5. Vail

Cooking for the devil. I shouldn't be judgmental. It wasn't like my life was a glowing show of positivity and love. Mixing with the mafia was a different story though.

When Dexen asked if I'd be the personal chef for a small dinner party, I jumped at the chance. I didn't need the money. I had more than enough after selling my share in a financial firm I co-owned. But I needed to do something. To stay busy and not sit in my home worrying about what would happen with my ex next.

Then Dexen said who I was cooking for.

Jordan Altair Sr. wasn't a man anyone fucked with. Of course, everyone who lived in and around Dremest knew who he was. He didn't hide in his home or keep to the dark alleys of the city. Jordan knew he was untouchable, thanks to everyone he had in his pocket.

I understood a bit about that. My ex was the same way. He had friends in high places, so he could get out of most situations. I'd witnessed it too many times to count. Gil was able to walk the city streets after the hell he put me through. I gave myself an internal shake to push him from my mind.

The security at Untouchable was top-notch. Showing up at Jordan's building took what Dexen did with his club and upped it by a thousand. I didn't think many people were gunning for Dexen's life like they probably were for Jordan's.

I shouldn't have come here. It wasn't the smartest move, but I had already agreed before Dexen told me who the meal was for. That mistake wouldn't be made again.

After showing the guard my identification, I drove the Untouchable catering van into the underground garage and parked. There was no one helping me tonight. Instead, I was in this alone. Dexen would be there, which I was grateful for, but he wouldn't arrive yet. Dinner wasn't for a while.

A few men met me when I opened the door and exited the van. They were tall and wide, with muscles hardly contained in their black shirts with their guns visible in holsters. Weren't they cold? They needed coats.

Men of few words, at least they were efficient in helping me get the coolers from the van and onto carts to be wheeled toward the elevator. Normally, I'd talk to whoever I was with. It was my personality to be friendly, but I kept my lips pressed together as the elevator took us upstairs and into Jordan's luxurious penthouse home.

Beautiful marble flooring greeted me upon entering. There were paintings hung that were probably worth a fortune, as well as sculptures sitting prominently. This wasn't subtle in the least. Walking into Jordan's home, I was met with a display of wealth.

At six foot four, I wasn't a small guy. I worked out, kept my body in shape. My arms, chest, and thighs were proof of my dedication. But I didn't have the same level of muscle as the man who met me when the elevator doors opened did. He looked like he worked out every minute he wasn't protecting the building and the boss within it.

Almost black hair and nearly as dark eyes, I wouldn't want to cross him. "Mr. Ayers, I'm Reghan, Mr. Altair's personal detail for the evening. Let me show you to the kitchen."

The best way I could describe the kitchen when I entered it was too dark and somewhat sterile. Sterile wasn't a bad thing in commercial kitchens, but in homes, they should be welcoming with warm tones that gave off a sense of comfort. Maybe it was just me. Food brought on the feeling of home. When I thought of it being prepared in someone's personal space, I thought of that comfort.

Everything in the room was dark gray or stainless steel. The gray cabinets had a shine to them with long, stainless steel handles. The appliances were steel and commercial grade, not that I'd expect different in Jordan's home. I couldn't picture him cooking in here. He probably had someone he employed for that. Why they weren't cooking tonight wasn't my business.

I started unloading what I'd need from the carts and transferred it to the black stone countertops, making sure I did so carefully and quietly. I didn't know where Jordan was and didn't want to disturb him. Getting on his bad side wasn't my idea of a job well done.

When everything was off the carts, Reghan stored them out of the way. I got to work preparing the dinner I'd planned for tonight. I was used to cooking in a noisy kitchen at Untouchable, but I also enjoyed the quiet nights at home where I could calm my mind and focus on the task at hand.

When I first started learning from my brother-in-law, I fumbled a lot. Dana took me under his wing and taught me how to cook. I still couldn't do it as well as he could, but I got by on the days and nights he wasn't able to work at the club. His cooking lessons also afforded me the ability to give private lessons of my own. I'd done them for Dash and his men, as well as Dash's brother, Slater, and his partners. They were more enjoyable than being in a large kitchen. I liked the personal touch, the one-on-one attention.

Muffled voices reached me, but I paid them no mind and kept doing what I was paid for. My head stayed down, focused on my task. The room was quickly filling with the aroma of perfectly roasted meat.

Just as I was removing the rack of lamb from the oven, Jordan appeared in a suit that fit his body like it was made for him, which it was. I knew Tristan assisted Jordan with his clothes and was obviously good at it. So good, I let my eyes trace Jordan from his polished leather loafers to the navy slacks and the button-down white shirt where it sat tucked in at his waist. A smooth leather belt looped through his slacks. Given the way the shirt fit, Jordan was in shape, with no stomach pressing against his clothes. His suit jacket was undone, and his hands were pushed into his pockets. There was no tie around his neck, but I caught the bit of silver chest hair peeking out from the top of the shirt where the buttons weren't fastened all the way to his neck. By the time I got to his bearded face, I was fully red in the cheeks at being caught eyeing up the man I was working for tonight.

"My apologies," I said and turned back to the lamb. How stupid was I to look at him like that? It wasn't even out of curiosity. I was sucked in the moment he appeared. Stupid, so damn stupid.

"No need to apologize," he said and walked around the other side of the island, so he stood across from me. "The scent of the meat you've prepared drew me out of my office to see what I could expect tonight. I'd heard Dana was a skilled chef. You could give him a run for his money."

"He's taught me a lot. Thank you for having me in your home. I don't normally do this, rather sticking to the club and my house."

"Your house?"

My gaze drew up, latching on to his eyes. "I offer private lessons. I don't cook at Untouchable full time, only when I need to fill in for Dana. Cooking is enjoyable for me."

"What do you do outside of this?"

"Relax, I guess. I'm doing home renovations a little at a time. It was only partly remodeled when I bought it. I liked the idea of a challenge."

"You wear many hats."

I chuckled. "Not really. More like trial by fire. I wanted to stay busy and figuring out how to remodel the house gave me that. It's also why I'm doing one room at a time. I have no idea how long each space will take me. This way, large areas aren't out of commission at the same time." I shook my head, needing to stop rambling at a man who probably was only making conversation to be nice.

"It sounds like you're having a good time doing it."

"I am." I turned to the oven and pulled out one of the side dishes I'd made. I had to keep moving so everything would be ready when the guests arrived. I knew all of them, but I wasn't here as their friend or employee tonight. This was for Jordan. A meal he was having with his son. I'd heard enough rumblings at the club to know Jordan and JJ weren't on the best of terms. They didn't hate each other, at least not that I knew.

The sound of a dog barking drew my head up, and I looked around.

"Apologies," Jordan said. "I'm watching Latte for Romeo and she's still a vocal puppy who gets into trouble. She's in a bedroom to stay quiet and keep out from underfoot. Apparently, she doesn't like being in there alone when she hears sounds out here and smells the dinner you've prepared." I knew who Latte belonged to since I was friends with Romeo and heard talk of the puppy. What I didn't understand was his connection to Jordan. It also wasn't my business.

"You can let her out. I have a dog of my own, so I completely understand."

"Her hair will get in the food."

"Part of owning a dog is understanding you'll eat their hair now and then. Not by choice, obviously. It floats in the air and always lands in the food. Not that I cook with dog hair," I rushed to say. "I always get it out when I see it." Shit, this was going downhill fast. I had to open my mouth and start talking about fur getting into food. Jesus.

Bark!

Jordan sighed. "Could you cover the food, so her hair won't land in it?"

"Of course. Or I could go see her and maybe then she'll calm down a bit. There's someone new here, and she probably wants to inspect me."

He hummed. "That could work."

I did a quick check of the food still cooking to make sure it would simmer and not burn while I stepped away, then I took off my jacket, leaving me in a fitted white T-shirt and black pants.

When I lifted my head, Jordan's eyes were on my arms. I had full sleeves of tattoos down both of them. They were easy to hide with the jacket. I also made sure to remove the piercings I had in my ears and septum, wanting to look professional. With the jacket off, I guessed that illusion was shattered.

"They're beautiful," he said, his eyes still tracing over my ink.

"I like to have art in my life. So much out there is mundane. I think tattoos give us individuality. They show a bit of who we are with no need for words." My lips pressed closed. Why couldn't I shut up around him?

"Don't be quiet on my account. I understand the need for art and color in life. I just prefer it this way." He swept his hand out. "My home reflects me."

I had to bite my tongue, so I didn't tell him what I thought when I walked in here.

"I know how I come across, Mr. Ayers. While I'd like to say it's not accurate, it is." He turned and started walking out of the room. "Follow me so we can calm Latte down. I might need to have Reghan sit with her during dinner, so she doesn't bark the entire time."

Quickly, I followed him, taking in as much of his home as I could. The living room was beautiful, even if it was dark tones as well.

We climbed the open marble stairs with glass beneath the black railings on either side, walking past open bedroom doors, each with everything in place, making me wonder if they were ever used. A smile curved my lips when we got to a closed door with the whimpering puppy behind it.