Page 103 of Eyes in the Shadows
The soreness on my ass, on the other hand, is only skin deep.
God, anytime he wants to try to spank the self-doubt out of me again, I will happily submit.
I hop in the shower, since Mac’s text didn’t sound particularly urgent, and put on some soft clothes in preparation for spending another day in paradise. Some people in my position would probably have gone stir crazy by now, but I’m finding that I genuinely enjoy my day spent planning and cooking, feeding these guys, and doing whatever I feel like in soft pants that have a drawstring.
Padding down to the first floor, I hang a right where I’d normally go left towards the kitchen and approach Wesley’s study. I don’t make a habit of being on this side of the first floor—even though it has all the other rooms for entertainment purposes, I hate feeling like I might bother him. He’s always typing furiously or talking to someone through his headset in a low voice.
“All I’m saying is, as far as nicknames, The Exterminator isn’t bad,” I hear Mac arguing from the room at the end of the hall.
“Like, ‘I’ll be back, but you won’t’?” Wesley laughs.
Feeling a little silly because it’s open, I knock on the door. Wesley is reclining back in his office chair, arms crossed, facing Mac, who’s got his torso turned, leaning with his elbow over the back of his. Mac jumps up when he sees me, and comes around the desk. He meets me with a kiss, and grabs the other chair to start dragging it around.
“Morning, darlin’. Do I need to ask how you slept?” he says with a wink.
I can sense Wesley’s eyes on us, so my face starts heating involuntarily. It feels like I’m a teenager, kissing my boyfriend in front of my parents. “So good it’s not morning anymore,” I say. “What’s up—what did you need me for?”
“Hang on just a tick, I’ll get Dimitri back…” Wesley says, leaning forward and pressing a few keys.
Mac gestures to the chair that puts me between him and Wesley, facing all the screens. I feel a little like I’m entering a cockpit, or Batman’s secret lair where he watches all of Gotham. This many screens is honestly overwhelming—I don’t even know where to look.
Suddenly, Dimitri’s angry face fills the screen. “I was just about to take a piss, must you—” he cuts himself off, seeing me.
“Hi,” I say to him, waving a little awkwardly at the camera.
His scowl softens. “Hello, Eleanor,” he says, much more gently.
“This is about the job—Rossi?” I guess, glancing side to side. I push my chair back a little so I can have all three of them in my view at the same time. “I’ll help however I can.”
Mac places a hand on my leg and gives it a little squeeze that shoots right to my nipples, tightening them. I hope that the desire he sparks—even from such an innocent touch—never fades.
“We’ll get to that,” he says. “First, some questions about the other night, in the restaurant, when Rossi and the Mayor showed up. As much as you can remember, can you walk us through exactly what happened?”
“Um, sure. So, you left and I was sitting there and the executive chef came by to chat. We were talking about… um, substitutions being annoying to deal with inthe kitchen and the mayor interrupted. He put his hand on my shoulder, like to say sorry for interrupting—” Mac makes a low grumbling noise of disapproval, for which I shoot him a private kind of smile. “He shook hands with the chef, and was saying, like, he was looking forward to the meal. He asked if Chef Anh had met his business partner, Jay Rossi—”
“Business partner? That’s the exact phrase he used?” Mac asks.
I falter. “Uh…”
“Not, my friend? Or, restaurateur, or something like that?”
“No, it was definitely business-y. I remember because they were both wearing suits and I thought it made sense because they looked like they were coming from some kind of meeting. Maybe he said associate?”
Wesley and Mac look at each other.
“Associate implies something different than partner, but either way he’s stressing a business connection,” Mac is pointing out to Wesley, who’s nodding thoughtfully. He turns back to me. “What happened after that?”
“Um… Chef Anh said something that was kind of an inside joke with me and kind of at the mayor’s expense, so he turned to look at me for the first time. Asked my name,” I look down, feeling my cheeks heat, “I gave it… I didn’t think to lie—”
“That is not important. Go on,” Dimitri interrupts impatiently. For some reason, the fact that he’s the one that says it relieves my guilt more than Mac or Wesley might have. Maybe it’s because Dimitri has never sugar coated anything he’s said to protect my feelings, so I know he really means that this thing I thought was a massive fuckup is not important.
“Rossi looked at me, too, and I think he recognized my name.”
“Did the mayor?” Wesley asks.
“I don’t think so,” I shake my head. “If he did, he hid it really well.”
“Then what?”
