12. Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
~DOMINIC~
She’s been gone too long. The table has moved through three different conversations already, and Jessica’s still not back. Melody keeps giving me looks like I’m supposed to go check on her.
I don’t check on people. I don’t leave tables for anyone. But my knee has been bouncing under the table for the past five minutes, and every time someone moves behind me, I catch myself turning to see if it’s her.
It never is.
Fuck this.
I push back from the table, and the guys glance up. “Bathroom,” I mutter as I stand .
I head down the hallway toward the restrooms, jaw and shoulders tight. I’m not worried. I just… don’t like not knowing where she is.
Jessica steps out of the bathroom at the far end of the hall. One look and every muscle in my body tenses.
Her eyes are sharp and blazing, her jaw set, shoulders squared. She’s upset.
I move toward her before I register taking a step. “What happened?” My voice is low when I reach her. “You were gone a while.”
She doesn’t even slow. “Didn’t realize I was on a timer,” she snaps.
I stop in front of her, blocking her path. “You’re not.” My brows furrow.
“Don’t follow me around then.” She lifts her chin, eyes flashing.
I don’t know what this is. What caused it. Why she’s spitting fire at me instead of telling me what’s wrong. Because I don’t know how to react to this version of her—closed off, furious, untouchable—I react badly.
“Then stop disappearing like a toddler in a grocery store,” I bite out .
Her eyes widen, then narrow. She takes a single step into my space, craning her neck to look up at me. “Then why don’t you put me in a cart, daddy?” The words are pure venom, but they still make blood rush to my cock instantly.
Heat punches straight to my gut. I fight the urge to pin her against the nearest wall and show her what talking to me like that does.
I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath when the bathroom door opens again and Valencia steps out.
She smooths her hair, her eyes flicking sharply between Jessica and me.
Suddenly the entire hallway shifts. Jessica stiffens beside me; the fury in her eyes morphs into something else. Her face says it all.
Something happened in there.
Valencia forces a smile, gives us a single lingering glance, and walks past.
Jessica doesn’t look at her once.
“What,” I say slowly, “did she say to you?”
Jessica doesn’t answer.
“What did she say to you?” I ask again, sharper this time.
“Nothing. ”
“Don’t do that,” I bite out, jaw clenched.
“Do what?” she throws back, eyes flashing. “I’m not obliged to give you a play-by-play every time I go somewhere.”
I step closer, crowding her. “I’m not asking for a play-by-play,” I grit out. “I’m asking why you’re upset.”
She lifts her chin higher in defiance. “And why,” she shoots back, “is that any of your business?”
Because I want to fix it.
Annoyance and confusion war inside me. “Because you’re with me.”
“Right,” she says, rolling her eyes. “With you.”
She’s in pain and pushing. She wants distance, and I don’t know how to soothe.
Before I can come up with a way to get to her, she pushes past me, her shoulder brushing my arm, walking down the hall toward the main room with her chin lifted and her spine rigid with fury.
She just shut me out completely.
I watch her disappear into the crowd, slipping into her seat beside Melody with a bright smile as if nothing happened.
Slowly, mechanically, I turn my head toward the opposite end of the room.
To Valencia. Her eyes flick up, curious and hopeful.
My vision goes cold. I move before I fully register the decision.
She stands a little straighter as I approach.
Good. She should be nervous.
I tilt my head to one of the balcony exits, and her eyes light up instantly, hungry and delusional. I walk outside and she follows a few seconds later, her perfume clogging the air around us.
I stop in a quiet corner of the balcony, out of sight from the tables, far enough that Jessica won’t see, and start making shit up again. Valencia’s seductive smile grows. She clearly thinks I’m about to make an advance.
Her smile falters when she sees my face. I step in close enough that she has to tilt her chin up to meet my eyes.
“Dominic,” she says lightly, “is everything alright?”
“What,” I say quietly, “did you say to her?”
“We just had a little girl chat, that’s all.” She tilts her head. “She didn’t know you and I used to… you know. She might’ve gotten a bit upset. ”
Pure anger spikes in my chest. “Are you out of your mind?” I ask flatly.
“I didn’t say anything inappropriate,” she says, feigning confusion. “I simply answered her questions. She clearly didn’t know about us, so—”
“Us?” I cut in, voice still calm. “What us, Valencia?”
“Well, we have history. And maybe that unsettled her a little. It’s not my fault if she feels insecure over it. And if she does, that just proves my point that she’s not built for someone like you.” She shakes her head with fake concern.
Under other circumstances I’d walk away, end it, not entertain this any farther. But Jessica is still upset and Valencia still thinks she did something. “Your presence smothers, Dominic,” she purrs, stepping closer. “You take up all the space in a room. Women don’t always know how to handle you.”
She lifts her hand toward my chest. It’s an old move, a practiced invitation.
I take a single step back.
Her hand freezes in midair. She’d do anything for another taste of a past I don’t even think about. I used that when I invited her to my house. I used her desperation to get the contact information for the director hosting the fashion event I know she’s working on.
Yeah, low and unfair. But Jessica deserves a chance to have her talent shown on that runway, and I’ve already spoken to the director. Now I just need to find a way to show him her designs without spoiling the surprise.
“Dominic, come on.” She moves closer again. “You invited me over. And you clearly didn’t tell Jessica about us.”
“I did invite you over,” I agree. “Because you’ll do anything I ask without question, and I needed something.”
Color drains from her cheeks.
“I needed a phone number,” I say with a shrug. “And you gave it to me.”
Her brows pinch in pain and her chest expands with a sharp inhale.
“And as for me not telling Jessica,” I take another step back, “it clearly wasn’t memorable enough for me to mention. ”
Her breath stutters and she opens her mouth to speak. “If you ever speak to her again, you and I will have a very different conversation.”
“Dominic,”
“My girl is waiting for me. Enjoy your evening.”
Jessica doesn’t say a word to me the entire evening or on the drive home.
Not once. She sits pressed against the car door, staring out the window, arms crossed like she’s barricading her own chest. At the table, she laughed with everyone else.
But to me? Nothing. I might as well have been an empty chair beside her.
Every time I looked at her, she look somewhere else.
Every time I shift, she leaned subtly in the opposite direction.
I’ve dealt with colder.
But her freezing me out sits like a cement block in my chest. By the time we walk through the front door of my house, something is rattling in my ribs.
She heads straight for the stairs.
“Jessica.”
I take two long strides and catch her arm, making her halt in the living room .
She turns, eyes sharp but wounded under all that attitude.
“What?” she snaps.
My chest tightens at the tone. “Can we talk now?”
“I have nothing to say to you,” she mutters, yanking her arm back, and starts walking away.
“The fuck you don’t,”
“Don’t talk to me like that.” She whips her head around, looking ready to bite.
“Then talk to me,” I fire back. “You’ve ignored me the entire night. Again.”
“You didn’t seem lonely,” she says. “You had company after I returned to the table.”
Shit. She saw me talk to Valencia on the balcony.
“Yes, I told her to—”
“I don’t care what you two talked about,” she cuts me off. “Do you still fuck her?” Her voice breaks on the word. “Or any of the other women who throw themselves at you because apparently they’ve all heard stories. And Valencia sure has some of her own.”
Does she think she doesn’t measure up to women like Valencia ?
“So that’s what this is,” I say quietly. “You’re jealous.”
Her face goes red, her breathing sharp.
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“I’m trying to talk to you,” I counter.
“No, you’re trying to corner me and accuse me of being jealous.”
I get it. She’s insecure because I’ve done nothing to reassure her. She doesn’t know where I stand with her, which is fair enough. And now Valencia’s words have rattled her.
“Whatever Valencia told you doesn’t matter,” I say carefully.
“Well, to her it does,” Jessica snaps. “Because she still acts like she has a shot. So which one is it? Is she delusional or are you a liar? Because she made me feel like I lost you before I ever even had you—”
Jessica freezes and the silence that follows is enormous. The words escaped her without permission.
“Have me?” My lips twitch before I can school them. “You wanna have me, Jessica?” A smirk spreads across my face .
Her whole face twists in anger. “Stop smiling like that!” she yells. “You’re impossible!”
I take one slow step toward her, then another. “Yeah?” I murmur. “What else am I?”
“Don’t.” She backs up a fraction.
“Jealous?” I take another step with each word. “Possessive?” I lower my voice. “Yours?” I keep walking slowly.
Jessica’s eyes widen, furious. “Stop walking toward me,” she snaps, breathless.
When I keep walking, she steps toward me and presses both palms flat against my chest, trying to halt me.
It’s cute and hopeless. The pressure of her hands only tightens the heat twisting through my stomach.
“Stop.”
I keep walking until her arms lock straight, braced and trembling from holding me back. “I swear to God, if you don’t back off, I’ll slap you again.” She glares up at me.
My smirk grows. “Do it,” I murmur. “ Slap me.”
She’s breathing heavily, eyes flicking to her palms and back to my face. “Hit me,” I taunt softly. “If it’ll make you feel better.”
Her nostrils flare and she pushes off me with a huff. “You’re not even worth a slap.”
I’m smiling when she tries to push past me. Not happening. My hand snaps to her waist, the other to her face. My fingers slide along her jaw, angling her chin up. She gasps, but I’m already pulling her back into me.
Her balled-up hands slam into my chest, and her lips part to say something. I cut her off before she gets the chance, covering her mouth with mine.
I kiss her with all the heat and anger I’ve built up. Tasting her again feels like fucking heaven.
She shoves at me, fists pounding. She whimpers into my mouth.
I don’t let go. I kiss her deeper. She makes a strangled sound against my mouth—somewhere between outrage and need.
Her hands fist in my shirt and she pulls me closer this time .
My hands are everywhere, sliding down her neck, her waist, then lower until one slides between her thighs, cupping her through the fabric of her dress.
Fuck. Me.
She breaks on a moan, a sound that shoots down my spine and coils low in my stomach. Her body arches into my touch, and that’s all it takes.
My cock throbs so hard it hurts. My breath comes ragged against her mouth.
Her fingers curl in my shirt, and her mouth opens under mine, inviting me in. My tongue slides in, and her lips part wider. Our tongues tangle for a few blissful seconds before she pulls back and bites my bottom lip.
Sharp pain tears into my lower lip and the next thing I taste is blood.
The little menace broke skin this time.
Before I can catch her, she wrenches free, eyes wild.
Then she bolts. She actually runs, skirt snapping around her legs, hair flying, heels pounding the hardwood as she disappears up the stairs.
I stand there, with my bleeding lip and my hard dick, and deep in my ribs something hungry and feral crawls up. Need. And everything else she keeps dragging out of me.
My tongue drags over the cut on my lip, tasting iron and her. I breathe once, smile, and take off after her.