The Man I Thought I Loved (Two-Faced #2) - E. L. Todd Page 0,29
could he be any hotter? He was so confident that he wasn’t intimidated by any event or any person. He had an open mind, not the least bit misogynistic. He didn’t think less of me for my affair with the mafia, didn’t care that I was so devoted to my job, which could be dangerous at times. He accepted me…exactly as I was.
“So, did your ex have a problem with your profession?”
“His name is Evan.” If he was going to keep coming up, might as well just use his name. “And yes, sometimes.”
“I read an article the other day that said the United States was one of the most dangerous countries for journalists. That three hundred of them had been killed doing their jobs just last year alone.” He dropped his hand from his jaw and stared at me, gauging my reaction to the fact that he’d just spat out at me.
“Yeah, that’s totally true,” I said simply. “We’ve had a few people pass away in my office.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, like that gave his heart a little jolt. “And you think you won’t be one of them?”
“No. I just don’t care if I am.”
He stilled even more, as if he couldn’t believe what I’d just said.
“My work is more important than my life. It’s bigger than me. I understood that the moment I started. People enlist in the armed forces, knowing there’s a chance they won’t come back. People run into fires to save other people’s lives even though they may lose theirs in the process. My job isn’t that heroic, but the truth is worth the risk.”
“But the statistical likelihood of something happening to you is much higher than either of those scenarios since there are far fewer journalists than soldiers and firefighters. And based on what I saw in the alleyway, you’ve had a lot of close calls.”
“I wouldn’t call them close calls.”
He didn’t express his anger, but his eyes showed it clearly. He was never easy to read, but right now, the words appeared on the page. He never showed his dislike for my job, but right now, he wasn’t a fan.
“I’ve taken so many self-defense classes, martial arts classes, I have a gun—”
“You have a gun?” he asked in surprise.
“And I know how to use it.”
He released a quiet sigh.
“I don’t like where this conversation is going, Dax.”
“Me neither.” He looked away. “I care about you, Carson. I’d be devastated if something happened to you.” He grabbed his water and drank the rest of it, wiping his mouth on the back of his forearm before he looked at the ocean.
My heart ached at his words. “If it ever does, just know I wouldn’t have changed anything.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, like that statement only made it worse. “Want to get some lunch? I’m starving.” He rose out of the chair and grabbed the glasses before he carried them back inside.
“Yeah…sure.”
Seven
Dax
Loud music played in the club, people dancing on the floor, bouncers hovering around the edges to make sure no one got out of hand. It was a new club in Manhattan and one that Clint had invested in.
I drank from my glass and looked across the room, staring at nothing in particular. The music was a cacophony to my ears, and despite the chaos of the noise and the crowd, it felt oddly quiet…because my thoughts were somewhere else.
Clint had his arm over the back of the couch, talking to a pretty brunette in a silver dress. Franco and Javier were doing much of the same, doing shots off tits and licking their lips. This lifestyle had been fulfilling in my twenties, but in my thirties, it started to feel stale. Every new club was like the one we’d been to before. Every woman in my bed was like the one I’d fucked the previous weekend. Every glass of scotch hit me less and less, because my tolerance had escalated over the past year.
Clint left his girl and fell into the empty spot beside me. “You’re a billionaire in the hottest club in Manhattan, and you look like the saddest motherfucker on the planet. What the fuck, Dax?”
“I’m not sad.”
“Mad?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
The answer was obvious. “Bored.”
He stared at me blankly for nearly a full minute. “You’re bored?”
I nodded.
He looked around then came back to me. “Then there’s something wrong with you because there’s plenty of liquor behind the bar, beautiful women to fuck… What the hell do you want?”