Chapter 37

MELODY

Wednesday

"I'll be there in a moment,"I say to my mother before ending the conversationwith herand shoving my phone into my purse.

I spin around and look up the street.

You can never get a cab when you need one, so I start walking.

The weather is perfect if you don't need to pace down the street and shield your eyes from the sunall the way to the destination.

Not before long, Ienterthe fancy restaurant, and the hostessgreets me and leadsme to the table.

My mother gives me a wave as I sashay my way through the middle of the restaurant.

"Hi," I say, my cheeks burning, my hair not as neat as hers.

Her eyes slide over my face and the two-piece blue skirt suit I wear.

"This looks nice on you," she says, taking in my canary yellow bag. "You and your bright-colored bags," she says, smiling.

She wears light gray pants, black shoes, and a colorful blouse intones ofwhite and pink.She looks pretty with herframeless glasses and pearl earrings.

"What's wrong with my bags?" I ask, sliding into my seat with a grin on my face.

"Nothing. That's surely a statement piece."

"They all are. That's the point," I say before the waitress shows up and takes my drink order.

"Are you ready to order food as well?" she asks.

I look at my mother, who's already perusing the menu.

"Yes. I think we are," I say.

We order fish, pasta, and roasted broccoli.

"Someone's hungry," my mother comments, bringing her wine to her lips.

"I always am," I say.

A few moments pass as Imake myselfcomfortable in my seat and get my drink while my mother reads my expression and speaks.

"So… How are things?" she asks.

I tell her.

Itellher about my job, the properties I saw yesterday, and the place that seems perfect for me.

By the time I show her the pictures, our food is already on the table.

She likes what she sees, and the more I look at the apartment myself, the more I feel like this is it.

This is the place where I see myself cooking spaghetti, drinking wine, and listening to music. Taking long walks around the neighborhood, jogging, and drinking lattes around the corner.

The place is perfect for a single woman, and inmany ways, it speaks to that.

There's no need to think about me and someone else in the space, which is scary and freeing at the same time, and maybe it's the answer.

So, in a way, I'm happy with how I feel about that place. On the other hand, it's expensive, and my mother and I discuss that over food.

"It's doable, but I'd need to secure a large down payment before financing the rest."

"Your father and I could help with the down payment," she says, and I flick my hand in disagreement.

"No. Absolutely not. First off, I have my savings. And secondly, I have to do it on my own. It's just that I'm not ready for that kind of commitment."

She sets her fork down and looks at me.

"What would nudge you in one direction or the other?" she asks as I chew on my food.

"I don't know," I say, averting my eyes and focusing on my food.

"You don't know? Or you don't want to talk about it?"

"Both," I say, lifting my gaze.

Our eyes connect.

"It doesn't have to do with men, I hope," she says, resuming eating.

I chuckle quietly.

"Absolutely not. That aside, I'm going through a strange phase right now, and men are part of it."

"They always are…" She gestures dismissively. "But tell me more," she adds, smiling.

I give her a few pointers, and she listens patiently before commenting.

"These men you're seeing… Thomas, Emile, and whoever else," she says, bringing her wine to her lips.

She takes a drink and puts the glass down before grabbing her fork and knife.

"These men are not looking for something serious. And I'm not saying that you should…" she says, gesturing with her fork. "But if you're looking for something serious, do yourself a favor and avoid these people. Men who want what you want don't wastetheirtime wining and dining a woman. The first thing they do after you've caught their eye is try to get to know you better. There is urgency in them. They're not interested in bars, opera, theater, showing you off, and boasting about themselves. Playing games and all that crap. They want what you want. And they would do whatever they could to relay that to you. They want to share their life with the right person. So stop indulging these dudes. They're just dudes. And I have nothing against that woman, Aretha…?"

"Stenson. Dr. Aretha Stenson."

"Yeah. I'm sureshe'sa fine woman, but she won't help you find a good man. She can tell you if you're doing something wrong, but ultimately, it's up to you to stop looking in the wrong places."

"She kind of said the same thing."

She gestures again.

"Yes. Maybe."

"Looking in a different place is not that easy. I am who I am…"

My voice trails off as my eyes fly casually across the room and swiftly widen in disbelief.

Four men enter the restaurant, and one of them is Jax London.

My jaw slackens as I take them in.

He seems unaware of my presence here, and nothing in his demeanor suggests this is a repeat of what happened at that bar on Friday night.

That was different, and although we never discussed it, I felt he wasn't there by chance.

But this is not that.

They walk with purpose and are all about business. The man striding next to him is older, beefy, and has a stern glint in his eyes.

None of them smile, and they have mafia written all over their scarred faces. Jax is the only one unmarred.

The other three look like they've been grazed by bullets and felt the edge of a knife against their ribs once or twice.

My mouth stays open as I try to get a grip on myself.

"Something happened…?" my mother murmurs, shifting in her seat to peer over her shoulder.

I snap out of my trance and slide my hand over hers.

"I'm sorry. I was thinking about something else," I say quickly, removing my eyes from the men.

Luckily, Jax has his back turned to me, and the others have no business with me.

They all sit and order drinks and food. They speak in hushed voices and start discussingimportantmatters when the waitress collects the menus and walks away.

Their brows are furrowed, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out these are the people he is working with.

They're not blue-collar, white-collar Wall Street types, doctors, lawyers, or cab drivers. They're not teachers, and I wish they looked like bouncers.

While they have the athletic build of a bouncer, they lack that unimpressed look on their faces.

If anything, they have fierceness in their eyes.

And this is just another reason I can't have this man in my life.

As perfect as our sex life is, and as much as I like him as a person, I know nothing about him.

And there's a reason for that.

Three big reasons who sit with him at the table right now.

I'm convinced he is here with business, and it is just my luck to learn things about him in the silliest way, staring wide-eyed at him and his company and having my mother here, shooting suspicious looks at me.

"What exactly were you thinking about?" she asks, reading my eyes while I struggle to keep my gaze away from his table.

I can't gape at him without clueing her in that something's going on.

This is my mother.

She knows me better than anyone else in this world.

So I try to keep my eyes in check, still fretting over the possibility that she might see him or we might run into each other, and that would be awkward as fuck.

He might pretend he doesn't know me. Or he might get angry that his secret is no longer a secret.

We never talked about these things, like what he does for a living or his plans for the future, and now I wish we did.

But I was the one who said no to the idea of him, so now I have to roll with it and adjust.

I shift my focus to my mother and give her the truth about the apartment.

"That apartment feels perfectfor me. It takes my mind away from men and having a serious relationship right now." I flick my hand up. "What you're saying about them makes perfect sense to me," I add quickly. "But I don't know where to find those men. Anyway, it might not be in the cards for me. If that's the case, I'mfinewith it."

‘There was urgency in Jax London's approach,' the voice inside my head points out in a phony meek tone.

If only I could swat that little bugger away.

Yes, the voice is right. And now, I'm wondering why.

What was Jax's plan? Did he want me to be a mafia wife? Drag me into a life of crime?

And is that really out of the question?

Everything he's done to me… The way he barged into my existence, staked his claim and gave me gifts.

He is not the kind of man who pussyfoots around a woman, or anyone else, for that matter.

And why do I like it so much?

I'm frankly appalled with my tastes in men.

"Then buy the damn apartment," my mother says. "Get busy with that, and let life surprise you. Maybe you're right. Men are overrated anyway," she jokes.

I struggle to laugh, sneaking a glance at Jax's table.

The server brings their food while he pushes the chair back and rises from his seat.

My first reaction is to duck under the table, and I stifle it at the last moment.

Oh, shit. Where is he going?

I flick my eyes across the restaurant.He seems to be moving toward the exit.

Why?

Is he leaving?

Or are they waiting for someone, and he's going there to pick them up?

I hope it's not a woman.

That would complicate things.

"I think I need to use the restroom," I say, bringing my eyes back to my motherjustas she notices my lack of focus again.

"All right," she says. "Do you want me to order dessert?"

"Yes, please. Chocolate mousse pie for me. It's the best."

With that, I slide out of my seat and quickly walk away.

MELODY

I spend toomuch time in the bathroom, trying to think things through whilegetting more confused than ever.

I knew he was bad news. I knew he would tear me apart, yet the more I think about his life, the more drawn I am to him, which makes no sense.

I usually make more sense than that, yet here I am.

Thinking about him makes my pulse race and my knees shake.

That's how I felt on Monday after we fucked in the bathroom, and he spent an hour in the conference room.

We haven't talked since.

I was happy he was gone and deeply unhappy that I couldn't see how he and I could be together in real life.

And now, it seems even less probable.

Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, and, in time, these things will take care of themselves.

We either find a way, or we don't, and things unravel.

Maybe we'll get bored, and other things will happen.

Being cynical or leaving things to chance is also unlike me, but I can't see how this could work for us.

And I feel so bad about it that my eyes sting with tears. I look in the mirror and try to push back the conflicting emotions.

Later, I leave the restroom, reach the end of the corridor, and stop to look around the restaurant.

He's not back at the table. Maybe he left.

Jax London issmart, cunning at times, and definitely a charming man, but he has a side to him I know nothing about and have never gotten the chance to see.

The people he is dealing with and the altercation at the diner are enough red flags.

Yes, he'd been attacked. But he knocked out that guy cold with a single well-placed jab.

Inattentively, I begin beelining for my mother's table when I inadvertently encounter a waiter carrying a tray of food.

I halt and step back, allowing him to squeeze by before I spin around and collide with a man not far from my mother's table.

We both turn around and lock eyes, and I wish I could vanish. From the get-go, I can tell Jax is not happy that he's bumped into me here.

Completely taken by surprise, he can't tear his eyes away from me. Andnot because I look particularly lovely today or that he missed me. But because he's forced to weigh his options while trying to understand what isgoing on.

I hopehe"s not under the impression thatI followed him here.That would be stupid.

So, to erase that feeling and clarify things for my mother, who's watching us from the side, I speak first.

"Mr. London. What a surprise?" I say and he quickly gets the hint, not amused in the slightest.

Jax is a street smart man, so he quickly orients himself, following the direction of my gaze and noticing my mother.

Now you can't tell at a glance that she and I are related, but hegets it thatI'm here with her.

"A surprise, indeed," he says, shifting his eyes to me,and trying to read my expression as he usually does when he wants to know whether I'm okayor not.

I don't think he can see much on my face other than I am tense and puzzled, just as he is.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he says in a harsh voice, his eyes drilling into mine.

"It's a nice restaurant," Itoss backa platitude."Are you here with business?" Igo onin a biting voice, putting him on notice that I know about the men at his table.

Some of my simmering anger finds its way out, and he looks at me differently.

I'm sure wewould've had an argument about it if we weresomeplaceelse.

"What about you? Lunch with family?" he says, a tense smile tugging at his lips.

And that's his move.

He swings his gaze to my mother, who witnesses our exchange with wide eyes.

Jax is dressed nicely in a dark suit and a dress shirt without a tie, but he has dangerous written all over him, more so with his sexy stubble, jewelry, tattoos, and piercing eyes.

And my mother is no novice.She's good at picking up vibes from people.

Her eyes gleam with interest when he pivots to her, extends his hand out, and introduces himself.

"Jax London," he says, flashing a smile that makes my mother melt.

Oh, no.

A rush of blood colors her cheeks, and her eyes are dewy like grass in the morning.

She looks like she's slipped into a trance as she offers her hand, unable to tear her eyes away from his magnetic gaze.

Like mother, like daughter.

I secretly roll my eyes while they exchange sweet pleasantries that make me gag.

I'm never in control whenhe"saround.He always finds a way to do whatever he pleases.

There is nothing inherently malicious in wanting to introduce yourself, but, in his case, it must be part of his plan to take over my world and now my mother.

He's testing me, for sure,still angry, the tension between us suffocating like a thick fuzzy blanket.

I'm not sure whether he's talking about what he does for a livingor not, but my mother shifts her gaze to me, her hand hostage to his grip, as she gives me a girlish smile.

"You've never mentioned Mr. London."

From all I know, Mr. London might be a mafia man. And he barely made it not to be a murderer.

But nothing in his demeanor makes the alarm bells go off in my mother's head.

Nothing.

He's smooth, articulate, and magnetic––his magnetism could rotate the earth's magnetic poles if he had tried hard enough––and omnipotentwhen it comes towomen.

"Melody and I have met in business circumstances," he says, throwing me a lifeline. "The presentation wasextremely helpful, Miss Hill," he says, holding myeyesand offering someof thatfake charm while boiling with frustration.

He doesn't like this fake situation more than I do, but we're caught in it, and it's mostly my fault.

Although nowthere may be other things at play, like his secrets, for instance.

I know he didn't want me to see those men, which makes me think they play an important role in his life.

And now that it's happened, this has become a hurdle.

He eventually pulls his eyes away from me, wrapsitup, gives me a quick nod, and swiftly walks away.

My mother's stare is pinned on my face while my eyes are glued to his back.

He goes straight to the table, reclaims his seat, his back still turned to me, andgoes onabout his life.

Eventually, I meet my mother's gaze and slump into my seat like a pile of unfolded laundry.

"Who is this man?" she asks under her breath, still mesmerized with him.