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Chapter Ten

Lux

My body is sore as I stretch, reveling in the feel of Dominic’s luxurious bedsheets.

We didn’t sleep nearly enough last night, but it doesn’t even matter. I’d trade all of my sleeping hours for the feel of his skin against mine, for his breath on my neck.

I snuggle against his warm, sleeping body, and he drapes a heavy arm around me, pulling me closer. Why can’t I just stay here like this forever?

My alarm, intent on ruining my life, blares from the bedside table. I grab my phone, stabbing it blindly with my finger to turn off the heinous sound.

Dominic stretches behind me, yawning. I flop back down on the bed, and he instantly rolls on top of me, pinning me down.

“Morning, Luxy.”

Luxy? Cute. Only my favorite people ever called me that.

“Morning, Wolfie.”

We smile stupidly at each other until he leans in for a sweet, soft kiss. My alarm interrupts us, screaming at me again, and I force myself to get up. We dress quietly, both of us seemingly lost in thought.

I don’t know what he’s thinking, but all that’s running through my brain is last night. I lean against the doorframe, watching him pull on a pair of pants. He grins down at me, sending heat waves over my body.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he says, leaning down to kiss the tip of my nose.

Such an intimate gesture. That means he likes me, right? I scold myself, feeling like a high schooler with a crush. But that does make me think—what are we doing here?

It’s obviously not a one-night stand like I originally thought. He seems really into me. I shake my head, banishing these thoughts away. It’s too early to talk about any of that stuff.

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

His eyes are playful, his face relaxed. He seems like he’s not struggling with the what are we question at all. I smile, willing myself to chill out.

“Sure, lunch or dinner?”

“Both,” he says thoughtfully. “If you can swing it.”

I wink at him, placing a quick kiss on his cheek, and climb into my car. The drive home flies by and I’m in my apartment in record time.

With half an hour until I have to check in at the warehouse, I actually have time for a quick shower. I throw on clean clothes and head out the door.

My car’s junky engine starts on the first try, there’s no traffic on the bridge, and I even have time to stop for an iced latte.

Life is good.

The foreman scans my ID as I walk into the warehouse, directing me to a pallet on his right. One of the employees grabs a cart and stacks it up high. Looks like I have a lot of stops to make today.

I skip back to my car, not a care in the world, and hum a random tune as he loads it with packages. My car is practically bursting with boxes and mailers. I climb inside, invigorated by sex and coffee.

The morning goes by quickly and I only get lost once—a win for me. By the time my mid-morning coffee craving hits me, I figure I’m in good shape to finish by lunchtime. I slowly drive down the streets, searching for a cafe.

I’m in a neighborhood I haven’t really explored before. The bars on all the windows are a little off-putting, as is the trash that litters the sidewalks, but I brush it off. I don’t exactly live in the nicest neighborhood, either.

I finally spot a striped awning with a sign that promises “the best coffee in town” and pull the car over. A foreboding feeling washes over me for a minute, making me second-guess myself. Relax, it’s fine.

Grabbing some change from the console, I climb out of my car. As soon as the sunshine hits my face, a rogue pigeon swoops down, nearly colliding with my head.

“Shit!” I scream, ducking down. “Damn bird.”

I shake my head and make my way into the coffee shop. I refuse to involve myself with any more pigeons and their medical bills.

The barista looks surprised to see me, as if I’m the first customer who’s ever walked through those doors. Glancing around, I take in the deserted cafe and shrug. I order an iced latte, and she gets to work, moving at a snail’s pace.

“Do you have a customer bathroom I can use?”

She nods, pointing to a stairwell leading down into darkness. That same weird feeling of foreboding makes my skin prickle just for a second. I watch her make my coffee while I hesitate.

The staircase isn’t worse than the lobby of my building—it’s just as dark and creepy. And the barista will be up here in case anything happens.

Also, I should probably stop reading thrillers and murder mysteries at night.

Determined not to spend the next two hours holding my bladder as I drive around the city, I head to the stairwell. The stairs are creaky, but an automatic light switches on as soon as I step down. I breathe out a sigh of relief and walk faster.

By the time I get to the basement and find the bathroom, I’m internally laughing at my silliness. It’s perfectly clean and safe, and my bladder feels a million times better.

My good mood instantly returns, like the first warm rays of summer sun after a long winter. I skip up the stairs, excited to get my coffee, finish my rounds, and take a much-needed nap before I head to The Velvet Room.

“Was that your red Toyota out front?”

I nod at the barista, grabbing my coffee off the counter and rooting around in my pocket for the change. “Yep, that’s my little shitbox.”

“Do you have a boyfriend…or brother, or something?” I glance at her, confused, but a blush creeps across my face.

“I mean, it’s new,” I say confidentially, leaning onto the counter. “But I’m hoping that…”

“Because a man just got in your car and drove away,” she cuts me off, staring pointedly out the window.

“Wait, what?” I sprint to the window, staring at the empty street. My Toyota is decidedly not where I left it a few minutes ago. “What the hell?”

I pat down my pockets, searching for the keys. I know I had them in my hand when I exited the car.

My heart rate accelerates, and sweat breaks out across my forehead. I run back to the counter, madly focused on finding my keys, all the while knowing they won’t make my car magically reappear.

“You want me to call the police or something?”

I glance up at the barista’s bored face. She stares at me like this isn’t something new for her, like it’s just the routine Friday morning auto theft.

The pigeon.

That goddamn bird.

I must have dropped my keys when it attacked my face. Staring helplessly out the window, I struggle to hold back my tears. My car is gone—but not only my car, the packages. Shit. This is bad, really bad.

“Okay, yeah,” the barista drawls behind me. “I’m calling the cops.”

I nod at her, sinking into an empty chair by the window to wait. A squad car pulls up moments later, red and blue lights flashing as they park where my Toyota once stood.

“They patrol here often,” the barista says, making me jump. I turn to see her standing behind me, checking out the cruiser. “Not the first time some tourist had their car stolen in this neighborhood.”

“I’m not…” I try to correct her, but she’s already walking away, shaking her head at me.

The two officers take my statement and information, letting me know they’ll do everything possible to track down my car. And just like that, I’m left alone on the sidewalk, clutching my watered-down iced coffee.

I pull out my phone and dial the warehouse as I start walking in the direction of my neighborhood.

“Hey,” I greet the operator. “It’s Lux Davis. Can I talk to Mike Waters?”

My stomach flips and twists as I wait for my supervisor to pick up the call. Mike’s a good guy, but he doesn’t appreciate my tendency to be late in the mornings, so this can go either way.

I mean, technically, my car getting stolen isn’t my fault.

“Lux, what can I do for you?”

His gruff voice makes me jump and I try to calm myself down as I turn off the street into a park. Sunshine streams in through the thick, leafy tree tops. The air is sweet with the scent of wildflowers.

Children’s laughter, ducks in the pond, and car horns from the road behind me create a comforting city soundscape. It doesn’t do much to settle my spinning head and lurching stomach.

“Mike, you’re not going to believe this,” I say, plopping down on a wooden bench. “My car got stolen.”

“Damn Lux, you do have the worst luck,” he says, chuckling lightly. “You need to cancel a few shifts until you get another vehicle sorted out or what?”

“Well yes…” I panic, not knowing how to tell him the rest. “But the thing is…it was still full of undelivered packages.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

We’re both silent for a minute. Mike takes a deep breath, and I know what’s coming before he even says it. I can feel it in my bones—another brick from my precariously built sense of safety, stripped away.

I nod, tears slipping down my cheeks, as Mike gently outlines all the strikes against my name. Tardy, unreliable, and responsible for the loss of customer property.

Fired.

I thank him quietly and hang up, slipping the phone into my pocket. With only one job left to support me, and no idea how I’m going to pay the rent next month, I sit on the park bench and sob.