Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
dom
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Rafe asks, stepping beside me and propping an elbow on the bar. He swirls his own drink, a lazy, satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he looks out over the crowd. “You’ve got the girl, your money is where you can see it, and the board is off your back.”
We, no, there’s no we about this. Cory put her foot down and wanted our reception here, in our home, with our friends and family, mainly her mom, since I don’t talk too much to my parents anymore.
They also retired to Florida, of all places, where you’re most likely to develop swamp ass with the humidity down there than a permanent sunburn.
Now everyone is in our home after the wedding, and the one contingency was that we’d do the whole nine yards—fully catered with gourmet food, an open bar overflowing with top-tier liquor, a wedding cake sitting as a centerpiece on the marble kitchen island.
There’s even a photographer capturing candid moments, this was after we took more than I thought possible at the courthouse.
Cory had a look in mind, vintage with something or other.
I posed where I was needed, and when she looked at me over her shoulder, eyes darkening with desire, giving me a teasing smile in one instance, I nearly called the whole thing off, tossed her over my shoulder, and took her on the nearest available surface.
As it stands now, I’ve yet to have my wife, and I’m nearly at my breaking point.
“Fuck yeah, it does. The board was never going to win, Rafe.” I let out a low rumble of agreement, my eyes scanning the room until they find the one person who matters.
“True, but you’re definitely going to need those billions with how much you like to spend on your wife.
” He shakes his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“You’ve taken up a real habit of spoiling her lately, man.
A brand-new car, the dress today, the pink diamond jewelry that could rival royalty.
You’re making me look bad. I’m going to have to up my game with Sera.
” He’s got no room to talk. He’s just as bad, if not worse, with Seraphina, though she’s more into the designer brands and shoes, and from what Cory tells me, she’s given something new nearly every week.
“She’s impossible to give gifts to,” I mutter, taking a sip of my drink. Every item I’ve given her comes with some type of pushback.
“Aren’t they all,” he agrees. “Sera looks like she has an existential crisis every time a new box shows up.” His wife is a lot like Cory, stubborn with an independent streak that makes her fight me every single time, but damn, the making up makes it worth it.
She doesn’t want the luxury. Cory only wants the security and safety I proved her.
But seeing her wrapped in the clothes I’ve bought her, knowing she’s driving a vehicle that I don’t have to worry about breaking down on her during late-night commutes from the hospital is an absolute necessity.
I’d buy her the entire damn city if she let me.
My eyes drift back to my wife. She’s standing near the open glass doors leading out to the balcony.
Her cream-colored vintage gown glows under the lighting.
She’s deep in conversation with Romy. My instincts pick up on the shift in the room’s atmosphere.
Cory’s brow is furrowed, her hand resting gently on her friend’s arm.
Suddenly, Romy turns her head away, shoulders stiffening as she looks off and toward the dark Seattle skyline.
Even from across the crowded room, I can see the telltale shimmer in her eyes. She looks like she’s hiding more than tears when her lower lip trembles before she quickly wipes her face, trying to mask the sudden burst of emotion.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” a low voice murmurs to my left.
“Yeah.” I shift my gaze. Vik is standing near me now.
Rafe slipped away at some point. His dark eyes are fixed on the same exact spot mine are on.
His expression is unreadable, an asset in the boardroom.
Right now, it’s tight, a rigid mask that can only mean he’s keeping something massive under wraps.
He stares at Romy for a long, heavy beat, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticks under his skin.
“I’m out,” he mutters. He offers a curt, distracted, “Good night,” before he walks away, his long strides cut through the party with a heavy urgency.
He doesn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone else, just vanishes down the hallway toward the penthouse elevator.
Before I can fully process his sudden exit, I look back toward the balcony doors.
Romy is watching the space where Vik stood.
Her face has gone entirely pale, a look of conflict mars her face.
She quietly slips her purse over her shoulder, murmurs something to Cory, and leaves the penthouse, too, her exit is as abrupt as Vik’s was.
“Didn’t think Vik had a flare for the dramatic,” Rafe reappears murmuring dryly, a sharp, calculating look on his face. I don’t answer. I set my glass down and begin walking across the room, navigating past a laughing Genny and Jett until I reach Cory.
The second she feels my presence, she turns into me, her small hands finding my waist as she looks up at me, eyes clouded with a lingering worry.
“Sweetheart,” I mutter. My hand cups the back of her neck, thumb soothing the soft skin beneath her hair. “Are you okay?” She looks toward the door where Romy and Vik exited, then back up at me, her chest rising and falling in a stressed manner.
“Dom, something suspicious is happening.” Her voice drops to a quiet, hushed whisper, so the others won’t overhear.
She grips the fabric of my vest, leaning in close to my chest. “Between Romy and Vik. I don’t know exactly what it is, but the air between them, it’s like a ticking time bomb.
It’s going to blow up soon, Dom. I can feet it.
” I wrap my arms around her, pulling her flush against my body, offering her the solid anchor she needs right now.
I glance back toward the empty hallway where my oldest friend fled.
Vik is like a lockbox, and Romy is just as guarded.
Whatever storm is brewing between them, the warning signs are flashing red.
“Let it blow,” I whisper against Cory’s temple, kissing her soft skin as I hold her tightly. “Whatever it is, they’ll have to face it. But tonight? Tonight is about us.”