9. Chapter 9 #2
The bartender slides me a new drink as a man appears beside me—the one who’s been eyeing me all night. Tall-ish, light hair, an easy smile. He has that predatory confidence men get when they’ve been drinking and think they’re charming.
“Back for another?” he asks.
“Yeah. Long day.” I nod without looking at him.
“Oh, I believe that.” His eyes flick lazily down my body and back up. “You look like you needed a night out.”
I lift an eyebrow and suck on the straw.
“In a good way,” he leers. “A very good way. ”
I take another slow sip; he leans closer, elbow on the bar.
“So who’d you come with?”
“My friends,” I reply, nodding toward the girls.
“What’s your name?”
“Jessica.”
“Jessica.” He repeats it like he’s tasting it. “It suits you. Pretty name. Pretty girl.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes, yet I don’t shut him down.
“So… you dressed up for someone?”
“No,” I say. “Just for fun.”
“Fun, huh?” He chuckles, suggestive. “You found it.”
Instead of answering, I take another sip. Why can’t someone knock the breath out of me the way Dominic can?
“So what do you do, Jessica?” he says, eyes on my drink and probably imagining my mouth doing other things. “Besides making men stare at you all night.”
This time I roll my eyes. “I sew.”
“Sew? Like clothes?” He raises a brow.
“Yeah. ”
“What kind of clothes?”
“This kind.” I laugh tightly.
“Damn. You made that?” He whistles, gaze lingering. “You should design lingerie. You’d kill a man in red satin.”
“Noted.” I force a small smile.
He edges closer, invading my space. “You here with anyone who’d get jealous if I bought you a drink?” he asks, voice lowering as if the question itself should seduce me.
Jealous? The memory of Dom’s texts flashes through my mind, but the image of that woman leaving his house burns hotter.
“No.” I smile at him.
“Good.”
The guy inches even closer. His hand brushes my waist and I stiffen. Wrong-kind goosebumps spike across my skin. I want to shove him away. But I’m hurt, drunk, and angry, and being wanted feels like a relief, even if it’s a terrible one. So I stay still.
“I’d treat you right all night. However you—”
His voice cuts off. His eyes freeze on something behind me. His face drains; the easy smile disappears .
He huffs out a nervous laugh. “You said you don’t have a boyfriend, right?”
“That’s right.” I frown.
He glances up again. “Then who the hell is that?”
I turn fully and see a broad chest first and a black shirt stretched over it. My heart drops as I lift my chin and meet dark eyes beneath even darker eyebrows.
“Oh, fuck,” I whisper, already thinking about an escape plan.
Dominic looms above me, eyes locked not on the man but on me. I feel every ounce of anger pouring out of him, quietly lethal.
My heart stops; my legs press together at the sight of him. He’s even more handsome when I’m drunk.
His eyes flick from the man to my dress to the drink in my hand, then up to my face. The look he gives me is pure, unfiltered: You’re in trouble.
My mouth goes dry. Heat rushes down my spine so hard I almost sway.
The guy beside me shifts, stepping away like he’s trying to detach.
Dom’s voice cuts through the music. “Move. ”
His eyes are fixed on the man. The club keeps moving, music blaring and lights flashing, but everything feels quiet, like Dominic’s presence has sucked the oxygen from the room.
“Hey man, she… she said she didn’t have a boyfriend. I didn’t know. I wasn’t, I mean, she told me—”
“Did she now?” Dom tilts his head. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You walk away… or you don’t like what comes next.”
The guy sputters something and disappears into the crowd.
Dom watches him go, then turns back to me, eyes blazing.
“Let’s go,” he says.
My drunk brain registers rage, heartbreak, and the audacity of him ordering me around after I saw that woman this morning.
“No,” I snap.
“Jessica, start walking.”
“No, you start walking,” I throw back. “Go home and stop ruining my night.”
Something dark flashes in his eyes and he steps closer.
“Ruining your night? Or your plans to flirt with men?” His voice slides over me like liquid fire. “I can’t express how mad I am right now, so I’m gonna need you to start. Fucking. Walking.”
“I said go home, Captain.” I tip my chin up.
“You’re wasted,” he growls.
“Yup,” I shoot back, swaying slightly. “And I don’t want you in here.”
Another flicker of anger passes over his face. I shove past him toward the dance floor.
He moves fast. One second I’m stepping forward, the next his hand clamps around my waist.
He drags me back into him, and his breath hits my ear, hot and furious.
“You wanna dance?” His voice is a snarl.
He spins me to face him; his chest slams against mine. His grip on my waist is unforgiving, and it hits me low in my stomach. Straight between my legs.
“I didn’t say with you,” I hiss.
His lips brush my ear. “You’re done here.”
“No. I’m not,” I bite back and push at his chest .
His grip tightens, and suddenly the world tilts. Dom’s arms scoop under my thighs—one hand under my legs, the other braced on my lower back—and he lifts me clean off the floor.
I gasp and grab his shoulders, shocked at the rush of air, the club spinning below. His subtle cologne wraps around me, clean and masculine. I look up at his thick neck and sharp jawline, feeling a drunken urge to bite him.
“What the hell are you doing?” I try to wiggle free.
His grip adjusts instantly, protective and instinctive, angling me so my dress doesn’t ride up, hiding me from the club’s clientele.
“Wiggle again,” he snaps, “and I’ll throw you over my shoulder instead.”
My heart lurches. Heat floods my cheeks as he carries me through a parted sea of stunned strangers recording us.
His arms flex with every step toward the VIP lounge.
Melody spots us, eyes narrowing with amusement.
“What the hell, Dom?” she shouts over the music as we approach .
Dom shifts me slightly, lowering me to kiss Melody on the head. “Do you need anything?” he asks, acting like he’s not carrying a girl like a hostage.
“Uh, I’m okay.” She glances at me.
I plant one hand on my hip, the other still around his neck, shooting him a look that should translate to put me down.
Dominic ignores me and turns to the WAGs. A few bite back amused smiles as he straightens.
“Ladies.” He nods. “Enjoying your night?”
Before Melody or anyone can protest, Dom turns away and starts walking toward the exit. He shields me from every bumping body with a possessive sweep of his shoulders.
The exit doors burst open; warm night air hits my face. He lets go of my back to open the door to his G-Wagon and guides me inside.
“I don’t want to go home,” I shriek as my ass hits the seat.
He leans over me, his size and scent drowning rational thought. He grabs the seatbelt, pulls it across my body, and clicks it with a sharp snap. Then he braces one hand on the car frame, lowering his face until it hovers an inch from mine.
“Fun’s over.”
He’s so close the rest of the world stops existing. His eyes flick slowly to my mouth before he pushes away and slams the door shut.
The moment the car stops, I don’t wait. I throw the door open and stumble out. My head is buzzing from alcohol and adrenaline, and I don’t look back once as I storm toward the house, keys already in my hand.
I hear his car door slam behind me, then his heavy steps following.
I fumble with the lock before I shove it open and storm inside.
I try to slam it behind me, but his hand catches the edge. He steps in, forcing it wide—then shuts it hard enough to rattle the frame.
“Stop.” His voice is deceptively calm.
I whirl around, breathless. “What?! ”
“You ignored me.” His voice is calm as he steps toward me.
“That’s why you humiliated me in front of everyone?” I laugh sharply.
“Humiliated you?” he echoes. “I called you fourteen times.”
“Oh, poor you,” I mock.
I thought his face couldn’t get any more intimidating. I was wrong. The look he’s giving me right now would make sober me crumble. But the alcohol running in my veins makes me reckless.
“Why,” he asks slowly, voice dropping, “did that fucker think you’re single?”
“Because I told him I was,” I say with a shrug.
His brows furrow, confusion sharpening with every second. He really doesn’t get why all this is happening.
“Why the fuck did you tell him you’re single?” He spells it out for me, slowly. “Are you so wasted that you didn’t even stop to think how it looked? What people heard. How fast that shit spreads. What they’ll post tomorrow morning.”
“This isn’t about the media! ”
“Then tell me what it’s about,” he says. “Because I’m dying to fucking know.”
“This is about you!” I scream and shove at his chest.
Annoyingly, he doesn’t budge an inch.
“We made a deal,” I shout, “and then you had a woman in your house this morning? Is this what being tied to you looks like? Being made a fool of?” I shove him again.
“What?”
“I saw her.”
He studies me for a beat, realization flickering in his dark gaze. His eyes close as he draws in a slow breath—then open again, narrowed.
“And you didn’t bother asking me who she is?”
His question takes me off guard.
Because I actually didn’t.
But the way she looked at him… I didn’t need to ask when her eyes told me everything I needed to know.
He takes another deep breath, then raises his head and looks straight at me.
“Instead of asking me,” he says, “you assumed you knew what you saw.”
“I doesn’t take a genius,” I counter .
“Instead of asking me,” he goes on, “you ran. And instead of talking to me, you got drunk and entertained a man flirting with you.”
“Did that hurt your little ego, Captain? That I chose to talk to another man over you?”
I hear what he’s saying. I understand what he’s telling me. But the hurt is too much, blurring every rational thought.
Dominic starts shaking his head, visibly disappointed in my answer.
“I didn’t touch her,” he says evenly. “That’s not what she was here for.”
“That’s not what it looked like!”