Page 11 of Jordan

He froze and peered at me over his shoulder with wide eyes. I bit back a curse. I should talk to the people who worked for me more often. Not so I was considered soft, just enough to let them know I appreciated their loyalty. Maybe the next time someone tried to cross me within my own organization, they’d think twice about going behind my back if I was decent to them.

Raiden snapped out of his daze. “You’re welcome.”

I didn’t say another word, simply stared at him until he left the room with Latte in tow. That was all the niceties he was getting from me today. I wasn’t going to suddenly have a smile plastered on my face everywhere I went and hand out compliments like they were flowers.

Now to focus on the dinner. Jordan was my son, and I should have been doing more to have him in my life. How did I do that when I was never the father he needed? He wasn’t young enough for me to buy his love. Hell, I was sixty. I should look forward to retirement, not try to find new ways to grow my empire and make the city more secure. But I didn’t see myself slowing down anytime soon, especially with no one to take over for me when I finally stepped away.

Jordan wanted nothing to do with the illegal side of my life, never had. Even the legal one he showed no interest in. He was content to work on cars in the shop he owned or at the home he shared with Dexen and Greer. My nephew also employed Jordan as the vice president of their research and development department. Sure, I had to buy his way into the executive level job, but it was worth it.

Jordan thought I didn’t appreciate what he did for a living, earning money in his shop. In truth, I wanted more for him, but I lied and used the guise that I needed it to look good for me. That Jordan was a reflection of me and, as such, he needed a better job. My son took on the role in Junior’s company, but wasn’t happy about it. It was also a much safer building than when he had the bay doors open in his shop for anyone to drive by and shoot at him. My rivals thought he was weak because he didn’t work for me.

My son, the cause of my fucking heartburn.

If anyone was worth my need to chew antacids, it was him. And I did know best. He loved working at Junior’s company. Without me, he might not have fallen in love with Greer, even though I still thought he could do better than a Lynx brother. So, Jordan couldn’t hate me too much. At least, I hoped he didn’t.

5

VAIL

Cooking for the devil. I shouldn’t be judgmental. It wasn’t like my life was a glowing show of positivity and love. Mixing with the mafia was a different story though.

When Dexen asked if I’d be the personal chef for a small dinner party, I jumped at the chance. I didn’t need the money. I had more than enough after selling my share in a financial firm I co-owned. But I needed to do something. To stay busy and not sit in my home worrying about what would happen with my ex next.

Then Dexen said who I was cooking for.

Jordan Altair Sr. wasn’t a man anyone fucked with. Of course, everyone who lived in and around Dremest knew who he was. He didn’t hide in his home or keep to the dark alleys of the city. Jordan knew he was untouchable, thanks to everyone he had in his pocket.

I understood a bit about that. My ex was the same way. He had friends in high places, so he could get out of most situations. I’d witnessed it too many times to count. Gil was able to walk the city streets after the hell he put me through. I gave myself an internal shake to push him from my mind.

The security at Untouchable was top-notch. Showing up at Jordan’s building took what Dexen did with his club and upped it by a thousand. I didn’t think many people were gunning for Dexen’s life like they probably were for Jordan’s.

I shouldn’t have come here. It wasn’t the smartest move, but I had already agreed before Dexen told me who the meal was for. That mistake wouldn’t be made again.

After showing the guard my identification, I drove the Untouchable catering van into the underground garage and parked. There was no one helping me tonight. Instead, I was in this alone. Dexen would be there, which I was grateful for, but he wouldn’t arrive yet. Dinner wasn’t for a while.

A few men met me when I opened the door and exited the van. They were tall and wide, with muscles hardly contained in their black shirts with their guns visible in holsters. Weren’t they cold? They needed coats.

Men of few words, at least they were efficient in helping me get the coolers from the van and onto carts to be wheeled toward the elevator. Normally, I’d talk to whoever I was with. It was my personality to be friendly, but I kept my lips pressed together as the elevator took us upstairs and into Jordan’s luxurious penthouse home.

Beautiful marble flooring greeted me upon entering. There were paintings hung that were probably worth a fortune, as well as sculptures sitting prominently. This wasn’t subtle in the least. Walking into Jordan’s home, I was met with a display of wealth.

At six foot four, I wasn’t a small guy. I worked out, kept my body in shape. My arms, chest, and thighs were proof of my dedication. But I didn’t have the same level of muscle as the man who met me when the elevator doors opened did. He looked like he worked out every minute he wasn’t protecting the building and the boss within it.

Almost black hair and nearly as dark eyes, I wouldn’t want to cross him. “Mr. Ayers, I’m Reghan, Mr. Altair’s personal detail for the evening. Let me show you to the kitchen.”

The best way I could describe the kitchen when I entered it was too dark and somewhat sterile. Sterile wasn’t a bad thing in commercial kitchens, but in homes, they should be welcoming with warm tones that gave off a sense of comfort. Maybe it was just me. Food brought on the feeling of home. When I thought of it being prepared in someone’s personal space, I thought of that comfort.

Everything in the room was dark gray or stainless steel. The gray cabinets had a shine to them with long, stainless steel handles. The appliances were steel and commercial grade, not that I’d expect different in Jordan’s home. I couldn’t picture him cooking in here. He probably had someone he employed for that. Why they weren’t cooking tonight wasn’t my business.

I started unloading what I’d need from the carts and transferred it to the black stone countertops, making sure I did so carefully and quietly. I didn’t know where Jordan was and didn’t want to disturb him. Getting on his bad side wasn’t my idea of a job well done.

When everything was off the carts, Reghan stored them out of the way. I got to work preparing the dinner I’d planned for tonight. I was used to cooking in a noisy kitchen at Untouchable, but I also enjoyed the quiet nights at home where I could calm my mind and focus on the task at hand.

When I first started learning from my brother-in-law, I fumbled a lot. Dana took me under his wing and taught me how to cook. I still couldn’t do it as well as he could, but I got by on the days and nights he wasn’t able to work at the club. His cooking lessons also afforded me the ability to give private lessons of my own. I’d done them for Dash and his men, as well as Dash’s brother, Slater, and his partners. They were more enjoyable than being in a large kitchen. I liked the personal touch, the one-on-one attention.

Muffled voices reached me, but I paid them no mind and kept doing what I was paid for. My head stayed down, focused on my task. The room was quickly filling with the aroma of perfectly roasted meat.

Just as I was removing the rack of lamb from the oven, Jordan appeared in a suit that fit his body like it was made for him, which it was. I knew Tristan assisted Jordan with his clothes and was obviously good at it. So good, I let my eyes trace Jordan from his polished leather loafers to the navy slacks and the button-down white shirt where it sat tucked in at his waist. A smooth leather belt looped through his slacks. Given the way the shirt fit, Jordan was in shape, with no stomach pressing against his clothes. His suit jacket was undone, and his hands were pushed into his pockets. There was no tie around his neck, but I caught the bit of silver chest hair peeking out from the top of the shirt where the buttons weren’t fastened all the way to his neck. By the time I got to his bearded face, I was fully red in the cheeks at being caught eyeing up the man I was working for tonight.

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