“Yeah, me too,” he whispers before knocking on the door twice and vanishing into the dark once more.
Dax stands up the second I enter the office. “Where have you been? You’re almost twenty minutes late.” Thankfully, there’s no anger in his outburst, only concern. Normally I’d be rushing to explain, fearing offence, rejection, a beating…but I think about Ben’s warning and choose not to thoughtlessly react.
My gaze wanders around the room. Dax’s office is the embodiment of the business version of the man. Dark wood panelling, parquet wooden floor, a double-fronted captain’s desk with a brown leather chair. Bookshelves line the walls, each packed from edge to edge with leather-bound tomes. I peruse it all at my leisure, circling around to a pair of armchairs which brace the window and face away from Dax’s desk.
“How much time did you set aside for me?” I ask, instead of apologising.
His brows furrow at my question. His answer stutters out as if he’s asking rather than telling. “An hour…more?”
“Then twenty minutes isn’t a big deal. I’ll only need ten.” I sit myself in the right armchair and nod my head at the other. I refuseto sit near his desk. I’m balancing out the power in this conversation and removing all temptation of what we’ve likely both imagined happening on top of his desk.
“I want to discuss my college course,” I tell him, matter-of-fact.
He sighs as he sits. “We’ve talked about this.”
“No. You told me what you wanted to do and then expected me to go along with it. I’m two modules away from completing my degree. I’ve studied three years for this, and I’ve done it on a part-time schedule, forcing myself to use catch-up sessions and sit in on lectures and seminars I wasn’t even signed up for. I studied during breaks and holidays. I left those kids with Eric to ensure I got assignments in on time. I won’t let that effort come to nothing.” I had no intention of getting riled up, but the more I try to convince him of why this is important to me, the more I realise just how essential it is that I don’t give up on it.
“I’m not asking you to give it up.” he grunts, somehow plucking the thoughts from my head.
But we both know better. “Delaying is giving up. I’ll have no choice.”
“And if I fail and Franz’s men take you next week, or the week after—will your degree be worth anything when you’re used up, drugged up, or dead?”
The fact that he can say it so callously tells me he doesn’t believe it will happen, but the words make me feel sick to my stomach anyway. It’s a reasonable argument too. He’s asking me to be sensible and weigh my safety against my ambition. Normally, if I was in the Vale, on my own, I’d take his advice. But I’mhere. I’m safe, according to Dax, and I’m growing bored without a good reason to get up in the morning. I need a focus, or a mission. Staying safe doesn’t mean I can’t keep up with my studies.
“No. It’ll be worthless,” I admit. He leans back, satisfied that he’s driven his point home. “But, according to you, I’m safe. I’ve paid my fees to the college for this last semester, and I can do thework. There has to be some kind of solution or compromise that—”
“There’s no compromise when it comes to your safety,” he snaps.
I swallow down a sharp reply, staring out at the front lawn and the way the sun glistens off the paler green leaves at the top of the trees. I fight to remain calm and reasonable.
“What if I negotiated with the head of the course? I could hand in a dissertation that touches on the outstanding modules? No more in-class lectures…more like home study?”
He stands up and paces in front of his desk. “You think I haven’t tried to arrange exactly that? I asked for a tutor to come out to the compound, for online support, streaming lectures, one-on-one tutelage, all at my expense. They’ve got neither the resources nor the inclination to help.”
I didn’t know he’d gone to the effort. “You already tried?”
“You think Iwantto put your life on hold? We’ve already fucked everything else up. You need some kind of hope for your future—a path. I want that for you, but the only recourse they would accept is for you try again next year. I’ll pay for it, and I’ll reimburse you the lost fees…”
Why does it always come back to money?“I don’t want your money, Dax. I’m not a gold digger.” The words are out before I can take them back. They give my eavesdropping away and yet this is probably a topic I should address, even if only for myself.
His expression hardens. “I never once said—”
“No, but it’s what others will think, right?”
His eyes narrow as he stares at me. Likely suspecting the truth—that I overheard him and Frank.
“Fuck other people’s opinions! The people who worry that you’re after money are the ones who are after it themselves.”
Huh. That makes a weird kind of sense. It fits what Ben said about Frank too.He’s always looking for the next big deal.But then, wouldn’t that mean Sylvie was genuinely threatened too? If it’s her money and inheritance, why would she fear losing it to someoneelse? It should be a legal impossibility. For that matter, how can Dax spend it so recklessly on me and my family? I save the questions for another time and another conversation, and I let the subject drop.
“So, what do I do? Just hang around growing bored? Stare at the walls? Perhaps I could work? You could put me to use. Let me earn my keep and maybe shut some of those rumours up.”
“I’ve considered that too. It’s something Aiden and I want to talk to you about when he returns.”
Wait…what? Is he serious? “Really?”
“Yes, really.” He smiles softly. It’s the first time he’s smiled since I came in. “In the meantime, have you considered just stopping for a while?”
