Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The day of the party, Nic stood in front of the open suitcase that served as his closet, pawing through his clothes. Should he wear a suit? No, that was too dressy, and he only had flashy “Dominic Crane” suits. But a T-shirt seemed wrong, too.
He decided on items that made him feel most like himself—his usual jeans and a soft gray button-down that he left untucked.
He’d told Maureen about the party, and she’d taken him to a florist shop to pick out a birthday arrangement of flowers. He really wanted to give it to Sylvie, but Maureen had said that would be rude, and that being nice to Sylvie’s friend would buy him more points, anyway. Which he knew, of course.
But he felt like a middle schooler going to his first coed dance. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing. All the rules he’d learned as a kid about “polite” behavior were taught to him by people who stole and cheated and broke bones for a living. So he couldn’t help doubting his instincts.
And he was going to Sylvie’s house. Even with all they’d been through together, all the moments they’d shared, it had always been in places defined by his old life. Today they were meeting on ground that belonged to Sylvie and her friends.
He wanted to belong there, too.
He drove to West Oaks for the first time in months, memories assailing him the entire way—some uncomfortable, but so many good.
Dominic knocked on Sylvie’s front door, shifting the flowers from one hand to the other. He could hear voices inside. The door swung open, and a man with shoulder-length hair and an easy grin stood on the threshold. His eyes made a quick sweep over Dominic from head to toe.
“You must be Nic.” He held out his hand. “I’m Luis. It’s great to finally meet you.”
“You, too.” He remembered that Luis was the boyfriend of Sylvie’s cousin.
“The party’s upstairs at Ethan’s place.”
Dominic glanced around the first floor as they passed through. The walls were painted in shades of blue and green, hung with framed vinyl album covers. The furniture was plush and undersized to fit into the small space.
Before they reached the staircase, Luis spun around. “You know, you look familiar.”
He froze. Had the guy seen pictures of him online in articles about the Syndicate? Dominic cared less about his former associates finding him and more about Sylvie’s friends thinking he wasn’t good enough for her.
“Have you modeled?”
Dominic shook his head, knowing he must have the same expression as a deer facing an oncoming train.
“Have you thought about it? You have a very distinctive look.”
“Um…” Say something, he thought. Why is this so hard?
Before, he’d never lacked for conversation at a party.
But he’d been playing a role for his so-called friends.
Now that he was just trying to be himself, he was struggling to find the right words.
Shouldn’t it have been the other way around?
It was like he’d reverted back to some earlier stage of awkwardness.
So much for the guy who’d made Sylvie whimper with desire in his entryway the first day he met her.
“Okay, now that I’ve come across as the stereotypical creepy photographer, we should probably…” Luis pointed at the stairs. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
He found his voice. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve heard that before, about modeling. It’s not for me, but thanks.” Even setting aside his efforts to separate himself from his old life and name, he didn’t want people staring at him. “What kind of photography do you do?”
Luis launched into a discussion about his latest campaign for a popular clothing website. The tension in Dominic’s shoulders started to ease. He could do this—relate to people. Make new friends. Right? He wasn’t completely hopeless.
He’d better not be, if he wanted to get Sylvie back.
They reached the top of the stairs, and he saw her. Sylvie wore a lacy, sleeveless black dress and her combat boots. Dominic’s heart instantly jumped into high gear.
She looked over at him and smiled. “Nic.”
“Hey.”
Sylvie walked over, her arms flaring like she wanted to hug him. But he was holding the flowers. “Those must be for Faith? That’s so thoughtful.” She called her friend over.
There weren’t many people there, but he seemed to get caught talking to everyone else except Sylvie. Their eyes trailed each other around the room.
He learned that Ethan was a web designer who was into kung fu movies. Faith was in the process of getting divorced, even though she looked too young and innocent to even be married. But people’s outsides didn’t always match their insides. Dominic knew that well enough.
Luis was talking about his last roommate, an actress who’d brought home “dates” at all hours of the night. “She was running a red-light district out of my apartment. Why can’t I find anyone sane to rent my spare room?”
“Maybe the problem is you?” Ethan said. “There’s a reason I can’t live with you. Aside from the fact that you insist on living near the 405.”
“I like things clean, dishes put away, and no illegal activities. That’s so demanding?”
Dominic wondered how much Luis was charging for rent. The photographer’s apartment sounded much nicer than Dominic’s studio, assuming the man didn’t run a background check. Or maybe he’d be okay with ex-mobsters, as long as they were tidy.
Finally, the others were all otherwise occupied. Dominic’s gaze met Sylvie’s across the room. Sylvie set down her drink, rushed over to grab his hand, and pulled him downstairs.
He’d been hoping to see her bedroom, but she stopped in the living area. “Hi,” she said, looking down like she was nervous. “Are you having fun?”
“Yeah. Your friends are great.” But I’m here for you. She had to know that.
“Now you’ve met all my people. You already knew the Bennett Security contingent, and this is the rest of them. Pretty much.”
“You’ve definitely met mine—all two of them, Raymond and Maureen. There’s Warren, but he’s not out for another year or two.”
Sylvie twisted her hands together. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say.
I loved that text you sent, the first one after we’d been apart?
I took so long to write back because I didn’t know anything that good to say.
But you’ve made me see the world differently, too. You matter so much to me.”
Dominic couldn’t describe the feeling in his chest. It was like riding a roller coaster as it zoomed into a loop. He pulled her closer. She brushed her thumb down his cheek.
“You have a scar.”
“My poor face.”
“Yep, you’re ugly now.” She smiled, and her blue eyes danced. So beautiful. His heart almost couldn’t take it.
His hands moved to her hips, enjoying the scratch of the lace against his palms, then traveled to the notches of her waist. Over four months—nearly five now—was a really long time.
God, he wanted her.
He brushed his nose against her temple, just above the frames of her glasses. She smelled like vanilla and roses. He wondered if it was perfume. His eyes closed as he breathed her in. “Since we last saw each other, I’ve only thought of you. I haven’t been with anyone else.”
“Neither have I,” she whispered. “But I made myself come. Twice. I was thinking about you.”
His head rushed with desire. He’d jerked off every day, but not to porn. Only to her.
Dominic brought his lips to her forehead, her cheek, moving toward her mouth. But before their lips could touch, she pulled back slightly.
“I need to take things slow. I don’t want to. But I need to.”
“Okay. That’s fine.” His dick was protesting that it really wasn’t fine. But that would just have to wait. He rested his forehead against hers. “I can go slow. Any particular reason?”
“You said you’re working on things about yourself.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t want to admit just how uncertain he still felt about the future.
“So am I. There are things I need to do before I can be with anyone. I’m still holding onto so much anger at my family. I want to let go of that. But I don’t know how.”
“If anybody can figure it out, it’s you.” He held her against his chest.
“But I do want to be with you. You have no idea how difficult it is not to drag you into my bedroom right now.”
“I can guess.” Five. Freaking. Months.
“But I don’t want to mess this up. It’s not just sex.”
“No. Not at all.”
“So we’ll be patient a little longer.”
“Yes?” His voice went high at the end, making it a question.
“Yes.” She kissed his jaw. “But I’m imagining all the things I want to do to you later.”
He made a small, needy noise that sounded distinctly like a whimper.
Ethan called from upstairs. “Everyone, cake!”