Page 3 of Crossed By the Stars
My stomach turned, the single glass of saké wanting to come back out.
They’d been in my home.
While I was asleep in the bath.
More shivers coasted over my skin as the reality hit me. I was lucky to be alive.
I flew down the stairs to the front door.
Every lock was undone.
The door was slightly ajar.
For the first time ever, I pushed the panic button and waited for Rana’s team to storm the penthouse.
Dax
OPEN YOUR EYES
“Get up, get out, get away from these liars,
'Cause they don't get your soul or your fire.”
Performed by Snow Patrol
Written by Lightbody / Quinn / Connolly / Wilson / Simpson
I’d barely lifted my eyes tothemorning sun attempting to filter through the fog outside my window when my phone jangled out Dawson’s ringtone. He’d changed it to “Fancy” by Iggy Azalea as a joke years ago, and I’d been too lazy to change it back.
I rubbed my eyes, pushed a hand through the thickchaos my dark-brown hair became in the mornings, and sat up. The sheet fell away, revealing my tan skin in all its naked glory.Clothes bound me at night, making it impossible to sleep. It had been that way since I was a little kid, startling the nannies and causing my normally cheerful parents to worry until a psychologist explained it wasn’t that uncommon.
The song stopped and started all over again. If I was hoping Dawson would just leave a message, I was out of luck.
“You’re on your honeymoon. Stop calling,” I groused as I answered it.
Dawson and Violet had been gone a month and would be gone another four or five weeks before returning to the Bay Area. They’d escaped the world in a way I didn’t think either of them had ever done before, which was why I’d gladly offered oneof my family’s yachts for their extended trip around the Pacific Islands.Dawson had his own yacht, an exclusive Armaud Racing one we’d designed and built together, but it wasn’t made for long-term vacations. In fact, we’d stretched the ship’s capacity when we’d won theConquistar de la Atlánticacup in it two years ago, speeding across the Atlantic from New York to Spain and back in less than five days.
“Morning to you too, asshole,” Dawson grumbled back.
“Seriously. Aren’t you supposed to be lost in your wife’s skin at this time of the day? Or do I need to worry about you losing your touch now that there’s a ring on her finger?”
“Vi’s actually the reason I’m calling. I promised her I would,” he said with a hint of hesitation to his voice, and my stomach fell.
The few times Dawson had lost his confident swagger with me had never been good. Like the day I’d found out he’d been lying to me while working undercover for the FBI to try and bring down the entireKyodainacrime syndicate, using our yachts. Or when he spoke about a certain raven-haired beauty, knowing how it stabbed at me. It spoke volumes that I wasn’t sure which I would rather have at the moment: more lies or thoughts of Jada Mori to taunt me.
“Bordel de merde, just tell me what’s going on,” I groused when I couldn’t handle his silence any longer.
“Did I interrupt something this morning? Or are you in another dry spell? Because I swear, I haven’t heard you this grouchy since?”
“Dawson! Just tell me.”
He sighed. “We need you to go check on Jada.”
Just hearing her name out loud caused my body to stiffen. Chest. Lungs. Dick. Images of black silk haloed around my hips and large eyes full of lust filled my brain. Perfect, bow-shaped lips lilting upward in triumph haunted me. It was the hardest image of her to get out of my head this early in the morning when I had nothing on but a sheet.
There were other images of her I had burned into my brain. Black lace over blue so pale it was almost white. Purple leather and silver sequins. Red tulle. Eyes with liner tipped at the edges to enhance the gentle curves and lush lashes. Hair piled on top of her head, glimmering with highlights and showcasing her slender neck…skin I wanted to caress with fingers and tongue.
It was a daily battle to keep her at the recesses of my brain, and now Dawson had brought her to the forefront.
