in-hand, and the closer we get the more I feel dwarfed by the Spanish Colonial architecture. It is beautiful but incredibly intimidating. I’ve never been anywhere like this before—not in my entire life. There are wrought iron balconies on the second floor contrasting against towering white stucco walls and beautiful arched windows.
Instead of someone waiting to answer the ornate arched double doors, Dex walks right in without knocking. It’s surprising that there isn’t at least a doorman or something. Can anyone just walk right in like this?
Inside the first set of doors, there is an arched wrought iron gate that opens to a light-filled two-story foyer with a sweeping curved staircase and white stone walls. Greeting us is a marble statue of two angels, above which hangs a beautiful sparkling crystal chandelier. The floor tiles under our feet appear to be hand-painted with delicate designs, and all I can think is that this entire area is a work of art that I don’t feel comfortable walking through.
"It’s just a house," Dex says softly next to me. "Don’t overthink it."
I want to snort a reply, but that doesn’t seem appropriate here—even though there is no one round.
"Where is everyone?" I ask instead.
"Dex?" A man comes around the corner of an arched doorway, a huge grin on his face. His hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing a grey suit with the white collared shirt unbuttoned and open at the top. "You came!"
"Hey, Luciano," Dex says in greeting, and the two shake hands.
"And who is this beautiful woman with you?" He turns to me, offering his hand and then kissing the back of mine when I take it.
"Auraya Gray," Dex says and then turns to me. "Raya, this is my cousin Luciano."
"Luciano Ricca," the cousin says in a deep husk, his dark eyes glinting in amusement of some kind as he gazes at me and remains holding my hand poised just under his lips. "It’s a pleasure, Raya."
"Nice to meet you," I smile, feeling my cheeks heat shyly under the intense study of his eyes.
"Okay, you can stop touching her now," Dex says, chuckling and playfully shoving Luciano back so that he drops my hand.
"What? Are you afraid I’m going to steal your girl, Dex?" Luciano laughs and adjusts his jacket.
"Not even a little bit. I’m afraid you’re going to scare her off."
"I’ve never scared anyone off. I’m always a gentleman," Luciano grins, glancing back at me with a meaningful look.
"Stop looking at her like that," Dex chuckles and grabs Luciano around the neck, pulling him into a rough hug.
"I can’t even look at your girl, Dex? This must be serious. I better get an invite to the wedding."
"No way. No bums allowed, Lucy," Dex chuckles, smoothing his cousin’s hair back and kissing him on the side of the head.
"Bum? Who are you calling a bum? I’m dressed better than you. What is this?" He asks, pulling at Dex’s shirt. "This is how a CEO dresses?"
"It’s Sunday," Dex shrugs, looking at himself.
"It’s Sunday," his cousin scoffs. "You know you dress like this everyday. Always the cool guy—too good for a proper suit. You actually look better today than you did at the office the other day."
"Alright alright," Dex waves a dismissive hand.
"Dex?" A woman comes around the corner next, and when she approaches with such an overjoyed, shocked expression, Luciano glances back at me with a smile. "Am I dreaming? Are you really here?"
"Hi, Zia Gemma." Dex’s voice drops in a way that tugs at my heart.
Having heard him speak so fondly of his mother and hearing the soft guilt and affection in this simple greeting toward his aunt, I can tell there is a deep well of memories being disturbed right now that are threatening to choke him. Maybe that’s also why he was so quiet on the drive here. He is being confronted with the emotions that he chose to run from and that have kept him away from home this long.
"Dex, thank goodness. It has been so long. Come here, son," Gemma says, opening her arms to give him a hug. "We missed you. You left without a word. I was so worried, and your father never had an answer for when you might return."
"I’m sorry, Zia," I hear him say as he lets his aunt wrap him in her arms.
She sighs and holds him, closing her eyes in what looks like a silent prayer of gratitude. And then she kisses him on the head, grabbing his face and kissing both of his cheeks.
"Well, you’re here now," she smiles, voice thick with emotion. "Thank heavens. And who is the lovely young lady you have brought with you?"
Everyone’s eyes turn back to me, the silent observer of this beautiful moment, and instead of being shy like usual, I walk to his side. Dex places a hand on my back in a way that feels like an important gesture—a nonverbal claim—and it makes me glow inside. He has never introduced anyone to them before, I can tell by the palpable tenderness of this moment, and it’s something I get to share with him.
"Zia Gemma, this is Auraya Gray."
