Chapter 37
Dominic
Much to her displeasure, I bend and scoop Lil’ Peach up as she crawls back through the flap in the laundry door. She’s been thoroughly entertained for the past twenty minutes as she mimics that obese feline, even throwing in a cute little “Meow” here and there.
Why I even bothered installing this thing, I’ll never fucking know. I told myself it was so the cat would have somewhere dry when it rained, so it wouldn’t sit at my window and annoy the fuck out of me, but that’s a lie. Deep down, I know I did it for Emily.
My opinion of Baboo-whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is hasn’t changed. I don’t want that fat bastard in my house, but seeing her grinning in the laundry with him this morning as he curled up on her lap while she pet him—despite being royally pissed at me—was enough to make me relent.
I typically don’t give a fuck what people think about me, but Emily isn’t just anyone. I care about her more than I’m willing to admit.
I hate that I let my own bullshit get in the way. I hate that my pride and my mistakes hurt her. I’m the guy people fear, the one who doesn’t flinch when things get messy. But with her, things are different, and I don’t know how to fix it.
I glance at the clock on the wall as I head into the kitchen with my squirming niece slung over my shoulder. It’s almost 5 pm. How fucking long is this luncheon going to last?
Opening the fridge, I peer inside. The platter of sandwiches Emily made us is long gone. There’s a ton of other food, but I can’t cook to save my life.
“How about pizza for dinner?” I ask Peach as I manoeuvre her onto the countertop and pull open the drawer where I keep all the fast-food flyers.
“Pee-zza,” she squeals in return.
I’m not even sure if Emily will be home for dinner, but I make sure to order enough for all of us just in case.
The pizza boxes are laid out and open on the dining table as I take a seat and hand a piece to Peach before grabbing one for myself.
I’m not even hungry—which is a first for me—but I still bite into the hot, cheesy triangle and chew slowly. My gut is in fucking knots, and I’m pretty sure I’m one tub of ice cream away from turning into a chick who stress-eats her feelings, and I despise feeling like this.
I wish I didn’t care, but fuck me, I do. This is why I’ve avoided this kind of shit my entire life. You can’t get hurt if you don’t let people in. But as much as I’ve fought these emotions where Emily is concerned, it’s useless.
I wish I could turn back the clock and stay on my fucking recliner when she entered the room. I took the best day I’ve had in a long time, and ruined it because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.
Maybe if I’d had some self-control, she’d be sitting with us now, and not out, God knows where, doing who knows what. Is she even coming back, or have I fucked things up for good?
Just as I bring the slice of pizza in my hand back to my mouth to take a second bite, I hear a key in the front door. I instantly abandon my food, tossing it back into the box and rise to my feet.
She came back.
The relief I feel is short-lived when I hear muffled voices and giggling in the foyer. She’s not alone. By the time I reach the hallway, I don’t see Emily, only Lucia.
“Where’s Em?” I ask, frowning.
“Hello to you too, big boy,” Lucia replies, slapping my chest as she passes. I can tell by the stumble in her steps and the goofy look on her face that she’s drunk.
“Where are you going? And you didn’t answer my question,” I growl, turning to watch her move down the hallway.
“I’m going to find Lil’ Peach. I miss my girl.”
“And Emily?” Where the fuck is Emily?
“She’s getting changed.”
“Changed? Why is she getting changed?”
Lucia glances back at me, smirking, but stumbles again as she reaches for the wall to steady herself.
“We’re going back out,” she deadpans, like it should’ve been obvious.
The fuck they are, is my initial thought, but do I really want to stop Emily from going? I don’t want to be accused of being anything like her ex. More importantly, would she even listen to me if I tried?
Lucia keeps walking, and I stand here for a moment, rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck from side to side, trying to shake the tension coiling in my muscles. If I blow my lid now, there’ll be no coming back from this.
“You’ve been out all afternoon,” I say, taking a few steps towards her.
She lifts one shoulder. “So?”
A growl bubbles in my throat, but I tamp it down.
I glance back towards Emily’s room, wondering if she’s had too much to drink—and if she’s okay—but I can’t even check. I’m probably the last person she wants to see, and with the mood I’m in, I’m liable to say something that’ll make this whole mess worse.
“Can I ask where the two of you are going?”
“Crimson Lounge.”
They’re going clubbing.
At least it’s one of the Famiglia’s clubs, so they’ll be looked after.
It’s where I used to work, so I know the place well.
It may be one of the classier spots in town, but it’s still a pick-up joint.
I know Lucia would never cheat on her husband, but Emily?
She’s a free agent. Is she going to find someone to give her the things she thinks I can’t?
I shove my hand into my pocket and pull out my phone as a slight panic settles in the pit of my gut. I search my contacts for Romeo’s number, then shoot him a quick message.
Me: Did you know your wife and Emily are going to Crimson Lounge tonight?
Romeo: And?
Me: And you’re not bothered by that?
Romeo: Why would I be?
Me: That place is full of sleazebags on the hunt for free pussy.
Romeo: If anyone even so much as looks in my wife’s direction, they’ll die.
I can relate to that. I don’t have any claim on Emily, but that wouldn’t stop me from maiming anyone who laid a finger on her.
How would I know, though? It’s not like I can go there and keep an eye on her; I don’t have anyone to watch Lil’ Peach.
The only two women I trust with my niece are the ones going clubbing.
Me: So you are cool with the mother of your child, your wife, going to a nightclub?
Romeo: I didn’t say that, but I’m not about to stop her.
Me: Pussy
Romeo: If you want to be the one to tell her she can’t go, be my guest.
When I don’t reply, he sends another message.
Romeo: Just as I thought. Who’s the pussy now?
I let out a small chuckle and shove my phone back into my pocket, shaking my head. That woman is a ball buster, that’s for sure, and I, for one, don’t want to be on the receiving end of her kind of crazy.
When I step into the dining room, I find Peach already perched on Lucia’s lap, both of them halfway through a slice of pizza.
“Why are you going to the club?”
Lucia’s eyes spark with mischief as I take a careful seat across from them. “Emily needed a wing woman. And she won’t find anyone better than me.”
“A wing woman,” I growl. “Why would she need a wing woman?”
“Because it’s obvious you don’t want her,” Lucia replies. “So I told her I’d help her find someone who does.”
“The fuck,” I mutter.
The small curve of her lips gives her away. Lucia is baiting me. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s pushing me and trying to force my hand.
Well, I won’t be manipulated so easily.
I shrug as I reach for another slice of pizza and casually take a bite. Lucia’s eyes narrow as she observes my every move.
I may be giving off I don’t give a fuck vibes, but inside I’m scrabbling for a way I can put a stop to this without looking like the colossal arsehole from last night.
I pace the floor like a crazed lunatic after bathing Lil’ Peach and putting her to bed. The girls left two hours ago, and when Emily finally reappeared from her bedroom, I nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw what she was wearing.
Every instinct in me wanted to bark, “Turn that sweet arse around, march back into your room and change,” but I knew I couldn’t do that. That sexy little black dress was way too fucking revealing, and don’t get me started on the knee-high boots.
I’d already made it clear I had no claim on her.
No right to tell her what she could or couldn’t wear.
It still didn’t stop my jaw from tightening as she strolled straight past me like I didn’t exist before crouching beside Lil’ Peach, pulling her into a tight hug, and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I heard her whisper, and those words had me grinding my back teeth so hard I’m surprised they didn’t shatter.
Across the room, Lucia watched the whole thing with a bemused grin, her eyes flicking from Emily to me like she was enjoying the show. It only made the rage inside me burn hotter.
I’ve always counted Lucia as a friend. One of the few people I’ve let myself give a damn about.
But in that moment, watching the knowing look on Lucia’s face, I started to question every bit of it.
I haven’t exactly admitted my feelings for Emily to her, but Lucia isn’t stupid.
She knows that woman means something to me. I know she fucking does.
It took every ounce of strength I possessed not to grab hold of Emily as she moved towards the front door and throw her over my shoulder, haul her back to my room, tie her to my fucking bed, and show her exactly why she didn’t need to go out tonight.
It’s not her going out that upsets me. She deserves time with her friends. It’s where they’re going and, most importantly, the reason she’s going that has my head spinning.
The idea that she’s out right now letting other men look at her the way I do. Touch her. To try and charm their way into her bed makes something dark and restless claw around inside my chest. Like fuck I’m gonna let some other fucker come into my house to ravage my woman.
I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams, and the worst fucking part is I did this to myself.
I shove my hand into my pocket and pull out my phone, but instead of texting Romeo this time, I hit call.