Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Alicia
Creeping out of my room, I tiptoe halfway down the stairs, peering into the living room to make sure it's still empty.
When I only see Jellybean lazing around on the sofa, and don't hear any other noise in the apartment, I hurry back up the stairs, stopping outside the door I know leads to Dom's office.
He hasn't come back home for the past two hours, or not that I know of anyway. I'm hoping with me punching him earlier and slamming the door in his face, it was a clear enough sign I want to be left alone.
With the impression I'm going to be left alone for a while, and not knowing when the next time will be after everything that's happened today, I decide to pull up my big girl panties, and sneak into his office to—hopefully—find something of importance I can give to Lenny so he'll get off my back.
The annoying fucker has already messaged me twice since our phone call, asking if I've got anything for him yet.
Ignoring the feel of my stomach twisting, I twist the handle of the door and slowly push it open, revealing a dark room filled with luxurious wooden furniture.
Stepping into the office and closing the door behind me, I splay my uninjured hand against the wall, searching for the light switch, and when my fingers graze across it, I press it down, bathing the room in light.
Large bookcases sit on either side of the room, filled with folders, books, and picture frames. His desk is positioned in front of the glass windows that run along the back of the room, and a small table and leather couch stand between myself and the desk.
The room is bland, lacking character, but I'm not surprised. That seems to be Dom's style.
Not wanting to chance being caught snooping around—in case he does decide to come back—I move across the room, around his desk until my back is facing the floor-to-ceiling windows, and I look at the barren surface of his desk.
The only thing on top of it is his laptop and a single brown folder with a stack of papers inside it.
Casting my eyes across the bookcases on either side of me, I decide to look through those first, doubting I'd be able to hack into his computer.
I don't bother to look through the folder boldly placed on his desk—if he has anything in here of importance, surely he wouldn't leave it lying around for anyone to get their hands on.
Smoothing my hands along the spine of the folders, I read over all of the titles, bypassing the ones dated from years before. I ignore everything to do with the Rossi's on it, knowing none of it is likely to be helpful to Lenny.
After searching for almost twenty minutes, I move on to the other one, but yet again, come up empty.
Huffing, I pull out his desk chair and sit in it, sinking into the plush leather seat.
Opening the drawers, I'm met with notepads, sticky notes, and pens in one, so I move on to the next one, which is deeper.
When I pull it open, a crystal decanter comes into view with a few tumbler glasses to match. I let out a humourless laugh as I close the drawer again.
As I go to move onto the other set of drawers, my hand nudges the mouse on his desk, and his computer screen comes to life.
Glancing up at the screen, I see it's unlocked, and my brows raise in surprise.
You've got to be shitting me.
There's no way he doesn't have a passcode on this thing.
This man either has no sense of security, or he's so confident in himself and his people he doesn't think he has to worry about anyone snooping around and gaining access to all of the information he holds.
Little does he know, he all but invited a traitor into his own home.
The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth, and I hesitate as I reach for the mouse.
I may be pissed with him, but do I really want to potentially give my brother something that could completely ruin this man and his family?
Grimacing at the thought, I remove my hand from the mouse and stand from his desk, looking out the window behind me, my eyes scanning over the surrounding buildings.
I shouldn't feel bad.
The whole time I've been married to him, he's kept me locked away, tried to control everything I've done, and even gone as far as to handcuff me to the bed. Not once, but twice. I don't owe this man any loyalty.
He made me feel rotten, and he deserves to feel the same way.
It may be petty, but when my feelings are hurt, I enjoy being a bitch, and I think it's time he learns that.
Turning back to the desk, my eyes snag on the brown folder, and I pick it up, flicking it open.
If he's not got a password for his computer, then maybe he is dumb enough to leave important documents in the middle of his desk.
Flicking through the papers, I see his handwriting scrawled across some of the documents from where he's taken notes while reading through.
I flick past the ones to do with clubs, knowing Lenny will probably tell me they're useless, and I keep scanning each document until I come to the last few.
Emails have been picked apart, words within paragraphs highlighted and underlined, as if Dom was picking apart a code, piecing together a message.
My eyes light up when I read through his notes and see he has a shipment of guns coming into the marina in two days' time.
Quickly pulling my phone from my pocket, I send Lenny a text.
I hurriedly put all of the documents back into place before carefully putting the folder on his desk, hopefully in the exact same spot.
I hightail it out of his office and rush back to my room, heart beating fast and sweat rolling down my spine as I pray he doesn't notice I was in there.
I'm in the kitchen when I hear the elevator moving.
If it weren't for my stomach growling at me, and my hands weren't submerged in soapy water, I'd run out of here, locking myself in my room again to keep from having to face Dom.
But instead, I stay put, straightening my shoulders and taking a deep breath before he enters the room.
Jellybean yaps at him, her paws scratching against the tile floor as she excitedly runs towards him. I hear a deep chuckle echo through the room, and the glass in my hands drops back into the sink, splashing water across my pyjama top as I stand there, shocked.
I think that's the first time I've ever heard Dom laugh, and the sound shot straight to my stomach and sent a smooth shiver through my body.
"Hey, Jelly."
My jaw hangs, and I subtly glance over my shoulder to see Dom crouched down beside the kitchen island, stroking Jellybean as she jumps up at him, licking his beard.
What the fuck is going on?
Am I dreaming?
Focusing back on the task at hand, I pick up the glass I dropped a moment ago, swiping the sponge across it as I absentmindedly go about washing it while I continue listening to Dom coo at my dog. The dog who he's seemingly hated since I moved in here.
Have I entered an alternate reality or something?
Finishing up with the dishes, I dry my hands on the tea towel beside the sink and turn around, leaning against the damp lip behind me to stare at Dom, who's now sitting at the island, phone in hand.
"There was a lasagne left in the fridge with tomorrow's date on, so I thought I'd cook it tonight," I tell him.
He grunts but doesn't look up from his phone.
"There's enough for both of us," I add, a bite to my tone.
No response.
Not even a nod or a hum. Nothing.
Narrowing my eyes, I fold my arms across my chest.
He cocks a brow, and his lips tug up the slightest bit, but still, his gaze remains locked on his phone screen.
Fed up with him paying more attention to something or someone else, I move towards the island and slap my hands onto the surface, finally gaining his attention.
He turns his phone off, placing it face down on the countertop in front of him, and glances up at me with raised brows.
"Yes?"
"Would it kill you to acknowledge me for once?" I ask, voice raised.
"Who says I don't acknowledge you?"
I scoff, folding my arms again, but move them back to my sides when his eyes drop to my chest and a smirk takes over his face.
"You act like I don't exist!" I shout, throwing my arms up in the air and shaking my head.
"Whenever you're at home, you spend all of your time staring at your phone.
You hardly ever talk to me unless it's to tell me to stay here, and even then, you'd prefer to leave notes on the side so you don't have to speak to me.
Instead of spending any time with me at all, you pass me off to any man who works for you, even though I'm unsure I'd want you to anyway.
And every time we're in a room together, you act as if it pains you to look at me, for God's sake! "
By the time I'm finished, my chest is heaving, my cheeks are flushed, and my hair is a curly, tangled mess from running my hands through it.
He stares at me, his warm, honey brown eyes melting into mine as he stands from the island and unbuttons the collar of his shirt, quirking a brow as he slowly steps towards me.
"You think I don't pay attention to you, little viper?"
He takes another step forward, and I take one back.
"You really think I'm more interested in anything that isn't you?"
Another step.
When I take a step back to counteract his movement, my lower back hits the countertop behind me, and I let out a small, silent gasp, realising I'm trapped.
"You think I don't want to spend an ounce of time with you?" he asks, his voice soft and laced with a hint of desire that has my traitorous body heating up and coiling tight. "You really think that, Alicia?"
The sound of my name on his lips as he takes his final step towards me, and the way he leans in close, placing his hands on either side of the countertop beside my hips, has my stomach clenching.
His hooded eyes don't leave mine, and when I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, he leans closer, his beard scraping against my jaw as his lips skim against my ear.
"Do you honestly think I pay no attention to you at all?"
Intoxicated by the smell of him and overwhelmed by the desire coursing through my veins from how close he is to me, I arch my back, trying to move my face away from his, but intentionally pushing my body closer to him as I nod.
"Yes," I whisper. "I do."
He pulls away from me, arching his damned brow again as the smirk on his face falls away.
"Well, I guess I'll have to show you how wrong you are."
Still drunk on feelings he elicited in my body moments ago, I'm too slow to stop him when he bends down, banding his thick, muscled arm around my thighs and lifts me over his shoulder—again.