I flash him my sweetest smile. Yeah, Z. Don’t be a dick.
By the time Xander gets back, Zeke has barely spoken two words to me, but his gaze scalds me while I look around. The kitchen is huge. Full of expensive gadgets and marble countertops, but’s it’s somehow warm and homey. Not at all what I was expecting. West has been chatting with both Zeke and me while working on dinner. To my surprise, he looks completely in his element. I never would have pictured West Archer whipping up a home-cooked meal. Probably because I figured that they’d have a team of servants to cook and clean for them.
Xander maneuvers around West, grabbing silverware and napkins and setting places around the island. Zeke hands West a pair of oven mitts without being asked, and I rest my chin on my hand, watching the three of them and admiring the way they seem to communicate without words.
“We have a dining room, but we prefer to eat here,” Xander says after he grabs a stack of plates from a cabinet. “That okay with you?”
“Sure.” I’d much prefer to eat here than at a fancy dining table anyway.
“Perfect.” West pulls a tray of golden roasted potatoes from the oven and nudges Zeke’s arm, tilting his chin toward the lamb joint resting on the counter. “Can you carve?”
Zeke grumbles but goes to grab a large knife from the block. Something about the way he holds it in his hand sends a shiver down my spine.
Despite my nerves and the worry that we’d have absolutely nothing in common, two hours have flashed by, during which time I ate some of the best roasted lamb and potatoes I’ve ever tasted in my life and laughed until I cried at Xander’s funny stories. Even Zeke’s grumpiness has faded a bit, giving me a small glimpse of the man I met at the club last night.
Inevitably, it’s not long before our conversation turns to Grayson News.
“So, you work in the mail room?” West asks.
“Technically, yes. But I’m rarely in there. I’m one of the bike messengers, so I’m out riding around the city most of the day.”
“And you like it?” Xander asks, leaning forward as though he’s genuinely interested.
I shrug. “Yeah, but it’s not my dream.”
“What is your dream then, Lily?” My name rolls off Zeke’s tongue like it belongs there.
“To be a writer for the magazine.” A skitter of excitement runs through me as I think about how close I am to finally achieving that dream. “I’ve had a couple of small articles published so far, but I’m working on a bigger one right now. I’m hoping Julian—he’s the editor—will use it as a feature.”
West nods and takes a sip of his wine while Zeke stares at me with curiosity. It suddenly occurs to me that they might think I had an ulterior motive for coming here tonight. “That’s not why I came to dinner, by the way. I-I would never want to have an article in the magazine unless it got there on its own merit.”
Xander laughs softly.
Zeke scratches his neck. “Why would we think that was why you came to dinner?”
My eyes dart between the three of them. “Well, I know you’re in the middle of a takeover of Grayson News Corp. Everyone who works there does.”
“A merger,” West says coolly.
“A what?” I blink at him.
“You said it’s a takeover. It’s a merger. Two different things.”
I pull at the collar of my turtleneck. Is it hot in here? “Oh. Okay. I just know people are worried about their jobs.”
“No one is going to lose their jobs, and Jensen Michaels should be reassuring every single employee of that fact,” West says, his jaw clenched in annoyance.
Jensen Michaels is the current CEO of Grayson News Corp. I’ve never met the guy, but he’s considered a god in some circles. The devil in others. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t really speak to us in the mail room.” I shrug. “But it’s good to know there won’t be any layoffs.”
West takes a sip of his wine. He could be blowing smoke up my ass about the whole job thing, but I don’t get that vibe from him. In fact, I don’t get a bad vibe from any of them, not even Zeke’s grouchy ass. I’ve spent a large portion of my life surrounded by cruel men who do terrible things, and I’m good at reading people. The Unholy Trinity have been impeccable hosts. Or dates. Whatever this is. They’ve welcomed me into their beautiful home, cooked me a lovely meal, and been the perfect gentlemen. I mean, that latter part is kind of a shame because the three of them are insanely hot, but the night’s still young.