Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Driving past the “Welcome to Oakengrove” sign later that day, I caught sight of one of my neighbors walking her dog. I lightly tooted my horn, and she gave me a brief wave in return.

Oakengrove was much like a holiday resort. Cleaning and cooking services were provided, and there were plenty of places you could spend your time—such as the pools, bars, restaurants, wellness center, and even the gym.

You could live in an apartment, a luxury villa, a pretty town house, a detached dwelling, a forest lodge, or a Cape Cod-style home like the one I’d purchased only five months ago. It felt like I’d lived in the village years. I loved it.

As I drove down my street, I noticed Harri’s car parked at the curb outside my home. It was no surprise, since I knew that she and Alicia—who was currently living with me—had ventured out shopping today.

Alicia had returned to Redwater a month ago, after she’d separated from her boyfriend of two years. They had lived in New York together, and they’d seemed happy. But she’d recently appeared on my doorstep, announced she was done with him, and hadn’t yet elaborated on why.

Though, since we were only a year apart in age, we’d always been close, I hadn’t put pressure on her to open up about it. None of our family had, because we knew better. She’d talk when she was ready—not before.

Pulling into my driveway, I parked my car beside hers. As I unclipped my seatbelt, I felt my lips curve at the sight of my gray—and somewhat antisocial, not to mention disdainful—tabby cat sitting on the top step.

Gypsy often did that, acting like a lion surveying its territory. She would hiss at every animal that passed—cat, dog, bird, whatever. Oh, and the neighbor on our left hand side, Jenson. But then, I’d come close to hissing at the creep myself.

I grabbed my purse, slid out of the car, locked it with the key fob, and then strolled up the path. My small, two-storied house was pretty as a picture. It had a gabled roof, portico, lattice windows, and trails of ivy running up the cream-colored front walls.

As I arrived at the door, I reached down and gave Gypsy a light scratch on the head. She allowed it for a few seconds but then stood and moved away. At times, she was terribly affectionate and wanted to sit on your lap for hours. Other times, she would give you the honor of allowing you to briefly pet her but would then dismiss you.

“Fickle thing,” I muttered.

Instead of following me into the house, she retook her position on the step. Knowing she’d use the cat flap if she changed her mind about entering, I closed the door. Muffled female voices and the faint scenes of grilled meat, hot spices, and warm rice laced the air, making me smile. Alicia was a wickedly good cook.

Pausing at the hallway tidy, I hung up my purse and jacket and then placed my shoes in one of the cubbies there. I then followed the chatter and stomach-rumbling scents as I padded along the light-pine hardwood floor, making my way through the living room.

The large space was bright due to the white walls and the amount of natural light beaming through the high windows. Pale-lemon cushions adorned the cream upholstered sofa and two matching armchairs. The bouquet of peonies and roses in the center of the round, glass coffeehouse were the same yellow shade as the cushions.

The wall-mounted, widescreen TV was positioned far above the white fire mantel. The industrial ceiling light fixtures perfectly matched the floor lamp and hanging clock.

As I walked into the kitchen, the wall paint became a light gray. Every cabinet was white gloss, and every appliance was stainless steel. The countertops were a shiny, off-white marble. The exposed ceiling beams were the same light-pine as the flooring.

Alicia stood at the large range cooker nattering away to Harri, who sat at the island sipping wine.

While both Oliver—or Ollie, as we mostly called him—and I had inherited physical traits from our father’s side of the family, Harri was almost a carbon copy of our mom. Seriously, she looked so much like Vienna with her pale-blue eyes, oval face, high cheekbones, platinum-blonde hair, and full mouth it was honestly uncanny.

Alicia was somewhere in the middle. She had Dane’s tall stature and long legs but Vienna’s eyes and facial shape. Though her hair was blonde, it was a gorgeous honey shade with hints of strawberry. She also had flawless skin, which she mostly accredited to yoga.

I called out quick hellos and then said, “Damn, Alicia, whatever you’re making smells good.”

She smiled, pleased. “It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes, so—” She cut off as the phone on the counter chimed once. Rather than reach for it, she merely tossed it a scowl.

All right.

Crossing to Harri, I gave her a quick hug and then studied her face closely. “How are you doing?” Her dog had died recently, and the loss had eviscerated her.

Her lips weakly curled. “Better. It’s kind of hard not to think about Gus when I’m surrounded by dogs five times a week.” Harri ran a doggy day care center from her home not far from Oakengrove. She also offered other services, such as grooming and pet photography.

“Maybe you should take a small break and have your staff run it for a couple of weeks,” I suggested. “You could stay here with us, or with Mom and Dad.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured me.

Grabbing a glass from a cupboard, I flicked a brief look at Alicia as I asked Harri, “Did she rope you into doing a yoga session with her?”

“She gave it her best shot,” replied Harri.

Alicia huffed at us. “I don’t know what you two have against yoga.”

“I have not one thing against it,” I told her, setting my glass down on the counter. “I’m just not as camera-genic as you.”

Harri gave her a faint smile. “Yeah, same.”

Alicia only sniffed. She and her ex used to post “yoga couple video sessions” online—they’d had quite a following. Since leaving Dario, she’d set up a separate online channel where she now posted videos of herself doing yoga sessions, and she occasionally included a “guest appearance.” She had a shit-ton of subscribers already.

“How’s work going?” Harri asked me.

I pulled the opened bottle of wine out of the fridge. “Fine. Got a prospective new client.”

Alicia’s brow pinched. “You don’t look too pleased about it.”

“I’m always pleased to have new clients, but …” Trailing off, I sighed. “It’s Dax. Dax Mercier.”

Harri’s brows hiked up. “Oh.”

“Yeah, that was what I said when I first saw his email,” I muttered, letting wine slosh into my glass.

Alicia hummed. “Nothing like an old flame getting in touch to throw you off your game.”

Old bed-buddy flame, to be more exact, but … “That was exactly what it did. I wasn’t expecting it.”

Harri frowned. “Why? Sapphire Glade has an awesome rep. And it’s not like you two parted on a bad note or that you don’t get along, so there’s no reason he’d avoid hiring you.”

I lifted a brow, returning the bottle of white to the fridge. “Aside from him being Felicity Buchanan’s cousin, you mean?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Damn, I forgot they were related. But it’s not like they’re close, though, is it? I mean, Felicity’s dad … Uh, what’s his name?”

“Josh,” I supplied.

“Yeah. Josh. Although he and Dax’s mom have the same father, for a long time Josh didn’t acknowledge that Kensey is his half-sister. He used to give her some serious grief, from what I hear. Their dad, Maxwell, didn’t acknowledge Kensey either—he basically seduced her mom, got her pregnant, and then walked away. Quite a few members of the Buchanan family were cruel to Kensey and her mother back then.”

Alicia dipped her chin. “Josh and Kensey are civil with each other nowadays, but they don’t attend each other’s family parties or anything. Dax and his brothers seem to get along well enough with Felicity in a superficial way, as if finding it unfair to take out on her what some of her relatives did to his mom and grandmother. But, as Harri said, they’re not close.”

“Felicity is a total namedropper, so she tosses Dax’s around, insinuating she’s under his protection,” said Harri. “She’ll brag on how ‘proud’ she is of all Drey’s achieved, and she’ll jabber on about how talented Caelan is. But the truth is, she seems to barely know them. Or so people say, anyway.”

Alicia slid her gaze to me. “She won’t like it if Dax hires you.”

My smile was a little on the evil side. “I know.”

Alicia barked a quick laugh. “Not gonna lie, sis, I’m still jealous you bonked that guy. He is fine.”

She’d said the exact same thing when she’d first realized I was sleeping with him. Back then, he’d drawn my attention effortlessly. Not merely because he got my feminine parts all stirred up. He was just so decisive, elusive, and savvy. He didn’t seek approval or attention. He went after what he wanted, he put actions behind his words, and dear Lord I stood no chance against the extent of his alpha-bad-boy appeal.

Even back at that stage in his life, he’d been dipping his foot in this and that—some things legal, some things not. By the time I’d returned from college, he’d been a force to be reckoned with.

And seriously committed to another woman.

Had I not been deep in grief at the time, it might have stung. But back then, I’d had no room in my head for anyone other than Lake; no emotional space for anything other than pain.

I hadn’t known Dax’s then-girlfriend Gracie well, but I’d come across her enough times to sense she was an absolute sweetheart. Someone I’d felt would be good for him. So I’d been sad for them both when she’d died a mere year into their relationship.

Even though I knew what that kind of loss did to a person, I hadn’t reached out to Dax. He wasn’t a guy who would welcome that sort of thing. Not from someone who wasn’t one of the people in his small circle.

Plus, I’d known he might be of the opinion that I couldn’t truly understand his pain, given that Lake and Gracie died such different deaths.

Cancer had taken Lake—his brain tumor had gone undiagnosed for years. By the time the doctors had discovered it, it had been too late for them to act; he’d died mere months later. He’d had the most wonderful and astonishing attitude throughout those last months of his life; had said that at least, unlike people who died suddenly from accidents etc., he knew when his time would end and so would be able to say his goodbyes.

Gracie’s death, however, had been unexpected. Sure, there were risks for those undergoing surgery, but people generally expected their loved ones to come out of an operation just fine. As such, they didn’t say goodbyes beforehand.

I didn’t believe it made their passing worse or better. Nothing could really make a loved one’s death “easier.” But it did mean that I couldn’t relate to the shock Dax must have felt on hearing she hadn’t made it.

For a few years, he’d—to put it bluntly—buried himself in pussy. He probably now wished he’d never stopped, because his subsequent attempts at serious relationships had ended badly. One bitch had sold her “story” to the papers. A bullshit story that had not only painted Dax as a true bastard but included supposed “secrets” about the whole situation with his infamous step-grandfather, Michael Bale.

Why infamous? Because he’d been a twisted, sadistic serial killer. Michael had married Kensey’s mom, Clear, while he was on death row.

For someone to have exploited the situation by selling their story, for them to have fucked over Dax that way … it was just plain cruel. I was sure it must have hurt his entire family, including Clear—who’d later died only six months after Bale was executed.

Worse, Dax’s only other long-term partner had done the same thing to him after they’d split.

People really sucked sometimes.

Harri nodded, her mouth curved. “I’m more partial to his youngest brother, though.” Her smile kicked up a notch and turned a little dreamy. “Drey is yowza. My stomach goes all aflutter whenever I see him.”

He also played professional football. The “middle” Mercier brother, Caelan, was just as successful in his own way—he owned a very popular tattoo shop that drew even the rich and famous.

Alicia pointed a spatula at Harri. “Drey is too old for you.”

Our baby sister rolled her eyes. “You say that about every guy I call attractive. You’ve been doing it since I hit puberty. I’m now twenty-two, so it’s really time you got past the whole trying to keep me away from boys thing. Also, Drey is like, what, twenty-seven?”

“Something like that,” I replied.

“Too old for you,” Alicia reiterated.

“The same age gap exists between Addie and Dax.”

“That’s different,” said Alicia.

“How?” challenged Harri.

“It just is. Don’t question my wisdom.”

Harri flicked a hand. “Whatever.” She refocused on me. “Will it be weird for you to work for Dax? I mean, casually chatting to him is one thing. Having him for a client is another.”

“I can manage it fine.” I sipped my drink. “I’m just not looking forward to my body melting into a pile of goo for him again.” But it would happen.

Harri grinned. “Do you ever wonder if you guys would have pursued something more if you hadn’t gone off to college?”

I felt my forehead crease. “No, never. We have different things in mind for our future. He doesn’t want kids.” Which I hadn’t realized until after I’d suggested we make a pact to be the other’s fallback marriage partner. Not that either of us had taken the pact seriously—we’d laughed even as we’d shaken on it.

Another chime came from Alicia’s phone. A sound she pointedly ignored, her hand flexing around the handle of the spatula.

Arching a questioning brow at Harri, I subtly tipped my chin toward the phone. She only shrugged.

Just then, Gypsy sprung onto the island directly in front of her and butted her hand, all feline demand.

Harri smiled. “Hey, pretty girl.” She petted the cat, who arched into every stroke of her hand and began purring like crazy. Animals loved Harri as much as she did them. As if they were drawn to her or her energy or whatever.

I adored animals as much as the next person, but Harri … it was almost as if she had an infinity for them. Our dad had thought she might one day become a vet, but she’d said she wouldn’t be able to deal with seeing them injured or abused—she had a soft heart. She wasn’t a softie, though. She had a very calm and quiet alpha presence, which I thought was why dogs in particular responded to her so well and were easy for her to train.

Alicia’s phone beeped again.

Harri lifted her glass. “Who keeps texting you?”

Alicia tossed her a frown. “Don’t be so nosy.”

“I’m your little sister. It’s my job to pry like that.”

Alicia snorted, the crease of her brow smoothing out.

Gently pushing Gypsy’s tail away from her face, Harri asked, “Is it Dario?”

Every muscle in Alicia’s body tensed. “We’re not talking about him.”

“At least tell us one thing: Are you guys just having a bad fight, or are you over for good?”

“Over for good.”

I sipped more of my wine. “So you’re not going back to New York?”

“No. I’m staying in Redwater. I’ll get my own place soon,” Alicia assured me.

I waved that away. “There’s no rush. You know that.”

The set of her shoulders lost their tension. “I do. Thank you.”

Harri drank some of her wine and then put down her glass. “I don’t know why you won’t just tell us what happened. I don’t keep secrets from you.”

Alicia snorted. “Yes, you do.”

“Okay, fine, I do. But I don’t see why that has to be relevant.”

“That’s because you’re spoiled.”

Harri pouted. “Harsh.”

“True.”

“You’re just being defensive because you don’t want to talk about Dario.”

“Of course I am. Deal with it.”

The timer on the cooker began to beep.

Switching it off, Alicia declared, “Food’s ready. I propose we eat in silence.”

Harri winged up a brow, her lips quirking. “So you don’t want me to question you about Dario some more?”

“Don’t be a brat to me all your life, Harri.”

“Why not? It’s way too entertaining to stop.”

∞∞∞

“Good morning,” I said to a well-groomed male seated behind a very modern desk the following day. “My name is Addison Davenport. I have an appointment with Mr. Mercier.” Which my central nervous system was handling perfectly well.

Oh, what a lie.

The PA stood with a smile and offered his hand. “Hello, Miss Davenport, I’m Benjamin.” He gave my hand a quick shake, adding, “Brie at the front desk downstairs said you were on your way up. I’ve already notified Mr. Mercier. He’s ready to see you now. If you’ll just come with me …”

I trailed behind him, my heels click-clacking on the oak flooring, my stomach in knots. He stopped outside a stylish walnut door. A gold nameplate hung there that, along with the company logo, sported the words “DAXTON MERCIER, CEO.” The PA knocked on the door, and a deep voice bid him to enter.

He swung open the door. “Miss Davenport, sir.”

“Thank you, Benjamin,” said a deep, distinctive voice packed with smoke, velvet, and little grains of sand.

Hearing it made a shower of memories pelt me like hailstones. Many of those memories were somewhat X-rated, and it was a total wonder that heat didn’t flood my cheeks.

Fuck, you’re tight. You’re going to feel me for days, Addison.

Forcing myself to loosen my death grip on the strap of my black, leather satchel, I stepped inside. The office was nothing like mine. Luxurious and elegantly masculine, it was all dark woods, shiny leather, and clean lines.

I didn’t take in much of my surroundings. My attention went straight to the male stood near one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, a mug in hand. A pair of mismatched, dark-ringed eyes—one a glacial blue, one a rich green—honed in on me with lethal precision, the whites so clear they made the colors even more vivid.

My pulse skipped, my belly took a nosedive, and—damn it all—an uncurbed, biochemical attraction worked its way through me … leaving me mentally flustered and feeling so very, very alive.

Funsies.

Neat and well-groomed in his dark, tailored suit and black shiny loafers, Dax looked as refined and powerful as he did brutally sensual. There was no denying it—the man had style. And a tongue that could perform sexual magic, but it was better if I didn’t think about that.

His short, stylishly cut hair was sleek and black. A fine layer of dark scruff dusted his strong jaw and the strip of skin above his upper lip. A lip as sensual and full as the one beneath it.

He was way over six-feet. His clothes did nothing to hide his toned build. Seriously, his body was yum. I’d always loved watching his hard muscles fluidly flex and flow in his arms, chest, back, and broad shoulders as he moved. His butt … it was so firm and, gah, I really wanted to bite it. Just once.

The thin, faint scar slicing across the side of his face matched the one on his right palm. Both scars ramped up his air of civilized aggression; warned of the danger lurking within.

In sum, Dax Mercier was a beacon of devastating, unabashed masculinity.

I gave my chin a respectful dip. “Mr. Mercier.” It seemed better to keep things formal; it would help remind me I was here in a professional capacity.

A glint of humor briefly danced in his eyes. “Miss Davenport,” he greeted, the words smooth as silk.

“Would anyone like coffee? Tea? Water?” asked Benjamin.

I gave the PA a grateful smile. “No thanks, I’m fine.”

Dax raised his mug. “I haven’t finished this one yet.”

“Then I’ll leave you both to it,” said Benjamin.

Hearing the door close behind me with a soft snick of sound, I advanced further into the office. Dax slowly stalked toward me, a predatory edge to every step. He held out a hand—one that had done all sorts of deliciously indecent things to me in the past.

Pushing that out of my mind, I joined my palm to his … and might have pulled back if his warm, calloused fingers hadn’t closed around mine, because a little crackle of electricity zapped my hand. My breath almost got snagged in my throat.

His eyelids lowered slightly, and tension turned the air static. Allowing that tension to simmer, he didn’t release me. Didn’t move at all. Didn’t say a word. Just stared at me, his thickly-lashed, steady gaze holding mine with a blatant boldness that I might have found intimidating if I wasn’t used to dealing with such powerful personalities.

I met that unrelenting stare just as boldly, refusing to look away first. His mouth hitched up in a faint, lopsided, oh-so-familiar smile that made my gut twist.

Finally, he let go of my hand. “Thank you for coming.” He gestured at a chair in the lounge area. “Sit.” A smooth invitation that held a daring note.

Pulling my professional cloak tight around me, I did as he asked and dug my tablet out of my satchel.

“It’s been a while.” He sank into the chair opposite me, making the leather creak. “How are you?”

“Great,” I replied, switching on my tablet. “You?”

“Fine.” Dax splayed a hand on one armrest while balancing his mug on the other. “And your family? I haven’t seen your father in quite some time.”

“They’re all well. I hope you can say the same for your own family.”

“I can, thank you.”

How polite were we? I cleared my throat. “Before we get down to business, I’d like to disclose something upfront.” It would be unfair to do otherwise, and I would prefer to know in advance if I was wasting my time here.

He inched up a brow. “Which is?”

Pretending I wasn’t at all affected by how he looked every inch a king in that chair—shoulders back, spine straight, legs spread, projecting authority and self-assurance—I explained, “I don’t know how much contact you have with your cousin, Felicity. You may or may not know that she’s not a fan of mine.”

“Because you dated Grayden?” he asked, his tone neutral.

“Yes. She’ll probably be very unhappy if you hire me. As your cousin, she’ll see it as a betrayal on your part. To be honest, I don’t think Grayden will like it much either. When he and I separated, we agreed that we wouldn’t be in contact”—which didn’t mean he didn’t occasionally call or text me for random reasons, the dick—“and that we’d steer clear of each other as far as possible. He may be divorced from Felicity but, considering they’re back together again, he’s effectively your cousin-in-law once more.”

Dax let out a low, thoughtful hum.

“I don’t want to talk myself out of a job, but I also don’t want to be the cause of any drama or put you in an awkward position. If you would prefer that another company take on the event, I will understand and respect that. There are some very good event organizers out there—I’d be happy to recommend some.”

He pursed those lips that I knew could do wicked, wicked things. “I’m very aware of Felicity’s animosity toward you. But, quite frankly, I don’t see that it’s relevant. This has not one thing to do with her. Or with Grayden, for that matter.” Dax’s eyelids lowered a little. “You were mine long before you were his.”

Choosing to ignore the fluttering in my belly, I swallowed. “Okay. If you change your mind …”

“I won’t. Sapphire Glade comes highly recommended. It has repeatedly been referred to as the best.” Dax paused. “I want the best.”

I gave a slow nod. “Well then, now that that’s out of the way, tell me what sort of event you have in mind.” Looking down at my tablet, I opened the app that featured a questionnaire I used for all consultations. “Be warned I’m going to fire a whole lot of questions at you. I need to be clear on what your wants and needs are.”

His lips kicked up in the beginnings of a wolfish smile.

“Regarding the event, I mean,” I quickly added, proud of myself for not blushing.

“I figured that, since you’re already aware of my … wants and needs.”

This motherfucker. “What makes you think you were that good I’d remember them?” I blurted out.

He let out a low, rumbly chuckle that was all warmth and approval. “It’s good to see you haven’t changed, Addison.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Now, back to the event you wish to throw, I’m assuming it’s corporate,” I prodded, desperate to get back on professional ground.

“Typically, it would be. Not this time.” He sipped at his coffee, watching me so damn intently it made my nape prickle.

Dax could focus on you with the intensity of a leopard; concentrate on you with his eyes, ears, and very being. Like nothing else could possibly hold his attention at that moment. It was a heady thing. It was also nerve-wracking.

He’d always pinned me with that same focus when moving in and out of me.

I’m going to fuck you so hard, Addison. Harder than anyone else will ever take you.

He hadn’t bullshitted me on that score.

“This specific event”—Dax rested his mug on the armrest once more—“will be a wedding.”

The words punched the breath from my lungs and made the bottom drop out of my stomach. “Wedding?” I echoed, glad my voice sounded even.

“Yes. Whether I’ll definitely be going ahead with it, however, will depend on a few things.”

I inhaled deeply, determined to ignore the twinge in my chest. “Such as?”

“Mainly … on whether or not you’re a woman of your word.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“We once made a pact, didn’t we? We swore that if we were both single when you turned thirty, we’d marry each other. Your thirtieth birthday is in a week’s time. You’re unattached. So am I.” He gave a loose shrug. “The time has almost arrived for us to honor the pact. I’m prepared to do so. The question is: Are you?”