30. Ariana
30
ARIANA
I roll onto my stomach and push my face into the pillow as I slowly wake up. I’ve slept so well. This bed is just perfect. After a languid stretch and a happy sigh, I let my limbs relax again.
Something’s missing. Warmth and safety and a certain intoxicating scent I want to nuzzle my nose in.
I blink in confusion, not sure where I even am anymore.
A slice of early morning light cuts through the curtains, and then there’s movement. Someone is getting up from a chair in the corner. I freeze and by instinct want to curl into myself. Safety amongst these people is just an illusion.
“Ariana, it’s just me. Relax.”
As my eyes adjust to the light, I take in the short, curvy woman with the crop of wild grey-streaked curls. Portia . She’s holding a stack of…laundry? I exhale in relief. She hasn’t fired warning shots at me yet. Phew .
“Dominic won’t be happy,” she says as she walks over to where I’m struggling up. “He said you need to sleep in.”
“What time is it?”
“Seven. Way too early for someone who needs to sleep in.” She purses her lips in a reprimanding line, but there’s a smile there, too. “Ah, that boy. When Dominic looks after a woman, he looks after a woman. Is that his T-shirt? I bet it’s his favorite. Wouldn’t let you sleep in my supermarket clothes without having washed them, hmm? Knew it. I would have stayed to do the laundry yesterday, but he was busy, and I didn’t want to be out of line, you know—” She breaks off. “Anyways. Slept well?”
“Hmm-hmm.” I’m a bit dazed. The ties Dominic had expertly fastened around my arm have loosened to such an extent that they’ve bundled at my wrist. I quietly tug at them, not wanting Portia to notice, but by the glint in her eye, I’m not hiding anything from her soon.
“Not to worry. I got a guard to do the laundry and dry it, too, so now it’s all folded and ready for you.” She puts the stack of clothes on the bed.
“Thank you.” Right on top is a blush pink satin robe. What was she thinking when she got me that ?
“You want to try fall asleep again?”
“No.” I won’t, not now she’s chatted me awake. There’s no sign of Dominic, which is totally for the better.
“Come then, you look like you need some coffee. A proper one. Not the stuff they sell at shops here. I make the best cappuccino this side of the Atlantic.”
This makes me smile. Of course she does. I push the ties to the side and get up, and as I do, Dominic’s pajama shorts slip, and I have to catch them. “Oops.”
“Why not put on your own? It’s right on top.”
“Maybe a shower first?”
“No, you’re not going anywhere this early.”
With a shrug, I go through the first few layers and find the matching pink summer sleep set. “May I?”
I’m under no illusions here. Portia didn’t come all this way to make small talk with me and take care of laundry. I bet she’s got a gun shoved into the back of her jeans or something.
“Sure, go ahead.”
I go to the bathroom where I change, feel whether the bandage over my bullet wound still holds, wash my face and brush my teeth, and manage my bedhead into a messy bun. Not dressing up. Not dressing up at all.
“Is Dominic around?” I ask, walking back into the bedroom.
Portia has opened the curtains, and through the windows, there’s the beautiful view over the manicured gardens. She’s busy collecting the ties on the bed, muttering, “Ruined, all ruined.”
“He’s probably in the gym,” she says as she puts the silky pile on the chair.
I step in and help her make the bed. He’s in the gym, not at the gym, which means he’s still here, in the home gym. So much money on display. I’m not used to it at all.
When we’re done, she opens the bedroom door and leads the way to the kitchen.
I don’t miss the guard who sits two doors down. He stands as we walk past. Portia only nods at him in acknowledgement. All the doors are still closed, but it doesn’t feel so strange anymore. I’m building a map in my head of the house for future reference. For now, I’ll let this tide sweep me into whichever direction it chooses to take, observing, adapting.
It’s quiet as Portia makes the cappuccino. She’s relaxed; I’m slowly tensing up again. There seems to be more eyes around than last night. Maybe I was so out of it I didn’t notice, but this Code Red calls for a lot of security. I’m out of my depth, but to be honest, I’ve been from the start.
“Here.” She pushes the coffee in my direction. “Drink up, and we’ll go find Dominic. I need instructions from him. By the sounds of it, we’re going to still tear the house down today.”
“Okay.” I cautiously take a first sip, but it’s the perfect temperature and delicious, like a sip of home. Emotion overwhelms me, because here I am, having another thing I thought I’d never have again.
It’s a quick coffee, and when I’m done, we make our way through the house to the other side and the additions I saw when we drove into the property. We walk through the home gym which is so well-equipped, it looks like something from a luxury private sports club, but Dominic isn’t there.
“He must be swimming,” Portia says as she pushes open a sliding door between the gym and what looks like a twenty-five-meter-long pool, enclosed in a conservatory-style glass house. It’s magnificent, with a high ceiling with exposed rafters and glass doors designed to open up to the outside world in summer and keep in the heat in winter. The pool is at least four lanes wide, and in one of them, Dominic is swimming in the opposite direction.
“And Bruno is here, too,” she says. “You’ve met the brute?”
“Yes,” I say with a small smile. “We’re good.”
“Since he’s still busy, I’m going to prepare breakfast.” She lets the statement hang.
I can either wait here for Dominic or go crack some eggs and help in the kitchen.
“I want to dip my feet in the water,” I say, feeling a bit like a girl again. It’s not often—no, it’s actually never that I get to experience life at this level of luxury.
“That’s fine.” Her gaze jumps to a guard who is standing just outside with an automatic rifle, and when she squeezes my hand in warning, there’s no need to verbalize the message.
Don’t try pull off any shit, sweetheart.
I watch for a second as she walks away, Bruno now following in her wake, clearly knowing who is going to feed him. I spot another guard who has positioned himself right at the sliding door between the gym and the swimming pool. Code Red. Dominic said this isn’t all for me, but goodness, it’s a lot.
With a shrug, I pad over to the pool where I sit down on the edge and lower my feet into the water. It’s fresh but not cold, and now I want to strip and get into the pool with Dominic. I don’t have a swimsuit, and I’m in my new pajamas with no underwear. There isn’t a chance in hell I’m getting naked with him.
On the far side, he does that underwater turning thing and freestyles it back in my direction, totally oblivious I’m even here. I’m sitting by the corner of the pool, on the side of his lane, giving him space. He’s wearing swimming goggles, and with graceful strokes, glides through the water at speed.
He’s clearly an excellent swimmer, and I can see why, what with those shoulder and back muscles. He is so efficient with the movements, it’s almost soundless. Each time an arm comes up and pierces back into the water, muscles strained and bulging, his skin shimmers as water sluices off, making magic with the tattoos on his arms. I’d love to have a closer look at them, but so far, he’s hardly given me a chance.
As he comes closer to where my legs are hanging in the water, my pulse skips several beats, and the urge to tuck my feet away bubbles up. Soon, he’s going to be right here, and I bet by now he’s seen me. He slows down as he nears the edge, and before I can pull out, he’s brushed my foot with a warm hand, giving me a squeeze as he rises out of the water.
I suck my lip as he stands, the water running off to his waist, where he’s still covered in the shallow end of the pool.
“Hey,” he says as he pulls off his goggles, chest heaving. “You’re supposed to be sleeping in.”
When Dominic looks after a woman, he looks after a woman. God, he is sweet. And he did take care of me last night, in a way I never thought possible for a man. There’s a reason I slept so well. He was there.
As he rakes his hair from his brow and wipes the water off his face, I take in every inch I can. He’s right here, so close and naked from the waist up. His body is majestic, toned, strong, years of weightlifting defining every muscle individually. The morning sun beams down through the glass ceiling, and the water droplets on his skin almost magnify his body. With his arms raised in motion and his side facing me, I get to see his smoother inner arms, tattooed lats, his side, the shape of his obliques as they trail down into that V no woman can resist.
I double-take. And double-take again, sure the water is messing with my head. But then, my mind flashes back to how he dimmed the lights, how he turned just so when he changed his shirt yesterday. How he was overly conscious of his body, even though he has nothing to hide.
Except he does. It hits me, and blood seems to seep from me in shock, cold fingers of horror scratching down my spine. Experience .
He’s been too focused on his exercise, maybe too taken off-guard to find me here, he didn’t think of hiding his scars from me.
I bite back tears, resisting the urge to reach out for him in a soft touch I’ve only learned about yesterday. A touch he taught me without being aware he did. This man?—
“Dominic?” I drag in a ragged breath, but there’s no way I have control over my voice now. “Who did this to you?”