Chapter 9 #2
I already knew where this conversation was heading, and my spine straightened in preparation for battle. “And my apartment above the shop? It has a security system now.”
Dominic turned, his expression immediately sharpening. “But no controlled access, and windows that face a public street.”
Blake’s tone carried the kind of careful patience usually reserved for explaining things to children. “After everything that’s happened, with organized crime connections and federal investigations, it’s not safe.”
“It’s already been targeted once before,” Dominic said, reminding me of the night the brick was tossed through the display window. The night he took my virginity, only to vanish without explanation three days later.
“It’s been my family’s home for five generations,” I said quietly. “My great-great-grandfathers renovated it when they combined their businesses. My grandfather was born there. It’s not just where I live—it’s who I am.”
Dominic moved to stand beside me, his coffee forgotten. “And I want you somewhere I know you’ll be protected,” he said, alpha authority creeping into his voice. “I’ve spent five weeks in a concrete box knowing you were in danger and being completely helpless to protect you. I can’t do that again.”
“The corporate apartment in my building is perfect,” Blake continued, his business executive mindset taking over. “Twenty-fourth floor, controlled access, security cameras in all common areas. You’ll both be safe there.”
“Speaking of the shop,” I said, changing tactics, “I need to reopen it immediately. Victor’s commission requires my grandfather’s tools and records, and Penny and I are hemorrhaging money every day we stay closed.”
Both Blake and Dominic’s expressions shifted to alarm. “No,” Dominic said immediately. “It’s not safe to—”
“I can’t work from this penthouse,” I interrupted. “The commission requires specific equipment, historical records, even the original shoe forms from my grandfather’s collection. Everything I need is in the shop basement.”
Blake looked uncomfortable. “We could have the materials moved—”
“You want to move a century’s worth of cobbling tools and records to this apartment? Some of those forms are hand-carved and irreplaceable.” I shook my head.
“Morning, everyone!” Penny appeared in the kitchen doorway wearing patterned pajamas that were probably authentic 1960's gents and sporting impressive bedhead, his pink hair sticking up at odd angles.
“Did someone say something about reopening the shops?” He mumbled, making a beeline for the coffee machine.
“We’re losing money every day,” I said. “It’s not sustainable.”
Penny prepared his coffee with the careful movements of someone not fully awake. “With our regular customers going elsewhere, we’re looking at significant daily losses.”
“Rent still needs to be paid, utilities, insurance,” I continued. “The longer we stay away, the harder it’ll be to catch up.”
Blake and Dominic exchanged a look.
“What if we covered your expenses?” Dominic offered immediately. “Both shops, all overhead costs, until this situation resolves.”
“Absolutely,” Blake agreed. “You shouldn’t have to worry about money on top of everything else.”
“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended. “Absolutely not.”
Penny looked equally offended. “We’re not charity cases. These are our businesses, our livelihoods.”
“It’s not charity,” Blake said carefully. “It’s practical support during an extraordinary situation—”
“And you’re my mate,” Dominic said, his voice carrying that particular alpha timbre that made my spine straighten. “It’s not charity.”
“Maybe not for Leo,” Penny said, crossing his arms, “but it would be for me. I appreciate everything you’ve done for us, Blake, but I don’t want anyone to pay my way when I’m perfectly capable of working.”
“It’s exactly charity,” I added, backing up my best friend. “And it’s not happening. Blake, I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I’m not going to become anyone’s dependent.”
My eyes slid to Dominic, jaw tightening as our gazes locked in silent confrontation. “Even my mate’s.”
Penny nodded vigorously, his pink hair bouncing. “Our shops aren’t just income sources. They’re our homes, our identities. I can’t just… it’s already been too long.”
“But if it’s a matter of safety—” Dominic started.
“It’s a matter of independence,” I said firmly. “I’ve been running my family’s shop since I was twenty. It’s important to me.”
Dominic ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “There has to be a middle ground here. What about hiring additional staff? Security personnel?”
“Security personnel to watch me fix shoes?” I asked skeptically.
“People to help run the shop,” Blake clarified, apparently understanding Dominic’s thinking. “If you had assistants handling routine repairs, you’d have more flexibility for the commission. Less time spent alone in the shop.”
“And someone would be with Penny too,” Dominic added, his protective instincts clearly extending to our entire makeshift family. “Neither of you working alone.”
Penny looked thoughtful. “I could call my moms, see if they want to come help with the boutique until I find someone permanent. They’ve been asking when they can visit anyway.”
I considered this. “I suppose I could use help, especially with Victor’s deadline. But I’m not hiring armed guards to watch me work.”
“What about someone with just the relevant skills?” Blake suggested. “We’ll make sure they’re fully informed of everything. They could handle the basics, sells, and routine repairs while you focus on the complex work.”
“As long as someone’s always with both of you,” Dominic emphasized. “No working alone, especially not until we’ve got a better grip on this. We’ll find suitable assistants for the both of you, and then in a couple of weeks…”
Before anyone could respond further, frustration boiled over. “I’m going to get dressed and get to work,” I announced, pushing back from the counter. “The shop reopens today, with or without everyone’s approval.”
I headed toward the guest room, hearing Dominic’s footsteps following behind me. The bedroom door had barely closed before he was speaking.
“You can’t just—”
“Can’t what?” I turned to face him, anger finally spilling over. “Can’t run my own business? Can’t make decisions about my family’s shop?”
“Can’t put yourself in danger unnecessarily,” he said, his alpha instincts to protect and to dominate making his voice rougher.
I pulled the prescription bottle from my pocket, shoving it toward him. “Speaking of taking care of yourself, Blake says you need to take these three times a day. When’s the last time you took one?”
Dominic’s expression darkened. “He told you about that?”
“He told me you had a seizure,” I said, my anger mixing with worry. “He told me you could have another one if you don’t take the medication consistently. So when, Dominic?”
“I can take care of myself,” he said with the kind of arrogant dismissal that made my teeth clench. “I don’t need to be managed like a child.”
“It doesn’t feel good to be micromanaged, does it?” I shot back. “Having someone else make decisions about your health or safety without consulting you?”
The parallel hit home. Dominic’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Point taken.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right—about the shop, about the micromanaging, about… everything.”
He took the bottle from my hands, shook out one of the pills, and swallowed it dry without breaking eye contact with me.
“Thank you,” I said softly, my anger already beginning to fade.
I stepped closer, close enough to smell his familiar scent beneath the lingering stress and frustration. “I know you’re worried. I’m worried too. But we can’t live our lives in Blake’s guest room.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “I just… I can’t lose you. Not after—”
I cut him off by pressing my lips to his, tasting coffee and the bitter edge of medication. His arms came around me immediately, pulling me against his chest as if he could absorb me into his bones. The kiss deepened, mutual vexation and anxieties pouring out through touch and desperate connection.
I felt his breath hitch when I pressed closer, my tongue teasing the seam of his lips, begging for entry. He granted it, the kiss growing heated, hungry, until we were both breathing hard against each other’s mouths.
“We should…” Dominic started, but didn’t finish the thought.
“Yeah,” I agreed breathlessly, though neither of us moved to separate.
I stretched up on my toes, teeth grazing along the sharp line of his jaw. The height difference forced me to crane my neck, but I managed to find the sensitive spot where his pulse hammered beneath warm skin. A low rumble vibrated through his chest, the sound sending heat straight through me.
His fingers tangled in my hair, tilting my head back so he could claim my mouth again. We pressed against each other, every line of our bodies aligned despite the awkward angle, until breathing became secondary to this desperate need to touch, to reassure, to claim.
Finally, lungs burning, I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead against his collarbone. “The shop,” I said, trying to regain focus.
“The shop,” he agreed. “But we do this carefully. Security upgrades, additional staff, protocols.”
“Agreed,” I said. “Partners?”
“Partners,” he confirmed, and sealed it with another brief, soft kiss.
For now, I’d take this win. The housing argument could wait another day.
After all, home wasn’t really about the building anyway. Home was wherever Dominic and I were together.
Everything else was just details to be worked out.