Chapter 13 Dominic
DOMINIC
I lean against the shower wall, pressing my face into my forearm, groaning as my strokes get faster.
“Fuck, fuck,” I mutter into the steamy air. This is wrong. I’m sick and twisted. What the hell am I doing, fucking wanking off in the shower to the thought of my daughter-in-law?
But fucking hell, as bad as it feels, the more I focus on her features as they swim before me. Her rosy cheeks. The sweet way she bites her bottom lip when she gets embarrassed. And curse me to hell, but I looked up her lingerie campaigns. Like a creep.
She looked so good. Black lace, red, purple, it didn’t matter. I imagined pulling all those lacy scraps from her body with my teeth. I imagined letting my lips roam all over her skin, feeling those long nails rake through my hair, over my shoulders.
And then I think about what she said, about sitting on my face and soaking my beard, and with a loud groan, I explode.
My chest pounds as I try to catch my breath. I blink the water out of my eyes, my hand coated in hot cum, and I wonder just what the fuck is wrong with me?
How am I supposed to face her, when I haven’t been able to get her out of my head? When all I’ve thought about is her? Every cell in my body is consumed with thoughts of her, and it’s wrong.
No, I need sobering up.
I need a fucking bollocking.
And I know who can give it to me.
I half expect her not to answer, but after three rings, the curt voice answers with a sigh.
“What do you want, Dominic?”
“Nice to hear your voice too, Cynthia.”
My ex-wife grumbles something to herself that I don’t quite catch. “Don’t pretend you’re calling me because you wanted to hear my voice.”
“As it happens, I wanted to ask you something.” I run a hand over my wet face, and Cynthia’s silence tells me she’s not at all curious about what I have to say, so I just get on with it. “Was I a bad husband?”
“Yes.” She doesn’t miss a beat, not a second of hesitation. “You’re selfish, and you’re a liar-”
“Hang on, I never lied to you.”
She scoffs out a laugh. “Oh bullshit. You told me that if I got pregnant, then so be it. All the while knowing full well you’d had a bloody vasectomy!”
“I never said that.”
“You did, three days after we got married.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, regretting this decision deeply. “I said I wouldn’t have minded more children if it were possible.”
“That is certainly not what you said.” She growls angrily down the line. “I’m not discussing this with you anymore. You knew I wanted kids.”
“Yeah, after we got married!”
“What do you think happens when you marry a woman so much younger than you?”
“Not everyone wants kids, Cynthia, fucking christ.” I take a deep breath, and steady myself. “Listen, I didn’t call to upset you.”
“All you do is upset me,” she snaps back, and even now that stings a little.
“We both know that’s not true. In the beginning, it was great.”
Cynthia laughs harshly. “It’s always great in the beginning.
Let’s face it, you’re charming, you’re handsome, you’re richer than Croesus, you’re good in bed - you’re in a prime position to charm somebody, to turn their head.
But what then? Hmm? You can’t make a marriage last, and you’ve really got a decent test pool there to prove it. ”
I hang my head with a sigh. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”
“No, you can’t. Why are you calling me about this anyway? Got a new lady in your sights?”
Yes. No. Yes. Bloody hell, no.
“What if I did?”
“I’d be telling her to run,” Cynthia says, her voice dripping with venom.
“I’d tell her you’re no good at settling down, and that you don’t want to.
That the men in your family don’t understand the first thing about love, or respect, or loyalty.
Look at your son. Poof - off he goes. Middle of the season, abandons his team, his wife, the poor thing.
” She lets out a cynical grunt. “I see you’ve been spending a lot of time with her. ”
“Still stalking my socials, ey?”
“You wish.” She sucks in a breath. “You were a bad husband, but you were also a great one, which makes it all hurt so much worse. You get in the way of yourself, and you’ll never be happy til you stop doing that.”
“Is that advice?” I ask with a chuckle.
“Take it however you want, I don’t care.” She inhales sharply. “Alright, I have things to do. Goodbye, Dom. Please don’t call me again.”
She hangs up, and I put down the phone on the bathroom counter with a sharp sigh. That was definitely the sobering up I needed.
I look at my face in the bathroom mirror. “You need to just stop it, mate,” I tell my reflection. “She’s not the woman for you. You can’t settle down, and the last thing she needs is being hurt again. Especially by some old fucker in this family.”
Except that talking-to doesn’t fucking last.
My car pulls up outside the gala, red carpet laid out, and cameras going off. Footballers and their partners, coaches, trainers - everyone is making their way into the enormous abstract designed hall. A few stop for photos, but only a few, before making their way inside.
I get out of the car amidst camera flashes and the press calling my name.
“Dom! Dom!” I pause in front of the backdrop emblazoned with sponsor emblems and team cests, posing for a few photos in a way that hopefully doesn’t make me look like a complete idiot.
“Dom! Dom! Are you here alone?” The question flies from the crowd, and is swiftly followed by the same question again, and again. I ignore it, because the answer is too awkward.
And then the attention of the photographers shifts to my left with the enthusiasm of a sudden tsunami.
“Mia! Mia!” They all call, the cameras going wild.
And when I turn to look, I can see exactly why.
I’m not at all prepared for the sight that meets me, and I should be. Mia lights up every room she walks into. But tonight, she’s beyond stunning.
She’s wearing a light grey fur coat, slung low around her shoulders to reveal the thin straps of her nude silk slip dress.
Her dark hair hangs over her shoulder in a cascade of luscious, shiny curls.
Her full lips are shiny with a plum-coloured gloss, and her thick black eyelashes make her jade-green eyes even more brilliant.
She smiles smugly at the crush of photographers as she moves to my side and takes my arm.
“To answer your question, no he’s not here alone.”
She smiles up at me, and I know a million and one photos of me ogling my daughter-in-law will be circulating on social media tomorrow. I’m too awe-struck to even care.
“Evening,” she murmurs as the cameras continue to go off in a blinding cacophony. “Sorry I’m late.”
“No, no, you’re right on time.” I cast a quick glance up and down her body. “You look incredible.”
“Why thank you.” She runs a finger along the lapel of my tuxedo jacket, and the photographers go absolutely feral. “You clean up rather nice yourself.”
We pose for a few photos before Mia pulls on my arm.
“Alright, that’s enough,” she announces. “Let’s get inside, it’s cold as balls out here. My feet are freezing.”
“Should have worn your snow boots.”
She lifts the hem of her dress to show me her shoes, intricately tied black lacing adorned with glimmering white stones, all atop a heel I cannot even conceive of balancing on.
“I chanced it for these, aren’t they amazing?” She grins at me. “Jimmy Choo for the uninitiated.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She leans into me with a laugh, and we make our way into the grand hall. It’s decorated with strings of lights, greenery everywhere, almost a jungle theme, which feels so out of place when compared with the cold London night we just came in from.
There’s a loud squeal, and Char comes sashaying towards us, dragging Jordan along with her.
“Ahhhh you’re here!” She wraps Mia in a hug, and then leans up to plant a quick kiss on my cheek. “You both look incredible.”
“Thank you, babes. You look gorgeous!” Mia steps back to take in the tight red dress Charlotte is wrapped in. “Wow.”
An attendant appears beside us, and gives Mia a nod. “May I take your coat, Mrs Graves?”
“Yes, thank you.”
I’m glad there are no photographers around when Mia slides the fur coat from her arms, because that would have been truly embarrassing. The low-cut back of the dress reveals so much of her beautiful skin that I have to consciously remind myself that my jaw cannot drop right now.
Shit.
I quickly avert my eyes, darting past Jordan’s face and quickly looking away from him too, because he’s smugly suppressing a smile which means I’m being obvious as all get out.
Great.
“You look amazing, Mia,” Jordan says, and Mia smiles at him indulgently.
“You all have to stop talking about how amazing I look otherwise I’m going to get a big head.” She lifts an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Dominic?”
“Nope, no, absolutely fine,” I say quickly, and gesture to the tables. “Shall we? I’m dying for a drink.”
I swear to god Charlotte mutters I bet you are as I pass her.
Jordan and I get the girls situated at our table before heading to the bar. The ballroom is humming with conversation and laughter, music playing softly in the background.
Jordan and I order our drinks - champagne cocktails for Mia and Charlotte, whiskey on ice for us - and Jordan turns to me as we take the drinks.
“Mia seems happy,” he says. “It’s good to see.”
“She’s rather incredible isn’t she?”
Jordan nods, his steps slowing as we head back to the table. “I sure think so.”
I give him an uncertain side glance, wondering if maybe, just maybe I’m misreading something. “You like her, don’t you?” My heart sinks a little at the words.
“I do.” He glances at me with a shy smile.
“Not like that, though. Really. She’s like the big sister I never had.
” He gazes over at the table with a sigh.
“She needs someone who can keep up with her, that one. Maybe even someone who can overtake her every now and then. God knows she’s been running ahead clearing the way all her life. ”