Page 53 of Dirty Little Secrets
“It’s alright,” the chef says with a small smile. “Part of the show.”
Xaiden doesn't flinch, he just sits back, letting the firelight dance across his tattooed forearms as the chef tosses scallions and scrambled eggs onto the hot steel. The sound is intoxicating, sharp sizzles, the metallic rhythm of tools tapping, the layered scent of garlic, ginger, and seared protein coating the air.
“Is this place even open?” I ask, still wide-eyed.
“Not to the public,” Xaiden says, casually sipping his water. “But yes. For us, it is.”
I glance around at the empty restaurant. “How did you?—?”
He gestures at the chef with a small nod. “I own it.”
My mouth opens slightly. I take in the black lacquered walls, the serene trickle of the waterfall, the precision in every corner of the space.
“You… own this?”
He nods once, like it’s just another bullet point on a list of things he controls. My mind reels. I try to imagine the kind of man who can snap his fingers and open an entire restaurant in the middle of Chinatown just to make sure a girl eats after a night out.
The kind of man who knows when you're about to fall and catches you before you do.
After the meal—after I feel like I might throw up a lobster—we head back to his car. He drives like a Formula One racer. I try not to stare at his hands on the wheel, remembering how they’ve touched me.
I shift in my seat.
“Cold?” he asks.
I’m burning.
“No.”
He turns on the radio.Fall Backby Lithe plays softly.
My eyes grow heavy, sleep settling in my bones. I turn my head toward him, watching the shadows play across his face, tracing every sharp line of his jaw.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “The food was… amazing.” I yawn. “It was my first time.”
I don’t know if he hears me. I tell myself I’m just going to close my eyes for a second—just until he gets me home.
27
XAIDEN
Iwatch her sleep, the soft rise and fall of her chest beneath the sheets. I carried her through the garage, up the elevator, and straight into my penthouse. Every step, I told myself not to look too closely at the curve of her thighs, the scent of her hair, or the way her body curled perfectly into mine.
I didn’t bring her to my favorite restaurant to show off. I brought her there because for some unhinged reason, I didn’t want her to think I was a complete asshole. Keeping her at arm’s length has proven to be the biggest challenge.
She shifts in the bed, her skirt riding higher on her hips. I step closer and tug the sheet over her bare legs, telling myself to behave.
She’s your secretary, you fucking idiot.
It doesn’t matter how good she looks in a bra or how those hips moved. She isn’t for me.
Still, I check the security feed making sure the motion alert is active. Just in case. It’s not just about control. It’s about making sure she’s safe. The last thing I want is for her to choke on her vomit. I don’t think she’s the type to go out and get drunk on the weekends.
I head to my room and glance at the clock and it’s 4 a.m. Unable to sleep with thoughts about her in the next room. I head for the shower.
The cold water feels like punishment. My hands brace against the tiles as freezing needles pound against my back. I close my eyes and try to conjure any womanbutNori. But the image won’t go away. Her lips. Her thighs. The way her eyes slide over my skin makes me aware of every tattoo I have inked on my skin.
Red was the only outlet I had. She let me purge these twisted thoughts, let me pretend I was fucking someone else. Every thrust into her body was a failed exorcism of Nori. But even Red is gone now. Ghosted me before I could return the favor. If I want her again, I’ll have to show up at the club and hope she’s behind one of those doors, willing to let me lose myself inside her and come out clean.
