16. June #3
A figure appears in my doorway, casting a shadow into the room. “Everything okay?”
I turn to see Dominic standing there, leaning against the frame. His body practically taking up the entire space. He’s not wearing his jacket, and his sleeves are rolled neatly to his elbow, somehow making his already sexy outfit that much hotter.
“Yes.” I rise and make my way toward him, but he doesn’t move.
“Not very convincing.” He studies my face.
“What can I say, I must be a shit actress.” I stop in front of him, shoving my hands in the pockets of my stolen sweats, and wait for him to let me through.
“Is there something I can do?” His gaze remains on me.
“Other than step aside?”
Dominic plants one foot forward, then the other.
I crane my neck to look up at him but remain firmly grounded where I am.
He closes the gap, leaving no space at all between us. Not even a hair could fit between our bodies. He raises his hand and glides his fingers along the side of my face, tilting it toward him. “I can’t help you if you won’t tell me.”
“Who said I wanted your help?” There are a million other things I do want from him though.
Dom lowers his face, grazing his lips along my forehead, down my nose, and resting just against my mouth. “You know I can please you in more ways than one.” His words are a murmur barely spoken.
My eyes close and my body begs to react.
My bottom lip runs up his, hovering barely apart.
In a split second, I imagine him guiding me backward, shoving me onto the bed, and climbing on top of me, our tongues frantic to dance their familiar rhythm.
I’d rip his white dress shirt off, buttons flying, and I’d trail my hands down his chest and into his pants, grabbing onto his thick…
He breaks away, snapping me out of my fantasy. “But if you don’t want that.”
If only he knew how badly I wanted that very thing.
Dominic leaves me standing there with the female version of blue balls. He turns when he gets to the door, his hand gripping the wall. “Dinner is ready, you won’t be told again.”
I remain for only another second before following him out and down the hall, to the stairs. My stomach growls in response to the scent of something delicious wafting in my direction.
Dominic takes his place at the table, across from Magnus, next to Coen, leaving me the open spot across from Coen and next to Magnus. They watch as I approach, not yet touching their food. Were they waiting on me this whole time? Had I known that I wouldn’t have had a mini existential crisis.
The second I sit, it’s like they come to life, passing things around to each other.
Magnus holds his plate for Coen to put a steak on, then over to Dominic for asparagus and sauteed mushrooms. He finishes it off with a scoop of little potatoes that look crisp and tasty.
Magnus swipes the empty plate in front of me and lowers the full one in its place.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him.
Why can’t I just be normal and accept something nice being done for me?
I correct myself. “Thank you.”
Coen nudges a can of Dr. Pepper toward me, almost like it’s a peace offering.
If only he would open his mouth and communicate with me instead of flitting through various stages of ignoring me or pretending I’m not in the room.
“This doesn’t happen often, don’t get used to it.” Magnus nudges me.
“What doesn’t?” I ask him.
“A home-cooked meal, together, at the table, at a reasonable hour.”
“Oh.” I fork a piece of potato, letting the many flavors settle onto my tongue.
Salty, earthy, but with a bit of something else, maybe oregano, definitely garlic.
Yep, they’re as good as I thought they would be.
I cut into the steak, relieved when it’s pink inside.
It has the right amount of char and tenderness, and is seasoned perfectly, although, I’m not at all surprised.
Leave it to these three to know their way around a piece of meat.
We eat in silence for a few minutes until Magnus finally breaks it. “What time do you need to leave?”
“About that.” I press my napkin to my mouth and finish chewing the bite in my mouth. “Jack called and told me not to come in.”
Magnus tilts his head toward me. “Like ever?”
“No. Just tonight. I guess he double booked me and another girl. Ended up giving her priority over me.”
“The new waitress?” Dominic takes a sip of his water.
“Yep.”
“She’s terrible.” He slices a strip of steak and plops it into his mouth.
I eye him, watching the way his jaw moves. Something that shouldn’t be that sexy.
He swallows and continues speaking. “Really. I saw her mess up at least three table’s orders. She over-pours her drinks. She’s sloppy.”
And here I am, chopped liver compared to her because Jack doesn’t want to risk her quitting. Wouldn’t she be doing him a favor anyway, especially if she’s costing him money by being a fuck up?
“I could have a talk with him,” Dominic adds.
“What? No.” I shake my head. I glance down, realizing that I’m holding my knife in the air toward him. I lower it with my voice. “That isn’t necessary.” I add, “Maybe not with Jack,” under my breath.
“Neither is you working somewhere you’re not appreciated.” Dominic’s jaw tenses.
I shift my attention to Coen, who’s eating his food quietly, sadness written across his face. Magnus on the other hand is happily consuming his, practically giddy with each bite. He must have been hungry after our nap together.
Magnus points his fork at Dom. “I agree.”
“I can’t afford to quit. And it would be great if you didn’t get me fired either.” I focus back on Dom, doing my best to read his features. I recall when he brutally beat that man in the bathroom with no regard, something I’m sure he’d do again to Jack if I gave him the go-ahead.
Jack isn’t at the top of my list though. The man who attacked me is. And Carter follows close behind.
“At what point will you realize that money is no issue?” Dominic glances up from his plate and narrows in on me.
“Maybe when you realize this arrangement is temporary.” Even if I were to allow them to help me now, it wouldn’t be sustainable.
What would I do when I go back out into the world, a free woman?
With no job, no income, nothing to call my own.
I’m already risking too much by not finding a third paying gig and letting shifts slip through my fingers with the others.
“Okay.” Dominic pats his mouth with his napkin and places it beside his plate. “If I accept that, will you?”
Is he fucking with me?
He stands from the table, walks out of the room, and around a corner where I can no longer see him. The sound of electronic buttons floats back to us.
I look to Magnus and he shrugs, continuing to eat his dinner.
Coen remains painfully quiet.
Dominic returns, setting a stack of cash next to my plate. A golden band around it noting the denomination. It’s much smaller than one would imagine that amount of money would be, but considering it appears to be all hundreds, it adds up. “One month. Will that suffice?”
“You’re not serious.” I blink at it like it might disappear and focus on Dom.
He goes to his seat and sits back down, taking a drink of his water and not acting at all as though ten-thousand dollars is sitting out here with us. “It’s a yes or no, June. Do you require more? Because that could be arranged.” Dom scoots his chair out again.
“No.” I hold out my hand to stop him.
“Very well then.” He picks up a knife and cuts off another chunk of his steak.
“But I…I can’t take this.” I look between these three men, hoping one of them will speak up and question Dom for his antics.
Dom exhales and plants his hand on the table. “What are your reservations? I have no issue with it. Do you?” He shifts to Magnus.
“Nope,” Magnus replies.
Dom turns to Coen. “And you?”
Coen, with his head still a bit lowered, glances at me briefly, then at Dom. “No.”
“Then we’re all in agreement. The cash is yours to use however you see fit.
Although I would advise that you don’t use it all in one place, or make a lump sum deposit, unless you want the IRS snooping around.
If there is anything else you need, let any of us know and we will provide it.
At the end of the allotted time, we will assess how to go on from there, given your safety is still maintained.
If you choose to leave, a stipend will be given to you to allow you the opportunity to find proper employment.
In the meantime, my only condition is that you quit working until further notice. ”
“But I…” My words trail off because I’m honestly not sure what to say.
I want to be defiant, tell them that they don’t control me, that they can’t tell me what to do.
To toss the cash across the table and say I cannot be bought.
But at the end of the day, can’t we all?
Doesn’t each of us have a number they would do anything for?
Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. More than I would make in a month, or six.
And the only catch is I have to live here for a few weeks and not work.
The one thing that causes me the most stress is simply erased with a stack of crisp bills.
Wouldn’t I be a fool for turning this deal down?
They’re offering me safety, security, and financial support, not to mention anything else I could ask for.
And yet, there’s a pit in my gut opening up and screaming at me to run.
I don’t stick around, not this long, and sure as hell not a month.
This goes against everything I’ve worked toward to keep myself from being hurt.
The man who cut me the deepest is sitting across the table from me, living in the very lavish home I’m supposed to stay in.
He barely speaks to me. Hardly looks at me.
He’s hurting, I’m aware of that, but so am I.
Despite my own issues, I shouldn’t let that stop me from seeking solitude and shelter here. Although, the only way I can be okay with agreeing to this arrangement is if I set my own terms.