I shrug. Truth is Dax isn’t entirely forgiven, but that isn’t what he’s asking.
He pulls out his phone again and taps furiously. My phone buzzes only a second after he hits the send button. I stare at him and roll my eyes. Thrusting my bag into his hands, I pull the phone from my pocket.
Do we have to do it this way?
I’m not sure. I can still see your stupid face.
I could bury it somewhere warm where you couldn’t see it.
Not sure about that either. If I remember correctly, you left me unsatisfied last time.
Exactly why we need to try again.
I’ll think about it…someday.
What’s in the bag?
Clothes.
Can I see?
Someday.
He raises his eyebrow. A delicious smirk creeps across his face at the hint. His eyes are alight again, filled with intensity only tempered by his curiosity and humour. He reaches into the bag and pulls out the top tissue-wrapped package. I watch as he flips it over and peels the gold, brand-stamped sticker away. But, before he can open the parcel, the elevator stops and passengers climb in. He replaces the bundle into the bag and scowls.
“Bad luck,” I whisper as he hands the bag and contents back to me.
The ground floor rises to meet us, the elevator car clearing as soon as the doors open. I follow Dax out to the parking lot where three cars wait; Dax’s, Sylvie’s, and our black sedan tail.
“What took you so long?” Sylvie grumbles.
“Tom says he’s sorry. He wants to tell you himself. He admitted being an arse.”
The surprise on her face only lasts a second before it’s overcome by a small smile. “He did, huh? What else did he say?”
“That he hopes you’ll forgive him.” It isn’t exactly the truth, but it’s close enough to not hurt her feelings.
“I’ll think about it,” she mumbles, but she’s already forgiven him, she’s just planning on milking it for a little attention. Good for her. “Come on, get in.” She pops open the passenger door. Dax closes it again.
“She’s riding with me,” he tells her, tapping the roof of the car twice.
“She is?” He nods as though the matter is decided.
If no one is going to bother asking my opinion, I figure I’ll have to give them it.
“No. I’m finishing my day with Sylvie. Besides, she can probably beat you back to the house.”
“Yep!” Sylvie agrees, slapping her horn and almost deafening us all.
But Dax isn’t so easily deterred. “We need to finish thatconversation from the elevator.”
“Fine.” I wave my phone in the air. “You know how to find me.”
“Infuriating—”
“You can take the bag back with you, though.” I hand over the bag, loving how Dax’s eyes darken roguishly. “I might need both hands for typing, or holding the door as we go around corners.” My grin matches Dax’s. He walks to his car and opens the door, placing the bag on the passenger seat.
“I might as well take the others, too. My security team are not your personal entourage,” he grumbles. The men transfer all the bags to Dax’s trunk. His eyes widen with each pile of bags emerge.
