Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 91

My client barely clears the door before I hear the inevitable. They don’t even wait for the door to shut. Addy struts toward my station like she’s about to make her runway debut, swinging her hips way too much, eyes glittering with mischief. “Hey there, gorgeous,” she purrs, leaning one arm on my chair like she owns it. “Can I get your number? Me and my bestie just wanna ride you till your bones snap.”

“For fucks sake,” I mutter as I whip my rag at her hip. She dodges, grinning wider.

Before I can breathe, Layla storms up behind her, fake scowl carved on her face. She grabs my shirtfront, yanking me toward her with a growl. “Back off, sweetheart. He’s mine.” Then she puckers up obnoxiously and kisses the air, loud and smacking, right in front of my mouth.

I shove her back with one hand, glaring at them both. “Are you two done?”

Addy stumbles back, clutching her chest like a scandalized housewife. “Oh my God! Did you just steal my man?” she gasps at Layla, eyes wide, voice dripping fake betrayal.

Layla doesn’t miss a beat, she throws her arm possessively around my shoulders and bares her teeth. “Step off before I rearrange that pretty little face of yours,” she warns, voice low and dramatic, “He’s off limits!”

Addy flutters her lashes and actually swoons, collapsing into my client chair like she’s fainted.

I drag a hand over my face. “I swear, you two should be in a padded room with professional help.”

They both grin like devils, feeding off my irritation like sugar. I point a warning finger between them. “And don’t think I won’t remember this the next time you beg me for coffee runs.”

Layla wiggles her eyebrows. “You mad? Will you tell on us to your boyfriend?”

God help me, I start breaking down my station, tossing gloves and wiping down surfaces like I can clean my way out of this. “Drop it.”

“Drop it,” Addy repeats in a mocking low voice, tilting her head. “Funny, isn’t that what you used to say every time we asked if something was going on with you two?”

Layla gasps like she’s just remembered something crucial. “Remember when he swore he'd never be into Jax? That if anything, he couldn’t stand him?”

I grab my spray bottle like I might use it on them. “Seriously, shut up.”

Addy smirks. “Oh, he’s mad. Look at him.”

“I’m not mad,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I just want you both to shut the hell up before I quit and find a job somewhere more conducive for my mental health.”

That makes them laugh harder. I drop into my chair. “I’m ignoring you both,” I mutter, more to myself than them, as I tug the bag Jax dropped off earlier closer. The damn thing’s heavier than it looks. I peek inside, eyes narrowing, three containers and a large iced drink sweating through its plastic, the ice already melted.

I pull the drink out first, condensation slick on my fingers, then stack the containers neatly on the surface. Layla steps forward, frowning. She plucks the drink right out of my hand, studying it like it’s some fascinating object. “Wait, that’s weird. Why didn’t we get any?”

Before I can answer, Addy flips open one of the containers, and her eyes light up. “Holy shit, tiramisu? Are you kidding me?” She scoops up a spoon like she’s about to commit grand larceny, but pauses just long enough to throw me a look. “Wow. So you get the deluxe package while the rest of us peasants choke on chicken salads?”

“Touch that and lose a finger,” I warn, though my voice is only half serious.

Addy rolls her eyes, shuts the container with a snap. “Unbelievable. No drinks. No dessert. And your food looks like it came off a chef’s tasting menu. What is this unfair favoritism?”

Layla’s already pulling out her phone, thumbs flying.

“Oh, don’t tell me,” Addy laughs, leaning against my station. “You’re actually confirming if those were meant to be yours, aren't you?”

She doesn't even deny it, just says, “Please excuse my pettiness.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “Can you just let me eat in peace?”

“Nope,” they answer in unison, not missing a beat. Layla scrolls a little, squints, then lets out a soft, “Oh…”

Addy straightens immediately. “Oh what?”

Layla's eyes flick up at me. “I'd texted Adam to thank him. He said he didn’t send Jax.”

Addy gasps, then bursts out laughing. “Oh, even better.”

My patience frays. I swipe the drink back from Layla just as she’s about to take a sip and down a long pull of it, the cold biting down my throat. Their eyes burn into me the whole time, two vultures circling. I set the cup down deliberately, meet their stares, and exhale.

“Fine.” My voice comes out sharper than I meant, but there’s no other way to say it. “We like each other. And we’re dating.”

The silence is instant and brutal. Both their jaws drop, Addy blinks first, pointing at me like she’s waiting for the punchline. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” I deadpan, stabbing open the second container. It smells ridiculous, like actual heaven, and I dig in just to avoid whatever looks they're throwing my way. Layla finally makes a sound....half gasp, half laugh.“You...wait...you’ve been denying this for weeks. You swore up and down there was nothing—”

“Yeah,” Addy cuts in, recovering enough to throw her arm around Layla’s shoulders, eyes still locked on me. “You said you wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole. You said...what was it? Oh right, ‘I’d rather lick a subway floor.’”

I stab at my food harder than necessary. Frowning at her, I know I’ve just given them ammunition for weeks.

“Now you're just making shit up. I never said that.”

I dig back into my food like it’ll save me. Inside, though? There’s this weird, relief in finally saying it out loud.

Layla leans in on her elbows, her grin sharp as a blade. “But seriously, Jax? Mr. Iceberg himself? The guy looks like he practices scowling in the mirror?”

Her tone’s teasing, but something hot flickers in my chest. I shrug, feeling oddly defensive, protective in a way I wasn’t expecting. “He’s not as cold as he comes off,” I say quietly. “He’s…he’s—” I pause, searching, words failing me. “Doesn’t matter. You wanted to know what’s going on, and now you do.”

That sobers them, at least for a second. They glance at each other, then drag chairs over without asking, plopping down like we’re having a board meeting. Layla tilts her head, eyes sharp but curious. “So…is it serious?”

I keep chewing, taking my time. Then I lift my gaze, meet both of theirs head-on, and let the truth settle in my voice. “Yeah. It is.”

The words feel heavier than I expected. I glance away, clearing my throat. “We only recently started dating…but it’s serious.”

Addy and Layla exchange one of those looks, some silent conversation happening between them, before they both swivel back toward me with identical, exaggerated “awww” faces.