knocker, letting it bang loudly against the thick, painted wood and step back, craning my neck to look at the house. Jasmin said Dax has converted the top floor to an apartment. Apparently, he never likes to be too far from work in case there’s a problem. Guilt for being away for two and a half years—Jasmin’s words.
I bang the knocker again before cursing myself inwardly as I spot a keypad. It’s been cleverly concealed away from the main door, hidden behind one of the giant stone pillars. Still, it’s a stupid place to put it. Difficult to spot unless you already know it’s there. Maybe that’s his reasoning. Judging by Dax’s lack of friendly enthusiasm, I don’t expect he likes to encourage visitors.
I press the buzzer. This is a stupid idea. He said to return his umbrella on Monday. But after going out with Jasmin last night to some local bars where she told me how incredible Dax’s apartment is and how the view is even better up there, my curiosity was piqued. I’ve always loved being up high. Dad would take me, Brett, and Harley on walks to the highest point in our town and point out our school and all the places we visited down below.
Somehow being up high and looking down makes your troubles seem smaller.
I turn away seconds before the front door opens.
“Leaving already?”
I spin back around. Dax leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“Um…”
I let my eyes rake over his fitted black jeans and bare feet, before moving up to his black t-shirt. The sleeves are shorter than when he rolls his shirt up at work, and more of the full tattoo sleeves on each of his arms are visible. An intoxicating array of images stretch over his corded muscles before disappearing beneath the fabric. But his neck grabs my interest the most. There were hints of ink there beneath his work jackets, but it always felt too rude to stare. Now I can’t stop myself. He has the most beautiful, intricate design of entwined leaves and flowers covering his skin. And there’s even a bird. There’s more to discover the longer I stare.
“Let me guess. You have virgin skin?”
I drag my eyes back to his.
“What did you call me?”
He chuckles. And it’s deep and gravelly… and sexy as sin. My lower stomach clenches involuntarily as a flutter runs through it. He’s staring at me intently and all of him is… it’s… He looks like sex.
“I said I bet you have virgin skin. I wasn’t asking if you’ve never fucked before.”
My head jerks back. This is my boss. A man who’s barely spoken since I started working here a week ago, except to grunt in response to the accounting updates I have given him. And now he’s standing here, looking like a rock god, and using the word ‘fucked’ like it’s a normal thing to discuss with someone you hardly know.
I let my eyes wander over his tattoos again. He couldn’t be more different from my ex, Gareth, if he tried. Gareth was the typical clean-cut, fresh-faced boy next door. Someone safe and dependable. Only he wasn’t. Not in the end.
I shake my head. Why am I even thinking of him now? We could never go back to where we were, not that I’d want to.
“Good. Because that’s obviously none of your goddamn business,” I fire back.
He rests his arm up against the doorframe, and his eyes twinkle as he smirks against his fist, rubbing his thumb over his lips. He hasn’t shaved today. The extra scruff suits him. All the business shirts and jackets… he wears them well. But here like this, something tells me this is the real Dax standing in front of me right now. It’s like he’s shed some of his usual harshness when he’s stripped of his suit.
But either way, I’m not about to stand and discuss my sex life with him and give him something to laugh about.
“Here.” I thrust the umbrella into his hand and turn to leave.
“Hey.” He grabs ahold of my wrist, gently curling his large hand around it to prevent me from leaving. The same static electricity that passed between us the first time we met crackles again, sending energy buzzing up my arm.
I turn back and frown at him.
“I’m sorry. I just like seeing that spark fire up I was told you have.”
My skin bristles. My family must have told him more about me than I realized. It’s something Harley has been the most vocal about. How she misses my feistiness. She said it’s been absent so much since Brett’s accident and since Dad passed. She said she always loved how despite being the youngest, I was the one most likely to get into a scrap, standing up for her or Brett.
I haven’t felt much like fighting for anything in a long time.
“You’ve spoken with my family.”
“Not much.” His eyes hold mine. “But I wanted to know who I was trusting into my business, even if you being here is a favor.”
I wince at his harsh reminder. I am here as a favor. Because I’ve let my family down. Because Mom lies awake every night, worrying about me and all the late nights and partying. All the toxic behavior that living with crippling guilt brings.
I’ve let so many people down.
“Breathe,” Dax says softly.
I stare into his eyes, my wrist still held in his warm grasp. His deep brown irises are a stark contrast to his blond waves. I’ve never met anyone with such naturally dark eyes and light hair before.
“I can feel your pulse racing.” He strokes his thumb over the inside of my wrist, pressing lightly against the pulsing vein there. The gesture is calming. He holds my gaze until I have to look away so I can do as he says—breathe.
I shouldn’t have come. This is weird.
“See you on Monday.” I pull my hand away.
He grabs it again, tugging me toward him. Heat radiates from his body as I stand before him, my chest inches from his.
His voice drops, softening like velvet, as he looks at me. Not many men look down at me with me being so tall, and This feeling… it’s… nice. It’s nice to feel like the one who could be wrapped up in strong arms and treasured.
“Come and have a tour. I know Jasmin told you I have an even better view from my apartment than from the chair in my office.” He smirks again, and the corners of my mouth lift in response to the glint in his eyes. I’m beginning to see what Jasmin keeps telling me. Away from work, there’s a man with a sense of humor, and maybe even a heart beneath all that ink and those incredible eyes.
“She only told me that last night when we went out for drinks.”
“Yeah, I know.” He looks at me in puzzlement. “I spoke to her this morning. We went for a run together. We talk every day.”
The smile slides from my face.
“I used to run with my brother before he was knocked down by a speeding driver. He uses a wheelchair now,” I confess in a trembling voice that sounds nothing like mine.
Dax rolls his lips, his eyes dusting over my face with a hint of something that better not be tenderness. I don’t deserve it. He wouldn’t feel sympathy for me if he knew it was my fault.
I take my hand back from him again, skating my fingertips over my wrist where he held it.
“Come on. I’m not getting any younger here, Rose.” He smiles softly and tips his head to the open doorway. I walk ahead of him, grateful he doesn’t ask me more about Brett.
Dax’s apartment is amazing. It’s neutral and calming, decorated in mostly white with lots of cushions scattered on the sofa, and modern art on the walls. Maybe Jasmin decorated it for him, because it’s a stark contrast to the ‘bad-boy’ image he portrays, dressed in black with tattoos covering the majority of his body—the parts I have seen, that is.
He’s kept all the original features, like the ornate ceiling roses and the cornicing around the top of the walls. And his bathroom has the most amazing claw-footed free-standing tub positioned in front of one of the giant windows. I bet he spends hours lying in it, staring out over the fields. I know I would.
But the roof terrace blows me away. Chest-height stone pillars join together, surrounding the edges of the space, making it feel like being encased on top of a castle. The floor is decked, and planters fill the space with greenery.
“You can see the cottage from up here.” I rest my hands on top of the stone and look over at where I’m staying.
“Feel free to come up here should my office chair no longer suffice for your viewing and listening pleasure.”
I side-eye Dax. I refuse to give him the pleasure of a reaction. He’s trying to fire me up again. He admitted as much on the doorstep before I came inside.
“Why do you have fish in your office? You don’t strike me as a Nemo fan.”
He turns to me, his brows raised, and I bite back my smile. He was expecting me to counter his comment with my own, but instead, I’ve turned the conversation firmly back onto him.
He places both hands on the stone guard rail and looks out across the driveway toward the estate’s main gate.
“I find them calming. My anger took me away from Jasmin, and I promised her I would find ways to control it so it wouldn’t hurt us again.”
“Took you away?”
He glances at me with a stormy gaze before he looks away again.
“Yeah. Being locked up has drawbacks.” His lips twist into a grimace.
“Oh.” I have no right to ask Dax personal questions. And now I’ve ruined what was turning into a nice afternoon in his company. It’s the most time we’ve spent together since I’ve arrived.
I follow his line of sight over to the main gate where one of the Range Rovers is coming through.
“It’s Logan. We have some work things to go over.”
I chew on my lip. Everything about this afternoon has suddenly turned heavy and stifled. And I hate it.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dax sighs, then pushes off from the guard rail and turns toward the roof stairs. I follow him down through his apartment to the front door to meet Logan.
“I’ve got my own key for the main door, you dick,” Logan says as Dax opens it wide. “Oh.” Logan’s gaze lands on me, and a grin spreads across his face as he looks from Dax to me and back again.
“Hi Rose.”
“Hi, Logan.”
“We’ve got work to do,” Dax snaps, frowning at Logan and then darting his eyes to me briefly. “You okay getting back?”
“I’m only…” I motion toward the trees that sit in front of the cottage.
He looks at the sky. “It’ll be getting dark soon. I’ll watch from upstairs until you get inside.”
“Why would you do that?” The words tumble from my mouth, earning a dark glare from Dax.
He cocks a brow as he continues to stare at me, repeating, “I will watch.”
The intensity in his eyes makes heat fire in my cheeks.
I walk out the door and turn back to face him. “Um, okay.”
I stand stunned as he tips his chin and then closes the door. How can he go from friendly host, to deep in thought and moody, to weirdly over-protective, all in the space of ten minutes?
I walk back to the cottage quickly as dusk settles. The entire way, the hairs on the back of my neck are standing to attention, uncomfortably aware that he is watching my every move.
I get to the front door and pause. Should I wave? Show him I’m here? No, that’s stupid. He knows I am. He’s watching.
I take my keys from my bag and fumble with them, dropping them to the floor. Stupid. I bend to retrieve them quickly, not paying attention to how I do it. Shit. I stand and smooth my dress down. It’s fine. He’s too far away. No way did Dax Silver see my ass in the lace thong beneath my dress. Not unless he has a telescope hidden up there in his comfy-ass apartment.
I take a deep breath, opening the door with steadier hands.
No, definitely no telescope that I saw.
I walk inside and flick the sitting room lamp on, looking out the front window and up to the main house where the lights are on in half of the upstairs windows. The one on the far left is his bedroom. I only saw it quickly on the tour. It felt odd spending too much time in there. The only thing I remember is he has a four-poster bed. A modern one with voile drapes around it.
The light in it flicks off. Is that where he stood to watch me? The idea of Dax Silver standing in the window of his mansion, dressed in black, his biceps tensing beneath his tattoos while he watches me, sends a shiver up my spine.
Only, with the way he blows hot and cold, I’m not sure whether that’s a welcome shiver or not.
Only time will tell.
