Page 10 of Trapped for Christmas

“I know, I know, but you’ve made it clear that nothing is ever going to happen between you two, so you can’t interfere when he has a relationship with someone else.”

“I’m just looking out for him. He’s been through so much, and we probably don’t know the half of it. I’m just worried about him attracting the wrong guy again.”

“You wouldn’t be the wrong guy for him, Mason, and you know that. You’d give him everything he needs, and I don’t just mean in the bedroom.”

Mason shook his head. “I was worried you were getting serious and soppy then.”

“Look, if you want to find out more about this Kaden guy, then I know someone who can help, but if Zeb finds out, it could blow up in your face. You know that, don’t you?”

“If the guy checks out, I’ll step back and be happy for him. I just need to be certain, so I’d appreciate your help.”

Mason had said to Deacon that he had his own people, but he didn’t really know anyone who could do this. That was Sebastian and Ethan’s domain, but Ryder had his contacts as well. They agreed to keep it between themselves. Sebastian had already made his feelings clear, and he kept nothing from Charlie, so word would get back to Zeb. Ryder could be a gossip, but with something like this he would keep his mouth shut. Ryder suggested Mason sleep on it for forty-eight hours before hiring the guy, and he agreed. He knew his feelings for Zeb were skewing his view, but he’d also trusted his gut for forty years, and something felt wrong.

Once he was in the kitchen, time flew by. This was where he was happiest, creating meals for people, which they would enjoy and then talk about to their family, friends, colleagues, and even a random stranger on the subway. His food was presented in the expected way for a fine dining restaurant, but one thing he’d stuck to from the time he opened was that his portions would be generous, and the food would be hearty, recognizable, and with just a dash of pretentiousness on top—like the homemade black truffle mayonnaise.

“Chef, there’s someone out the front looking for Zeb,” said one of his servers. “We told them he wasn’t here, and they asked if they could drop some of his stuff off.”

Mason tensed. He didn’t like the sound of that. Was it Kaden?

“Did he give a name?”

“It’s a woman, and no, she didn’t. She said she was one of his roommates.”

“I can speak to her,” said Hunter.

No chance was that happening. First, they didn’t know who this woman was, or if she was dangerous. Deacon would be furious if anything happened to Hunter. And second, if Hunter spoke to her, there was a high probability he wouldn’t share any of it with Mason.

“You keep the service flowing. I’ll go.”

Hunter hesitated, but he knew not to challenge Mason’s orders in the kitchen, especially in front of others. Mason wasn’t an asshole, but he expected his team to respect him. Hunter was a stickler for following protocol, so he nodded and went back to his work. Mason washed his hands and headed out to the entrance.

“Hello, I understand you need to drop off something of Zeb’s?”

The woman looked to be in her early twenties. She had dark circles around her eyes, and there was a distinct aroma of grease. This was someone who had been on her feet all day in a diner or fast-food restaurant. Zeb had mentioned all his roommates worked in hospitality.

“Who are you?”

“I’m his boss, Mason.”

“Oh yeah. You’re the hot chef who always looks like he’s pissed off with the world.”

Mason snorted. Not the first time he’d heard that, and knowing she’d probably heard it from Zeb, made him feel . . . something.

“Zeb will be back in the morning. Can I help?”

“I’ve got a box of his stuff here. He said he was gonna pick it up at the weekend, and he didn’t. The new person has moved in, so I had this in my room. His phone doesn’t seem to be on in the evening or at the weekend, and he hasn’t replied to my texts.”

Mason’s head was spinning. What the fuck was going on? Zeb had moved out of his apartment, and where had he gone? Was he with Kaden? It had only been just over a month. Some of his friends had been hit by the whole instalove thing, so it was possible, but why hadn’t he said anything?

“You can leave it with me. I’ll make sure he gets it tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank you. I didn’t want to lug it home again. I’m Milly, will you ask him to call me?”

“Of course.”

She picked up the box from the floor. He hadn’t noticed it before. It wasn’t very large, and it was taped up, so he did not know what was inside. He wouldn’t be looking either. That would cross a line. He said goodbye to Milly and took the box into his office. He pulled out his phone and called Zeb. It was switched off, and not even going to voicemail. What was going on? He called the kitchen and asked them to send Hunter in. He arrived in less than two minutes.

“Who was it?” he asked.