Page 40 of The Thug And His Doll

“This is the hotel,” I observe a few days later as Drix parks the car, snow crunching beneath the tires.

As the daylight dwindles, the hotel looks even more beautiful, the windowsills and roof covered in a thick layer of glistening snow. Two Christmas trees, adorned with twinkling fairy lights, flank the grand entrance, and outside the grounds are blanketed in at least three more inches of snow that fell last night, adding to its already picturesque setting. This morning when I asked Daisy how long she thought the snow would stay, she’d given me a bemused look and shrugged her shoulders. I’d checked the weather app on my phone and was surprised to find that the long-term forecast suggested at least two more weeks.

“It is,” Drix replies, dragging my attention back to the warm gravel of his voice. He sits beside me, effortlessly handsome in his scuffed brown boots, dark denim jeans, plaid shirt and shearling lined, brown leather jacket.

“And we’re here because?” I ask, forcing myself to concentrate.

“Because Dalton is offering you a job as a part-time pastry chef. If you want it, that is?”

“But I thought…?”

“Dalton has promised to be on his best behaviour, and Daisy here will make sure he stays in line, won’t you, Daise?” he questions, throwing a look over his shoulder at Daisy who’s currently whispering something in Toby’s ear. He looks at Daisy, smothering a giggle with his hand.

“Of course I will,” Daisy replies. “I’ll give you tips on how to handle him should he ignore Drix’s demands. Seriously, it’s not all that hard to keep him in line. You just need to know his weak spots, mainly the fact he’s as vain as they come. If he upsets you, just point out that he needs to get a new supply of Just For Men, and he’ll leave you alone.”

“That’ll do it,” Drix snorts.

“I’m sure that would just get me fired.”

“You’re Drix’s… friend,” Daisy says, using her words carefully. “You’ve basically got a licence to say whatever you want to him, and he can’t do a thing about it.”

“Damn straight,” Drix confirms. “If he’s being difficult, just mention the night I had to use bolt cutters to get him out of a tricky predicament.”

“You never told me about that! Oh my God, I’m going to live off this for the next six months!” Daisy barks out a laugh, and Toby joins in, not understanding what’s so funny.

“Bolt cutters?” I ask, eyes wide as I imagine the situation Dalton had got himself caught up in to warrant Drix freeing him in such a way.

“Yeah,” Drix says, lowering his voice as he leans towards me. “His date upped and left with the key to the handcuffs when she found out that she wasn’t his only… friend. The maid who cleaned the room in the morning found him butt naked and called me after he had offered her a bonus to keep her mouth shut.”

“That’ll teach him,” Daisy giggles, unlocking Toby’s car seat. “Shall we head inside then?”

Drix looks over his shoulder at her. “Would you mind taking Toby? Show him the kids playroom. I want to have a chat with Lia about something. If that’s okay with you, of course?” he asks me.

“Sure,” I agree.

“No problem. See you inside,” Daisy says, climbing out of the car and hauling Toby into her arms. We watch her trudge through the snow, her bright yellow wellington boots sinking into the softness as warm puffs of air lift up into the sky from their laughter.

“She’s so good with him,” I observe, smiling softly.

“Daisy is good with everyone,” Drix replies, grinning. “Except, maybe, Dalton.”

“Yes, she told me about her dislike for him,” I reply, my voice fading out when his expression grows serious. “What is it?”

“Lia, there’s something I need to tell you, and you’re not going to like it.”

“That sounds ominous,” I reply, trying and failing to prevent my heart rate from kicking up a notch.

“There’s no easy way to say this, but…” He hesitates, swiping a hand through his hair.

“Just rip the plaster off, Drix. I’m an adult. I can deal with whatever it is.” I hope.

“Your car’s been stolen.”

“What?!” Air rushes out of my chest as I stare at him, hoping he’s joking. When he doesn’t crack a smile, my heart plummets.

“Your car. It’s been stolen,” he repeats, reaching for my hands and taking them in his. “I’m so sorry, Lia.”

I stare at his hands gripping mine, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles onto my skin. My mind is reeling. Stolen? My car’s been stolen? What did I do to deserve this? Tears prick my eyes as I realise what this means for Toby and me.

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