Chapter Four #2
The conversation is just as good as the food.
It takes a few tries, but gradually Dominic opens up.
He tells me about his adoptive brother Aiden’s recent engagement to his secretary, a story I remember seeing in the news, and his other adoptive brother Cassian’s recent foray into shipping in the North Atlantic near the British Isles.
I learn more about the Hawke Foundation and how each brother hosts a gala every year to raise money for a charity or cause of their choice.
When Dominic tells me about his autumn ball in New York, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to attend with him.
I tell him about my time at Oxford, my hopes of going to Yale, my favorite memories from the clinicals I did to earn my nursing assistant certification. We talk about books, music. He shares his love of James Bond movies, which leads to a spirited debate over the best Bond.
“If my grandfather were alive, he’d be shouting by now,” I say with a laugh. “He had very strong opinions when it came to 007.”
A distant siren echoes off the walls. I turn and glance over my shoulder in time to see a police boat pass by, sirens wailing and lights flashing. I smile slightly as I turn back to face Dominic. Venice is a completely different world.
Dominic leans back in his chair. “You two were close.”
I smile wistfully. “He was both grandfather and father to me.”
“Did he support your goal of going into medicine?”
“He did. He believed in royals, especially those not in line to the throne, having other responsibilities that kept them grounded, in touch with the people they served.”
“And your parents don’t?”
My mood nosedives. “Why ruin a good evening talking about them?” I grab my flute and take a long drink of rosé. “Besides, I’ve been monopolizing the conversation. What about you? I know you used to be a Ranger in the Army.”
He nods. “Special Reconnaissance.”
“Why the military?”
It takes him a moment to respond, as if he’s trying to find the right words. “I got an accelerated degree in criminal justice with an international intelligence focus. The content was interesting.”
“But boring.”
Surprise flashes across his face. “Yes. I was approached by a military recruiter my senior year. They offered what I wanted, so I took it.”
“And how did you decide to get into private security?”
One corner of his mouth quirks up. “Do you know how John Hawke came to adopt Aiden, Cassian and me?”
“Yes. I read it in a magazine article after I found out you were going to be my bodyguard. One of your brothers tried to pick John’s pocket. John caught him. Gave you all a choice to leave the streets.”
Dominic’s face softens a fraction. “Not just a choice. A chance.” Grief flashes in his eyes, raw and so deep it startles me. “He was a good man.”
I want to ask, want to learn more about the man sitting across from me. But I don’t want to pressure. I know what it’s like to be under scrutiny, to have people clamoring for the details of your life.
“You want to know more.”
I grab a cannoli. “It’s spooky how you seem to know exactly what I’m thinking.”
He grins. The sight would knock me off my feet if I hadn’t already been sitting. It transforms his whole face from dark and brooding to devastatingly charming.
“You should do that more.”
“What?”
“Smile.”
“I prefer to come across as ominous and menacing as possible.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Why?”
The smile disappears. His eyes grow distant as he turns and looks down the long corridor between our hotel and the next. “My life before John adopted us was hard.”
I remember the insinuations in the article about the boys’ past, including picking pockets on the streets of New York.
“Being big, I naturally fell into a protective role. Aiden and Cassian were my brothers, but I kept an eye on a few other kids, too.”
My throat tightens. “And by keep an eye on, you mean take care of them, don’t you?”
He looks out over the canals. “I wanted them to have someone to go to.” He shrugs. “Tactical advantage, too, when you have half a dozen kids working together to get food and money.”
I’m not buying that excuse for a second. But I’m not going to push, either, not when he’s sharing details of himself I imagine he hasn’t shared with many others. “But then you got adopted.”
“We did. I had some concerns, but it was too good of an opportunity. I finished high school, got a college degree because John wanted us to have an education, but it wasn’t my kind of environment. I joined the army after I graduated…” His voice fades for a moment. “I missed the action.”
I can see it now: a younger, leaner Dominic sitting in a classroom, pushing himself to succeed even as he struggled against the restraints of collegiate life.
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
I sense more than see the tension that grips him for a moment, then bleeds away just as quickly.