“Mmm, that makes sense.” She tapped at her lips, flipping to another page. “But maybe it would just be redundant. You seem to have a handle on the back end of things pretty well.”
That was thanks to the fashion certificate course. My chest went hot again. I hated lying, fibbing, or any manner of hiding a pulsating truth. But it just seemed unwise to talk about something that occupied up to thirty hours of my life each week while sitting next to the woman who had likely fired plenty of people for not performing adequately.
“Thank you,” I said.
Axel came back into the living room. Without Damian. “Butch said dinner is almost ready, so we should head into the dining room. And just so you know, Damian won’tbe joining us.”
I frowned, collecting my sketchbooks. “That’s a shame.”
“He needs to decompress,” Axel said, sipping some more whiskey. “That man is constantly decompressing.”
“Like you aren’t the same way?” Cora asked wryly.
“I decompress in my own special way,” Axel said with a mischievous grin. “With you.”
I laughed, hating how my mind immediately went toI could decompress with Damian if he needed.But no. He had that beautiful, brunette businesswoman waiting for him. He didn’t need a wannabe like me.
I followed Axel and Cora into the dining room, where the table was already set with square black mats, gold charger plates, and perfectly folded linen at each place. The table was set for six.
“Are others joining us?” I asked as I sank into an open seat, watching as Butch brought out plates two at a time.
“Just us tonight,” Axel said. “Trace has disappeared since Ian showed up.”
“Ian?” I asked, not missing the sharp look Axel sent Cora. His brows knit together.
“Damian didn’t…tell you?” he asked.
I looked between Axel and Cora, who watched me with serious looks. “No. He didn’t. Is this something I should know about?”
Axel sighed, barely perceptibly. “He’ll probably tell you tomorrow. Don’t worry about it.”
But it was hard not to worry about it, especially when it was clear something major had happened during that meeting this morning. And who the fuck was Ian? My concerns drifted away once Butch placed my plate in front of me. It was a downhome delight, the black plate filled with all the best things: steak, potatoes, and mac and cheese. But it didn’t look anything like my plates from back home. The steak sat atop microgreens, and exciting, brightly colored lines slashed across the plate, unknown sauces I couldn’t wait to sample. The mac and cheese looked like it came from a magazine shoot, speckles of pepper artfully arranged on the top.
“This is amazing,” I said. Butch only smiled.
“Wait until you try it,” he said, slinging his hand towel over his shoulder as he disappeared back into the kitchen. I blinked over at Axel and Cora, who were their silverware from their napkins.
“There’s no way Damian can’t have this,” I said.
Axel only grumbled.
“He hasn’t eaten all day,” I went on. “He had one donut, and only because I basically forced him to. Should I call him?”
“He won’t answer,” Axel said.
“Then I’ll take the plate to him.” I looked over at Damian’s place setting. The mac and cheese steamed lightly, but it wouldn’t for long. The man needed to eat, and he needed to eat while the food was in peak form. “Where did he go? I don’t mind.”
Cora’s smile was somewhere between pitying and sweet. “You don’t have to chase him down.”
“I promise it’s not a bother.” I pushed up from the table, determined to see this through. Damian might be old enough to feed himself, but clearly he wasn’t able to focus enough to actually do it. That’s where I came in. I could see where I was needed, where I was most helpful. And someone needed to remind this man toeat. “Now where is Jessa’s Delivery Service heading?”
Axel watched me with an amused grin. “He’s working out. Remember the tour earlier? Head to the back of the penthouse and hang a right.”
I nodded, repeating the instructions to myself. The tour had been brief, and I’d been too awestruck to retain much. This was the type of place you could actually get lost in.
“Got it.” I swooped up the plate and silverware/napkin bundle and hurried off, unsure if this was regular ole friendliness or wine-fueled insanity. Cora was probably right—I didn’t need to chase him down inside his own house.
But what if I wanted to?