Chapter 9
I swear it wasn’t me.
Don’t get me wrong, it was hilarious and would’ve made for a brilliantly unhinged prank primed to push Dominic over the edge, but it wasn’t me. Only because—and I cannot stress this enough—I didn’t think of it first.
My palm slapped over my open mouth as a disbelieving gasp-laugh rushed through my lungs. I had no idea what to do. No idea who these men were, where they’d come from, or where on the psychological spectrum each of them landed on a scale of Mr. Rogers to Hannibal Lecter.
I continued to stare, wide-eyed, as the burliest of the bunch worked up the courage to wave at me. “Helloooo.”
Oh god.
Oh god oh god oh god. He was doing the Mrs. Doubtfire voice and a mangled, butchered version of the accent. It was horrifying. And so, so, sooo funny.
They all looked like they’d raided their respective grandmothers’ closets and snatched whatever garment was within reach in preparation for whatever this was. Two of them were wearing stockings. Four of them were in ill-fitting, lopsided wigs.
My eyes were watering. It was taking everything I had not to spiral into laughter-induced hyperventilation.
“Is, uh, Mr. Crawford in? Could you kindly get him for us? We’d like a word, if possible.” His voice cracked. There was lipstick on his teeth.
Kill me. I couldn’t breathe, and the tears were starting to leak.
Rendered entirely useless and unable to speak, I held up a finger to let them know I’d be right back and gently shut the door.
Then I collapsed onto my knees, stuffed my face into the chunky sleeves of my uniform, and started gasping with silent, breathy laughter until my whole face was wet, I was rolling around on the hard marble, and my stomach was cramping painfully.
I tried crawling farther away from the door so they wouldn’t hear me and, as luck would have it, almost got trampled by the raging bull who’d chosen that exact moment to round the corner, snarling about something, something, Alice, something, fucking pay for this, something, building every single piece, something, something, by hand, so help him god.
I couldn’t quite hear him over my own wheezing, but it all sounded very threatening and very serious.
He tripped over my leg. It didn’t help with the laughing.
“Christ—the fuck are you doing?” Dominic barked at my hunched, crawling form, actively regaining his balance. I curled deeper into myself with a small, squeal-like whine, my soul knocking on death’s door.
There was a moment where, even in the gasping, cramping chaos of my suppressed hysterics, I felt the air around me go eerily still.
“Alice?”
I couldn’t respond. I was clinging onto dear life, my face stuffed into my sleeve as I tried to breathe through the laughter and pain.
“Hey.” There was a tug at my shoulder. I shrugged it off.
The second tug was stronger, immediately followed by something heavy landing beside me.
The third one wasn’t a tug so much as two large hands lifting my upper body off the floor. I pressed both palms over my mouth, swallowing back the rough cackles clawing at my throat.
Dominic’s golden eyes scanned my wet, blotchy face. And went pitch-black. “What the fuck.”
He was on his feet, advancing toward the door, and ripping it open before I could regain enough control of my wits to stop him. Panicking, I scrambled to my feet, sniffling and wiping at my cheeks and reaching for the soft leg of the gray sweatpants he’d shoved on before storming downstairs.
But it was too late.
Judging from the delayed ripple of tension rolling up his back, it took him a few seconds to realize what he was looking at. Meanwhile, the five men were gawking at Dominic in all of his shirtless, muscled glory, like they couldn’t believe they’d actually managed to manifest him in the flesh.
Dominic’s thunderous attention zipped to me, and I bit down on my smile. This was when he realized he’d entirely misunderstood why I’d been curled up on the floor, wheezing. I could tell because the throbbing veins were back.
His threatening gaze cut back to the men. One of them jolted, his neck darkening to match the unblended rouge pressed to his cheeks.
“I don’t know what this is,” Dominic half growled with an accusatory glance in my direction, “but you have exactly ten seconds to get the fuck off my property before I—”
I gasped again. Loudly. And this time, it wasn’t accompanied by a laugh.
The burly man who’d waved at me earlier—the one whose tattoos were peeking out from the frilly collar his thick neck was stuffed through—had made a split-second decision that would haunt my every thought, dream, and decision from now until the end of time.
He’d spat on Dominic.
Right on his face.
For one shocked, breathless second, Dom took a step back and touched his cheek in utter disbelief. Right before the man said, in his horrendously awful Mrs. Doubtfire voice, “You don’t tell me what to do. Get on your knees and beg me to come inside like the little bitch you are.”
I’d inadvertently damned my own soul with this one.
The decisions I’d made leading up to this specific moment in time had all but guaranteed me a lifetime of karmic punishment.
Dominic snapped, charging forward with nothing short of murderous intent, his hands bunched into white-knuckled fists. “The fuck did you just say to me?”
I moved without thinking, inserting myself between my shirtless nemesis and his upcoming murder trial. “Dom. DomDomDomDom.”
But he couldn’t hear me. His eyes were pinned to his target, who thankfully had enough sense to realize something was very, very wrong and was now backing up.
“Sorry, man,” he sputtered in his natural baritone, palms raised. “I thought starting off in character would give me an advantage over the group—”
“You fucking spat on me, asshole! The fuck’s the matter with you!”
Oh, shit. Okay. Yeah. There was a very real chance the situation was about to escalate and spiral out of control.
With no time to think and acting purely on instinct and self-preservation, I placed my hand on his chest. Then, in a tone so soothing it felt like I’d slipped into someone else’s skin, I said, “Dominic. Please stop.”
Three things happened at once.
Despite my fears that he’d simply reach over me and snatch his victim by the throat, Dominic did, in fact, stop. His eyes snapped down to mine. His pulse tapped my palm.
“Don’t,” I pleaded quietly. “It’s just a prank. My fault.” I wet my rapidly drying lips as I braced myself, silently hoping he wasn’t about to push past me.
He didn’t. Instead, his gaze dipped down and traced the nervous flick of my tongue.
One by one, the other sensations started to register.
The hard, smooth feel of marble against my fingers.
The buzzing warmth radiating off his skin.
The harsh, irregular rhythm of his breathing.
And the faint scent of his soap, or cologne, or, um…
“Get off my property.” His chest vibrated with the low, gravelly command. His eyes were still pinned to mine.
Honestly, fair.
I lifted my hand and stepped back. But just as I was about to turn around, Dominic snatched hold of my wrist. His grip wasn’t rough, nor did it hurt. But it was firm enough to let me know he hadn’t been talking to me.
“Now,” he said. Again, while looking directly at me.
“Can I just say,” the tall, lanky one of the group interjected, hands fiddling with the dull chain of his kiss-lock purse. “Some of us got up at three in the morning to dress up and drove out here from out of town. All we’re asking for is a chance to audition.”
He turned to his left and grabbed something out of a large tote bag slung over the bearded one’s shoulder. “Look. We even brought our own toilet brushes. We figured whoever can get you off the fastest wins. What do you think?”
My whole body tensed.
I risked a smooth glance toward Dominic, and, sure enough, his expression vowed nothing short of imminent death. Directed at me. The others were all but forgotten.
I relaxed, batting my lashes at him. “Come on, baby. At least let them audition. What could it hurt?”
Both of his eyes twitched. One after another.
I offered the group an apologetic pout. “Sorry, guys. He’s a bit shy about some of his preferences, and we weren’t expecting to hold open auditions today. He just needs a minute or two to settle down.”
Dom’s fingers tightened, pressing into the sensitive pulse point on my wrist. A threat.
The tatted-up guy gestured between us. “Are you…”
“Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me. I’m Grandmommy. Baby’s owner.”
Thunder clapped above me, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise toward the cloudless sky. Turning back to Dominic, I went in for the kill. “Look, Baby. They brought you new toiwet bwushies. What does Baby say when people buy him toys to play whOASHIT—DOMINIC!”
The earth toppled on its axis as Dominic used his grip on my wrist to pull me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Without another word, he marched us back inside, slammed the front door, locked it, and stormed toward the stairs.
I wondered how he’d do it. Drown me in the bathtub. Throw me off the roof. Suffocate me with a pillow.
Regardless, I’d say it was worth it.
“Can I just say how much I commend the bravery of those men putting themselves out there like that?” I mused lightly.
“I mean, sure, the trespassing thing wasn’t great, but I warned you about not locking that gate, so whose fault is it—oof.
” He wasn’t all that gentle about chucking me on the couch.
I might as well have been a sack of potatoes.
I sat up right away, dusting myself off. “Anyways, as I was saying, I thinnphmnm.”
His palm pressed to my mouth, effectively shutting me the hell up as he took a seat beside me.
Using his other hand to whip out his phone, he thumbed the screen a few times before holding it up to his ear.
“Hey. Remember how I told you to hold off on hiring security last week? Change of plans. The timeline is now end of day. I want staff at the gate and eyes on the outdoor cameras twenty-four seven. And tell Fiona and Walt I’m officially taking the full month off—got something I need to deal with. ”
Oh, that was cute. He’d finally realized I wasn’t going anywhere, but still believed he’d last the whole month.
I smiled against his palm. It made his biceps bulge angrily.
“While you’re at it, let Velour know that assembly isn’t required for the delivery anymore.
I’ll get my housekeeper to do it. Turns out she’s got way too much fucking time on her hands, and it’s making her creative.
” I returned his glare with a wink. It backfired.
“And get me a leash. Make sure it’s geared toward human adults and has terrible comfort ratings. The more it chafes, the better.”
He hung up.
“This is the version of the game you want to play, Lice? You fucking got it.”
“Mpno ewawnm m menm.”
“You don’t have a choice. The leash is officially part of your uniform.”
“Mnmn mn penmnm.”
“I’m a pervert?” He shoved closer, bumping knees with mine. “Tell me, wherever did those men get the idea that I had a British grandmother fetish?”
“Mnm munmiem,” I corrected.
His canines flashed. “Of course. My mistake. Why wouldn’t I have immediately understood Mrs. Doubtfire was what they were going for?”
“Nmnmum lonmnunan mphnm phnrmu.”
“And you’re a fucking menace. Anything else?”
I thought about it, then shook my head. That was it for now. Just until I figured out what else I could do to push him over the edge.
Exhausted, wired, and fully satisfied with everything I’d accomplished so far today, I slumped back into the cushions with a gratified smile. Dominic didn’t drop his palm.
It took a few beats for me to relax and fully catch my breath. And another two to realize I was staring at him.
Or was he staring at me?
I couldn’t tell. I also couldn’t look away. His eyes had the gravitational pull of the sun, and the press of his palm was making tiny little sparks sprout under my skin.
His gaze started to become lazy and half-lidded, until it grew too heavy and had no choice but to dip down. It lingered on the dark blue hoodie I was drowning in with the same hazy look he’d given my mouth when I’d licked my lips—
“I’d rather eat the cricket.”
I blinked.
Frowned.
Turned my head to the side so he’d get the hint and drop his hand.
He may have preferred the cricket, but I’d rather be declawed and burned at the stake than have him touch me any more than was strictly necessary.
“Are we done here?” I asked coolly when my mouth was finally free. “I need to get back to work.”
He stretched out the hand he’d been silencing me with and cleared his throat before wiping it over his sweatpants.
I took it the way he intended—personally.
“No, Alice. We’re not done. Consider whatever further destruction you had planned on indefinite hold.”
“I didn’t have any other destruction planned for today,” I said. “Just an honest day’s work filled with cooking, cleaning, and laundry.”
It wasn’t going to be my fault when every single suit lining his closet ended up with massive iron burns. I was just a girl. A mere heiress.
I didn’t even know what an iron looked like.
Or how to plug one in.
I didn’t know how to plug anything in.
What was an outlet?
“You’re doing the Grinch grin,” Dominic said.
“I’m not doing the Grinch grin.” My expression had been kept impressively stoic. Unlike him, I didn’t wear my every emotion right where it could be seen, manipulated, and taken advantage of.
“Your eyes are doing it.”
“I don’t think they are. I think you’re just being paranoid.”
“Here’s how this is going to work from now on,” he said, ignoring me. “I’m not letting you out of my sight from the second you step onto my property until it’s time for you to leave.”
“What if I have to go to the bathroom?”
“Tough luck.”
“What if you have to use the bathroom?”
“I’ll tie you to a pillar until I’m back.”
My brows lifted. “You’re not willing to leave me alone for a thirty-second bathroom break?”
“That’s double the time you’d need to take a chainsaw to half this house.”
I beamed at him, pressing a hand to my chest. “Dominiiic. Thank you so much. That’s so nice.”
The doorbell chimed again, interrupting the tense working of his jaw. I patted his cheek, putting a little more force behind each one than necessary. “Furniture’s here. Come on, Grandmommy needs to build her baby a widdle cwib.”
By the last smack, he looked ready to develop an ulcer.
If I played my cards right, I’d be able to get him there by the end of the hour.