With the oven at the correct temperature, I prepare the last of the pre-packaged holiday cookies. I pull apart dough rounds, placing each one roughly two inches apart on a baking sheet.
Easy enough.
The small green trees decorated with little red ornaments stamped in the center makes me wish we were back at the beginning of December. With New Year's right around the corner, it feels like the past couple of months have flown by.
Probably because I've spent every single day with Axel.
You would think baking a pre-made, pre-cut sugar cookie would be fairly simple, but not for Eliza. She spent over an hour in the kitchen and watched several how-to videos online so she wouldn't ruin them, only to have the batch burn to a crisp.
More like scorched—adhered to the pan.
After an angry lecture-filled call from the property management company—thanks to the smoke alarm going off—I took over. I scrubbed the baking sheet for at least twenty minutes, then threw it out, calling it a lost cause. The charred smell lingered for hours. Liza is now banned from entering our kitchen.
For real this time.
I pop in a new batch and set the timer before hopping onto the counter. The cloudy haze that filled this space earlier has lifted, allowing a breath of fresh air to fill my lungs.
How the fuck did she not notice smoke spewing from the oven?
I roll my eyes as I lean over to rinse my hands in the overpriced kitchen sink. The custom fireclay basin, handcrafted in Italy, is too rich for my blood, but per usual, Liza had to have it.
Italy.
My mind wanders to Axel as I stare at the warm water splashing against my palms. Our first dinner together where he surprised me with fluent Italian replays in my head. I knew from that night there was so much more to him. He wasn't just a pretty face with a cocky attitude.
I was consumed by desire and lust, determined to learn more about the man that sat before me. The man that made me want to cave to primal desires I had buried.
I didn't expect our relationship to evolve so quickly, but the way our pasts intertwine makes me push aside any lingering doubts.
This has to be fate or some shit. Right?
My emotional walls aren't slowly breaking down, they've collapsed to the ground. He makes me vulnerable. I know this should terrify me, but it doesn't. Not anymore. There's nothing I can do to stop these feelings.
I'm utterly in love with Axel Carrington.
My fear of a broken heart slips away as the feeling of him being taken from me replaces it. I worry for what's to come. The idea of him and Mickey taking on a cartel makes my anxiety peak, especially with them being so damn confident.
But there's nothing I can do. I just have to sit back and wait fifty-two more days until this is all over. Then I can stop holding my breath. Only fifty-two days until we are free of uncertainty. Fifty-two days until he's finally safe.
Just fifty-two fucking days.
The stove timer disrupts a potential downward spiral and I hop down to check the cookies. I peer inside, seeing the dark golden coloring around the edges.
Spotting several oven mitts in a bottom drawer with tags still on them, I grab one and slide my hand in.
When did we buy these?
Considering my best friend doesn't really know her way around a kitchen—unless a certain chef is involved—I'm not sure why we own a matching pot holder set.
Though I don't think she and Chef Tanaka did any cooking in Japan.
Raising my shoulders to my ears, I cringe at the thought of her with him. A small gag leaves my throat.
Ah. Shit!
I overcooked them. I swiftly spatula the treats onto a plate so the bottoms don't burn as they cool. The tip of my finger grazes the hot pan while lifting a stubborn tree. "Ow—Fuck."
"Hey! Don't get any blood on my cookies!" Mickey sprints into the kitchen wearing only fuzzy Santa pajama pants.
Does he own any shirts?
"I'm fine. Thanks for asking." I roll my eyes and shake my head.
"They're done!" He hollers to the rest of the guests that have taken a permanent residence in our home since Thanksgiving.
"Milk with mine!" Bjorn barks from the living room. "And none of that almond or soy shit you millennials drink."
I liked him better when he only grunted.
"Need any help, baby?" Axel strolls into the kitchen, rocking the same holiday pants as Mickey.
Eliza thought these matching pajamas would be a great gag gift, jokes on her—the guys now live in them.
"I've already finished." I put a glass dish in front of them on the island and grab some milk from the fridge.
He smirks, looking at Mickey. "Well, I would've come sooner." They laugh and high five.
I officially live in a frat house.
Liza runs in wearing her Santa PJs, too, gaming controller in hand. Shoving the guys out of the way, she grins and reaches for a cookie. "Thanks, Liv."
Mickey grabs it from her hand as she leans in for a bite. Before he can eat it, Axel rips it from his fingertips. They burst into laughter, fighting over the plate of holiday treats like some sort of dysfunctional family.
Correction—not a frat house. I'm now a mom of four.
"Alright. Fun's over," Axel orders. Wrestling the other children, he lunges towards the broom closet. "We're making a mess."
Mickey nods and reaches for paper towels to wipe the counters. His newly grown-out facial hair—if you can even call it that—now covered in crumbs.
"Wait!" Liza grabs Mickey's hand, jerking him back towards her. "You have food on your face."
He wipes at his chin knocking more crumbs to the floor. "Did I get it?"
She shakes her head and pulls his face closer then licks his cheek. "Now they're gone."
I wish I could unsee that.
"What the fuck?!" Axel makes a face and throws the dustpan at their feet. "Get a goddamn room."
They ignore him and proceed to make out in front of us, entangling their tongues outside of their mouths for us to see. Axel makes regurgitating sounds and I chuckle at the chaos unfolding.
Never a dull moment.
Bjorn impatiently stomps into the room and I hand him a saucer with a glass of milk.
"Thanks." He grumbles and heads back to the living room that he's now claimed as his man cave.
A man cave where you watch trashy reality TV and eat sugar cookies in your Santa Claus pajamas.
"Can we talk about the New Year's Eve Party this weekend?" Liza comes up for air before giving Mickey a small peck on the nose. "I really want the guys to come and I talked to Chad. He said—"
"No," I interrupt, placing the dirty pan in the sink. "It's not a good idea."
Axel slinks his arms around my waist from behind, pushing his fingertips under my camisole. My senses go wild with his touch. He rests his chin on my bare shoulder, prickling my skin with his stubble as I wash the dishes.
"Olivia," he whispers, his hot breath tickling my neck. "Will you please listen to them? Mickey needs to get out of this house for a bit."
"So go to yours," I sass, pushing him back.
He wrinkles his forehead, a frown forming on his lips. "Is that what you want?"
"No!" I snap back. "I want you both to stay, but I can't keep being the bad guy with you three." I look at Liza as she mouths an apology. "You're all adults. You don't need my permission to go. Do what you want."
"We have a plan," Mickey chimes in, trying to get me on board. "We are complying with what Agent Devereux said." He rubs the back of his neck, just like Axel does when he's nervous. "Well, mostly."
"I'm listening." I nod and Axel excitedly squeezes my hips at the taste of freedom.
"Chad is having his annual New Year's party at his club downtown," Liza explains. "And I convinced him to do no cameras. A completely private event with a separate V.I.P. area for us."
"What about paparazzi?" They aren't easy to avoid.
"Already covered!" Mickey interjects. "Chad said we could enter through the building next door. Some staffing company he owns."
"And what are you doing for him in return?" I raise an eyebrow at Liza. "We both know Chad doesn't do anything for free."
"I'm promoting his businesses on my socials." She shrugs. "And scheduling a photo shoot at his club if we survive the night unscathed."
Mickey's hands ball into fists, his knuckles turning white. "The prick wants to direct it, too," he says through gritted teeth.
"I've done shoots with creepy dudes before, babe." She laces her fingers into his. "I can handle myself. It's part of my job."
"I'm surprised your agent okayed it."
"He owed me one."
"Well, it sounds like you've done everything you can to make it safe. I hope you guys have fun." I go back to scrubbing the pan in the sink.
Axel cuts off the water and grabs my arm, spinning me around. "You aren't going?"
I shake my head no in response.
"Why?" Mickey questions. "You just said it's safe enough."
"Chad is Jack's best friend," Liza answers for me.
"The fuck?!" Axel's brows furrow and his facial expression shifts, scowling at Mickey. "Why the hell didn't anyone mention this to me earlier?"
Probably because you'd shut down their plan immediately.
"He said Jack wouldn't be there." Mickey replies, sensing his best friend's hatred for my ex. "We've planned everything perfectly. Nothing can go wrong."
Famous last words.