Chapter 24 Dominic
DOMINIC
Mia wore this dress to torture me, and I cannot be convinced otherwise.
It’s a long, red strapless gown, with a split that runs all the way up her thigh.
The tattoos on her arms almost look like lace, and all I can think of is kissing every single one when we get back to the room.
She wears her hair in soft curls hanging down her back, and gold earrings dangle from her ears.
In sky-high heels, her legs appear impossibly long.
“You look incredible,” I tell her as I help her into a black coat.
“Why thank you.” She looks me up and down as she collects her clutch from the side table. “You look rather nice yourself.”
I pull her to me, one last kiss before I have to be demure and well-behaved for a few hours. “You know my favourite thing though?”
She smiles, shaking her head.
I lower my mouth to her ear. “Knowing you’re going to be around all those people with my cum inside you.”
Mia gasps out a laugh. “Get you with the dirty talk now, you absolute scoundrel!”
I smile and devour her one more time, and I think my lust for this woman is going to give me a heart attack. But the car is here to whisk us away to her launch, and my own feelings take a back seat. This night is about her.
The launch is held in a swanky Paris boutique, the ceiling hung with ornate chandeliers which cast a warm light over the room. Once we fight our way past the blinding lights of the paparazzi, Mia is instantly surrounded by a flurry of people, including her PA, who whisk her away from me.
She casts a quick glance over her shoulder at me, almost asking for permission, and all I can do is smile. She smiles back at me, wide and brilliant, and my heart is so full of pride I could burst.
“She’s brilliant, isn’t she?” A heavily accented voice says suddenly beside me, and I look down at the petite woman who has appeared at my side.
She has short dark hair cut into a stylish pixie cut, and big, brown eyes.
She’s immaculately dressed in white trousers and a red blouse that wouldn’t dare to crease on its owner.
The woman presents me with a delicate, manicured hand.
“Giselle Durand. I believe we’ve met before. ”
“Dominic Graves.” I take her hand and look at her closely. “Yes, I believe we have.”
Her red lips twitch into a smile. “The Hermes campaign in ’97. We were both a little younger back then.”
“My goodness, yes. It’s wonderful to see you again.”
“You, as well.” She stops a waiter as he sweeps past us, and retrieves two glasses of champagne from the silver tray, handing me one. “To your brilliant girl.”
I laugh awkwardly, and clink my glass to hers. “Oh, she’s not my-”
“Brilliant, just brilliant.” Giselle gazes across the room at Mia.
“You know, the first time I see this girl was in a Calvin Klein campaign in 2017. And I remember people talking about the tattoos and the nose ring, saying that a model should not look this way. No one could understand why the French designers all wanted her.” Giselle shakes her head and snorts.
“Ridiculous. Everyone thinks the French admire only the natural, but no. We just want what is real. And this one?” She smiles indulgently, almost like a proud mother.
“She is real. Kind, and smart. And beautiful of course.”
“Yes, she’s extraordinary.”
Giselle gives me a displeased side glance. “It is a shame your son could not see it.”
I force myself to swallow my champagne down past the lump of shame in my throat. “Yes, it is unfortunate.”
“How do you say in football?” Giselle snaps her fingers. “A fumble?”
“Yes, a fumble,” I reply with a laugh. “Losing Mia is certainly a fumble, an egregious one at that.”
Giselle scoffs. “It just shows again that men never realise what they have, and they are never truly happy.” She balls her hand into a fist and shakes it in front of her.
“A woman like her, she needs a real man beside her, one who values her career and her mind. Not one who sits simpering in the corner complaining the spotlight is not on him.”
I suddenly understand Mia’s questioning look as she was dragged away to be admired.
Archie had never been supportive of it. My mind wanders back to a time at my house, it must have been Christmas, when Cynthia and I were having blazing rows and Mia and Archie had hidden away in the lounge room to avoid them.
In between my self-involvement, Archie had come to me and complained about Mia’s career.
How she was always away for shoots. How she was practically naked in front of these photographers.
How she was always working, lining up deals and collaborations.
He’d loved the idea of marrying an It Girl, or whatever we called them now, but he hated how much of her life took place in the public eye.
And he hated how much people loved her.
In my self-absorbed absentmindedness, I had uttered something about being patient with her and understanding that she wanted to have a life of her own outside of being a WAG. What I should have done is given him a good talking-to about being a team with your partner.
“You seem enraptured.” Giselle’s voice brings me back into the room, and I realise I’ve been staring at Mia.
I laugh awkwardly. “She’s an enrapturing woman. I’m very lucky to have her in my life.”
“She is lucky to have a man such as yourself around. Good men are hard to find, and a father-in-law who is this supportive, I’d almost say you are a diamond in the rough, Dominic.”
Hardly. I wonder what Giselle would say if she knew I’d been shagging Mia blind for the better part of the week.
And that deep, unpleasant pit opens up in my stomach again, where all the shame of what I’m doing with this very young woman swirls and boils.
Whatever happens, I’ll never regret it. She’s too wonderful for that.
But I do worry that the fallout of what we’ve done will make her regret it one day.
But then Mia sashays across the room towards me, her face so bright, glowing with happiness, and the negative thoughts die. Whatever will come, will come. For now I’m here, in Paris, and she’s smiling at me like I’m the only person in the room.
“You’re radiant, my darling,” Giselle says, descending on Mia and pressing a kiss to both her cheeks. “Positively radiant.”
“Thank you so much.” Mia smiles up at me. “I hope Giselle has been keeping you company while I’ve been busy.”
“We know each other,” Giselle interjects. “From, oh, long ago. We worked on a campaign together.” She gives me a coy grin. “He was the footballer back then, so handsome, all the women loved him.”
“I think he’s still pretty handsome.” Mia gives me a wicked smile, and heat shoots into my face.
Giselle regards me critically and gives a sharp nod. “Yes, he has held on to his looks luckily. And some women, they like this, what do you call it? The silver fox?”
Mia giggles into her champagne. “Yes, the silver fox. Very attractive. You might want to watch yourself, Giselle. Dominic might be on the lookout for his next wife.”
Fucking cheeky thing. I shake my head, unable to suppress a smile. Giselle waves the joke away with her elegant hand, kisses Mia again and excuses herself.
“We will do lunch next time you are here,” she says to Mia, before disappearing amongst the other attendees.
The wicked smile is back, and I have to remind myself we’re very much in public and I cannot touch her now.
“Having fun?” She asks, raising her glass to her lips.
“I am, rather. And you?”
“Yes, I am.” She looks around the room with a sigh. “Feels so weird, still. To have all these people here for me.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
Her eyes flash back to mine, a hesitant smile ghosting over her lips. “For what? Launching a perfume?”
“Don’t do that.” I reach out and run the back of my finger along her forearm, the only touch I’ll allow myself and hopefully benign enough not to arouse any gossip.
“You’re allowed to be proud of yourself.
You don’t need to be modest or downplay your achievements.
You’re a businesswoman and you’re clearly great at doing business. ”
“I suppose.” Her eyes drop from mine, and she shrugs. “Never really had anyone say they were proud of me.”
“Well, I am.”
Mia keeps her head ducked, and I panic for a moment that I’ve made her cry, that I’ve ruined her evening by being too over-emotional and bringing up things that are painful for her.
But when she looks back up at me, she’s smiling, her face glowing again.
“Thank you.” She leans up and plants a quick peck on my cheek. “Thank you for being here.”
The rest of the evening passes pleasantly, and by the time midnight rolls around and it’s time to leave, Mia has people begging her to come clubbing with them.
She kindly refuses, explaining that we have to travel back the next day.
She’s showered with kisses and hugs and promises of catching up next time she’s in Paris, and we leave with our arms full of flowers and gift bags.
She scoops up a bottle of champagne before we go, and gives me another one of her sweet, wicked grins.
“I have plans,” she murmurs.
In the car, she spritzes herself with her perfume, and it’s intoxicating. It smells exactly like she does, jasmine and orange blossom, warm and summery. I want to bury my face against her skin and breathe it all in, but I have to restrain myself all the way to the hotel and into her suite.
Once the door closes and we’re alone, Mia grips the bottle of champagne and gestures to the chaise.
“Make yourself comfortable, Mr Graves. Without clothes, please.”
She watches me hungrily as I strip off my shoes, suit and shirt, then stretch out on the chaise.
“Your turn now?”
“Mmmm, maybe.” She places the champagne bottle on the table and unzips her dress, letting it fall to the floor. She stands before me in nothing but black, lacy panties, and I doubt I can just lie here while she’s looking like that.