Crossed by the Stars: A Second-chance, Slow-burn Romance

by LJ Evans

  “Do you know if Rana checked the Violette offices before she quit?” I asked him. The pain of her leaving me settled somewhere along the sharp ache of my ribcage. Even though I’d been telling myself nothing would stop the Kyōdaina, I was still furious at Rana for the bomb happening on her watch. I was even more furious at her for walking away.

  “Cillian has Reinard staff combing through it as we speak. They’re increasing the security.”

  I hated relying on him. Hated that I’d been handed over without a say, but my stomach lurched again at the thought of Joel, Ashton, and the rest of our team being put in danger because of this. Because of me and my battle with my father. So, I gritted my teeth and said, “Thank you.”

  I was still unsure of my own volume and had no idea if I was screaming or whispering. The way my voice bounced back at me inside my head was almost as annoying as the pain digging through me.

  We didn’t say anything else while Dax cooked. I closed my eyes and may even have dozed off for a minute or two before he was at my side again. He held two plates piled with eggs and toast.

  “It isn’t much,” he said with a look that was almost shy for Dax. I’d only seen him that way a handful of times in our life, moments that were embedded in our teenage years, like the time he’d given me my very first stargazer lily. His face had been full of the same bashful hesitancy that filled it now.

  “I’m not sure I’ll be able to even handle this…but thank you,” I said. I tried to sit up and winced.

  “Stay,” he said, a gentle hand pushing me back into the slanted position I’d been in so that my ribs didn’t make me pass out. He brought a throw pillow over, set it in my lap, and then set the plate on top of it.

  “Thank you again,” I said quietly, holding back the sudden wave of tears at his tenderness. Charming and sarcastic Dax I could handle, but this dedicated attention to my care was too much. How many times could my heart take him swelling it with soft looks and sweet words only to leave me again without a call or a text?

  He didn’t reply but sat near my feet with his own plate.

  If you’d asked me a week ago if Dax Armaud could cook, I would have told you he’d likely burn the toast and leave the eggs runny. Instead, it was all done perfectly. We ate in a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but was still heavy with my unanswered question lingering between us.

  “Stop figuring out how to shield me from the truth and just spit it out,” I finally said, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. I knew my father had done some pretty awful things. He ruled his kingdom with an iron fist where pinkies weren’t the only things lost if you failed.

  “I told you our fathers and my aunt were together at Oxford?”

  I nodded.

  “They were friends. Élodie and your father were…” He trailed off as if unsure.

  “Having sex?” I said, finding a moment of humor in Dax’s discomfort.

  His lips twitched. “More than that. They were in love—or at least my aunt was in love with him.”

  I already knew the story wouldn’t end well, not only because I was unsure my father could feel anything close to love for anyone but also because he would never have married a French woman. He’d wanted a Japanese wife who’d been raised her whole life to believe she was subservient, that it was her duty to quietly walk two steps behind her husband.

  “Papa and Aunt Élodie made plans to take the tiny custom design shop of their father’s and turn it into a fashion retail icon. Your dad had plans to take your grandfather’s small investment firm and turn it into a worldwide enterprise.”

  Neither of these things was news to me. Anyone who wanted to could read about how the Armauds and Moris had taken the minuscule wealth of their parents and turned them into billion-dollar companies.

  “What has any of this got to do with my father and your aunt’s relationship?” I asked.

  He fiddled with his fork before putting everything down on the coffee table.

  “We’ve kept this a secret for decades…it isn’t something my family is proud of,” he said. “It could ruin us if it got out.”

  My breath caught. This is exactly what I hadn’t wanted to know. I wanted the Armauds’ world to be a shining beacon and not the dark criminal one of my father’s.

  Dax inhaled sharply and then continued, “Your grandfather provided the capital for my family to create Éclair S.A.”

  My eyes grew wide. They were tied to the Moris through money. They were part of my father’s industries. My heart pounded, and the eggs in my stomach twisted, threatening to come out.

  “Oh my God…he owns you all,” I breathed out.

  Dax shook his head vigorously. “No. They paid back Mori-san’s initial investment within five years.”

  My gut twisted. “But it would still look bad if anyone knew your company was built using Kyōdaina funds.”

  “Your grandfather had nothing to do with the Kyōdaina. The investment came from his law-abiding company that existed long before your father twisted it to his use,” Dax said. “But it would be difficult for the world to see that now, to understand that it had once been legitimate when the Mori name is now synonymous with the Kyōdaina.”

  My heart pounded because I knew that this wasn’t all, that what he had to tell me was going to get worse. “We’re still a long way away from anything that would end up with your father hating mine.”

  “While Papa and Aunt Élodie were building their fashion empire and your father was building his criminal one, my aunt and your father were still dating. During one of your father’s visits to her in France, my aunt made the mistake of telling him about a new product they were developing. It was going to take Kevlar and other bulletproof materials up a notch.”

  My heart sank even further, knowing the truth before he spoke it because one of my father’s many companies made bulletproof material. The product was called Shīrudo, which simply meant “shield” in Japanese.

  “He stole it,” I said quietly.

  Dax nodded. “He did, and at the same time, he broke it off with Aunt Élodie because he’d gotten engaged to your mother.”

  I couldn’t imagine the devastation Élodie must have felt. The one-two punch. Stealing her product―betraying her―and then throwing her aside as if there’d never been any love between them. I would have been wild with fury. I would have wanted revenge.

  “She flew to Japan to confront him without telling Papa. I’m sure he wouldn’t have let her go by herself. In fact, he may have talked her out of going at all because there was little they could do about any of it. They hadn’t finished testing or gotten a patent for the product. Your father changed it just enough that it was similar but not exact.”

  It sounded like my father—take what wasn’t his and twist it so that it became what he wanted, what he needed, in order to wield it to his own purpose.

  “What happened?”

  “Only your father and the people there that day know the actual truth, but she showed up at the testing grounds in Japan to confront him. We know your father was there, that she was shot, and that it was ruled an accident. The official report said she’d stumbled into the field without the testers being aware. But by that time, your father already had people in the police and high up in the government who could make the reports say anything he wanted.”

  My breath was uneven, sending more pain through my chest. No wonder Dax’s father hated us. I wanted to cry for Élodie and Étienne Armaud, for the friendship that had been abused. The love that was betrayed. Otōsan prided himself on the fact that the Kyōdaina was about honor and loyalty, but it was only loyalty to him, not to anyone else. Stealing, murder, and treachery were all fine as long as it wasn’t within the ranks of the Kyōdaina itself.

  “How long have you known?” I asked, thinking back to our very first kiss a decade ago. The kiss Dax had promised me more of. The kiss he’d promised was going to lead to dates and love and time together, and instead, it h
ad led to him disappearing from my life for years and leaving a hole in my heart that I’d never been able to fill.

  “My father told me about how Éclair had been funded by your grandfather when I was seventeen. It was enough to prove his point without him having to tell me the whole painful truth about Shīrudo and Aunt Élodie's death. I think he felt like it was his fault. As if he could have stopped her,” Dax said softly.

  I met his gaze, both of us understanding what he was saying about our teenaged kiss, the promises he’d made, and the way he’d walked away. I heard the pain and regret in his voice, but it did nothing to lessen the rip in my soul that I still felt to this day for the pledge he’d broken. Since being thrust back into each other’s worlds because of Dawson and the circle of trust-fund babies we hung out with, we’d both acted like those shared moments of our past had never existed. We’d closed the door on them, hiding them in a past that felt dreamlike.

  When I could no longer take the sadness in his eyes, I closed mine, tears filling them, the truth settling over me. My father had taken Dax from me. He’d taken my first love and forced it beyond my reach.

  “When did you find out about your aunt?” I asked the question even when I didn’t want to know the answer. Even when I had a vague idea I already knew.

  “Two years ago,” he said quietly.

  My heart felt as painful as my ribs. The tears in my eyes threatened to pour out, but I forced them back. I would not cry over this. Over promises he hadn’t made. Dax had come to my hospital room in New London after I’d been shot with remorse and caring in his eyes. With a look that my tired, sick heart had wanted to call love. I’d been abandoned for good by my father, but I’d thought I was finally free. I’d thought I’d be able to move on. Dax had sat by my side with my hand in his, much like yesterday, and I’d let myself believe that there was a chance for us because I was no longer a Mori.

  Dax hadn’t promised me anything that day, but I’d felt the flame that had been denied for years between us, flickering as always, but somehow stronger. I’d felt hope…

  He’d left me to fly to France. He’d told me he had to go home for a few days, and I’d expected him to come back even though he hadn’t even implied it, hadn’t said any words about us.

  He’ll never marry you, Musume, my father’s words repeated in my head from earlier.

  I kept my eyes shut because the sight of Dax’s beautiful face would be too much for the new wounds to my heart. Forget marrying me. Even being in a relationship with me would mean tying himself to those responsible for Élodie’s death… for stealing a product worth millions. Being with me would risk exposing the truth about how Éclair had been created with Mori money.

  We cannot be expected to bear the sins of our fathers, Dax had said. But the truth was, there was only the sin of one parent. A father I hated. A father I’d wanted to love with all of my soul as a child. Who I’d idolized like many kids idolize a TV star or a rock star. A father who’d successfully just slashed a brand-new wound into my heart.

  “How can you even look at me?” I didn’t think I’d said the words aloud, but Dax’s growl of disapproval forced my eyes open.

  He removed the pillow and plate from my legs and pulled me into his lap. The pain to my body was nothing compared to the pain to my soul. He cradled me as if I was a precious object, as if I was something he could keep, and the tears could not be contained. They poured over my lashes and down my cheeks.

  “This has nothing to do with you, mon petit bijou,” he said vehemently, as if he could force me to believe it. “You are brave and honest. You protect the people you care about fiercely. You do not stab them in the back.”

  “My father would heartily disagree with you,” I said, voice clogging on emotions that I never let out unless I was alone. What I didn’t say was that his father would disagree as well. His father would wish me dead rather than see me with his son. While the soft gentle giant that was Étienne Armaud could never be the one sending me threats and bombing my apartment, he wouldn’t be sad if something happened to a Mori.

  It would feel like retribution. Justice being served.

  And I could only agree.

  Dax

  HUMAN

  “If you could just believe in me the way I believe in you

  Your world would be just heavenly

  With our words, we'd speak the truth.”

  Performed by Imelda May

  Written by May / Moak

  Holding Jada’s battered and bruised body in mine was difficult, but trying to hold up her battered and bruised soul was unbearable. She’d suffered the weight of her father’s world on her shoulders for way too long.

  I kissed her temple, a soothing touch. Her normal soft, feminine scent was hidden beneath antiseptic and sweat and fear. Instead of being unappealing, it yanked at the protective instincts inside me, pulling them up to the top of my chest and making it almost impossible to let her go.

  She was crying silently, and if I hadn’t felt the sobs shuddering through her, I wouldn’t have known because that was what Jada wanted—to keep everyone away from her emotions. I just held her because I didn’t know what else to say. I had no words or ideas about how to fix the abyss that existed between our worlds.

  I only knew that when I held her like this, I felt like I’d found my purpose. Screw Armaud Racing. Screw Éclair. Being there for Jada Mori was my only real job.

  A knock on my door was followed by a key in the lock, and Jada pushed away from me, wincing as she stood, wobbling in a way that had me reaching out to steady her.

  Cara entered the apartment in a flurry of bags and boxes. She was followed by one of Cillian’s team members carrying even more. Cara stopped near the hallway to the bedroom, seeing us at the couch and hesitating, as if she should turn back and leave us in privacy. Jada pulled away from me farther, walking slowly toward her.

  “Thank God! Clean clothes. I don’t even know how to thank you enough,” Jada said to Cara.

  Cara smiled. “Shopping is one of my favorite things, and you just allowed me to spend a gob without putting a dent in my own pocketbook.”

  “Give me all the receipts, and I’ll make sure the funds are transferred to you,” Jada said.

  “Oh.” Cara looked from Jada to me and back. “I used Dax’s cards.”

  Jada shot me a glance.

  “Don’t even bother,” I told her gruffly. “It’s not like one shopping spree could break me.”

  I watched as Jada debated cussing me out again for taking care of her. Her fingers clenched and unclenched before she just gave up. Cara moved toward my bedroom and the closet there. Jada followed, and I trailed behind them.

  As Cara began to unpack the bags and boxes, Jada bent to do the same. She winced when she thought no one was looking, and I pulled her hands away.

  “Stop,” I told her. “Just let us do it.”

  I knew Jada was really hurting, because she didn’t even argue. She just let me take over helping Cara.

  “If there’s anything you really hate, just leave it, and I can take it back later,” Cara told her.

  “Or just give it to the women’s shelter on Howard Street,” Jada said.

  It was said quickly and without thought, and I realized that Jada had probably already been donating to the place, sending clothes and money their way—typical of her to hide the good she did from the world.

  “Yuriko and I were texting back and forth while I shopped,” Cara said. “But buying your more intimate things felt awkward. If there is something you really need, let me know, and I’ll go back.”

  “Right now, I just want a clean pair of underwear and something loose to sleep in.”

  Cara pulled out a pair of silky underwear in a blue I knew Jada loved and a nightgown that was more T-shirt than sexy lingerie. Still, the thought of Jada in them made heat swell through every part of me. The reaction was ridiculous, not only because of what she’d been through but
because I’d denied those feelings for too many years.

  Jada’s eyes lit up at the sight of the simple items. She took them from Cara and turned toward the bathroom. “I’m going to shower.”

  “You’re not doing that on your own,” I said and then wanted to hit myself over the head when she glared at me. I knew better than to state it as a command. “I mean…please, don’t do that by yourself.”

  “I can help,” Cara said, eyeing the dynamic between us and reading it like my assistant was so good at. I paid her to read people. To read me. To know what needed to be done. But I didn’t pay her to be a nursemaid.

  I shook my head, and Jada saw. She smirked a little, which made my heart ease a little after the crying she’d done on the couch.

  “Dax just wants to see me naked. It’s okay. We can let him have his little voyeuristic moment,” Jada told Cara with a wink.

  Cara left the closet and headed toward the door. “Okay, anything else?”

  Jada shook her head and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

  Cara was almost at the front door when I caught up.

  “She’ll need suitcases for tomorrow,” I told Cara quietly. “I don’t think we’ll fit her stuff in with mine.”

  “Right. I’ll have someone bring them by,” she said.

  “Thank you, Cara. I truly appreciate it.”

  She looked back at me, her normally professional exterior disappearing into sadness for a moment. “I was glad to help. I can’t imagine…” Then, she was back to her normal business-like self. “Let me know what else you need.”

  She left, and I turned back to my bedroom.

  The shower was running already, and my heart lunged at the thought of her trying to wash her hair and losing her balance, slipping on the smooth marble. I knocked and then cracked the door open. “Can I come in?”

  Jada huffed, “If you insist.”

  She was standing with her back to me, completely naked. She was looking at herself in the mirror, and the image there cut into my chest like a knife. Her entire back was covered in bruises all the way down to the pale-white cheeks that normally had me hard in two seconds flat. She’d always been a beautiful mix of white and black, dark and light. But this…seeing her with purple and gray coating her skin mixed in with cuts and scrapes. I wasn’t sure what to do with the image. To do with her.