Chapter 7
Dominic
“I saw a news story about you the other day.”
I already have a glass of whiskey in my hand when my dad starts talking.
As soon as I saw the call coming through, I made sure my glass was two fingers full before accepting it.
As usual, he doesn’t start with how are you doing?
Or even how’s the weather? No, not even a simple hello from Enzo Wolfe.
He’s never started conversations that way, even when I was a kid, and I doubt he’s going to start now. Hence, the Kentucky bourbon.
“Well, Bad Wolfe Security has been doing well recently, so I’m not surprised,” I say, taking a sip and letting the liquid coat my stomach in a layer of heat.
“It wasn’t about your day job, son,” he says. He’s referring to the Ring, and if I had to guess, it has something to do with the way I left mid-fight earlier this week.
“Spelunking through the gossip of the dark web for sport, Dad? I thought you golfed on the weekends,” I joke, knowing full well he isn’t smiling.
The man hasn’t smiled since I was seven.
I’d put money on it. It’s just the way he is.
It might also have something to do with why I am the way I am, but I don’t have enough whiskey in my office to go into that.
“You walked out in the middle of a fight,” he says as if I don’t know.
“How do you know that’s not a rumor?” I ask, as I toss back another sip.
“I hoped it was. But when I saw how many people lost money because of you, well. It’s safe to say disappointment is no stranger in my house.”
Jab one.
I take a third sip. It’s an improvement I’ve made recently. I used to do a shot every time my dad made a passive-aggressive comment in my direction, but I wound up belligerent three minutes into the conversation and decided to cut back.
“Well, you can thank Rafe for that,” I tell him.
“Shaeffer?” he asks as if it comes as a surprise. My dad knows full well that Rafe has been a pain in my ass both in and out of the ring for years. “Haven’t you two come to some kind of an understanding? You work in the same field, for fuck’s sake.”
“Try telling him that. He was trying to pick a fight outside of the ring, so I decided to tap out,” I tell him.
“Sounds about right.”
Jab two. Sip four.
“He’s not worth it. And he was harassing the waitresses,” I say.
“If he’s such a cheap shot, why do you spar with him, Dom? Or better yet, why haven’t you won?”
“I can’t win against a cheat,” I tell him.
“You can if you play by his rules,” he says.
“Okay, let me rephrase that. I won’t sink to his level.
His security business has a reputation for playing dirty.
He’s done everything from embezzlement to hiring convicts.
He’s a snake, both in the rink and out of it.
It’s why I can’t let him outbid me for the Golden Rule partnership.
That’s one of the biggest investment companies on the planet.
I have money in them. You have money in them.
If a man like Rafe Shaeffer is running their security, nothing good can come of it. We could lose big.”
“You’re being dramatic,” my dad says, not hearing a word I have to say as usual.
“The possibility of losing every penny I have to my name is dramatic to you?” I ask, taking another sip just for good measure. If the conversation keeps going like this, I’m going to have to refill my glass just for good measure.
“You have more money than that,” he says. “Some of it is just inaccessible to you right now.”
I grit my teeth. “So you’re really not willing to bend on the stipulations of releasing my inheritance?” I ask. “Even though the premise of it is practically medieval.”
“Asking that you be married in order to access your inheritance isn’t unreasonable,” he says.
“Dad. I just turned fifty,” I remind him.
“I’m aware. All the more reason you shouldn’t be sleeping in a cold bed,” he says on an exhale, and I can practically smell the cigar through the phone.
“Look, son. I’m doing you a favor here. When you opened a security company, I thought you were taking a pretty big risk.
But I was impressed when you ended up doing alright for yourself. ”
I nearly scoff, but take a slug of whiskey instead. I want to laugh in his face. But I’m still trying to get him to budge on the preconditions of my inheritance, so I decide against it.
“I trust that if you want to be able to outbid Shaeffer on the Golden Rule job, you’ll do what you have to. Pretty girls aren’t hard to find, and lucky for you, most of them can be bought.”
And with that, I am finished with this conversation. I hang up and down the rest of my glass, slamming it onto the desk. I’m about to reach for the bottle again when a soft knock comes to my door.
“Yeah,” I call out, still reeling. Mila steps just inside the doorway.
“It’s four, sir,” she says.
“Yes, it is,” I say. “And you usually stay until six, don’t you?”
“I believe I discussed with you last week that starting today I would need to get off at four because of my–”
“Third job, that’s right. Yeah, you can go.”
She bites her lips, and I can’t help but stare at them. Something about the way she does it makes my heart beat fast and my blood run hot. I look away. I’ve had too much to drink.
She turns to leave but then turns back. “Is everything okay?” she asks.
“Why do you ask?” I ask her, turning the empty glass on the desk and staring into the bottom of it with a scowl.
“Because you usually don’t start drinking until six,” she says.
“And how do you know that?” I snap. I’m surprised to find her smiling when I look up at her.
“Because that’s usually how I know what time it is. Six on the dot, you pop the top,” she answers, still smirking. That’s when I notice for the first time, her eyes are the same color as the whiskey in the bottle in front of me.
“Observant little thing, aren’t you?” I ask, still spinning the glass.
“Attention to detail is part of my job,” she says. “That and bartenders pay attention to people’s poison of choice,” she says, then she walks out.
I get up from my chair and am taking the bottle back to the shelf when I hear another rap on the door.
“Yes, Miss Rojas?” I ask.
“Guess again,” a male voice floods into the room, and I turn to see my best friend and business partner, Andrew, standing there.
“Who let you in?” I ask, closing the liquor cabinet.
“Your maid did,” he says. “On her way out.”
“You mean Mila?” I ask.
“You never told me she was hot,” he says.
“I never thought about it,” I say.
“Oh please,” Andrew laughs. “Even you, Mr. Heart of Stone, has to admit that girl is fine as fuck.”
Let me preface the rest of this conversation by saying Andrew is like a brother to me. He’s more often than not a pain in my ass.
“She’s my maid,” I tell him.
“And?”
“And I’m not going to fuck around with a housekeeper. She vacuums my floors for fuck’s sake,” I snap.
“Tell me she at least does it in a cute little costume and not the leggings and high-necked tank top she just had on,” he says.
“Is there a reason you’re here?” I ask.
“Always,” he says with a smile. “It’s Friday.
Game day. The Lakers are playing, and since you are the only rich man in the state of California that doesn’t like sitting courtside, I’m dragging your ass to the bar and we are going to get drunk; maybe laid, if we are lucky.
And I don’t know about you, but I am feeling pretty lucky. ”
“I can’t get drunk,” I tell him. “I have a rematch tomorrow night with Abram. And this time I will not get distracted.”
“You just got off the phone with your dad,” he says. “Which means you’ve already been drinking.”
“How do you know that?” I ask.
“The maid told me,” he grins.
Observant and nosy.
“I’ve already had enough,” I say.
“So watch me get drunk then. I’ll even let you pay. Now let’s bounce.”
There is no use arguing with Andrew. He is very persistent and very annoying when he’s persistent. We hop in my car and head to The Score, a high-end sports bar in Beverly Hills. It’s too crowded for the mood I’m in, but the food is good and most people are watching the game so no one bothers us.
“So how are things with the old man?” he asks, dragging a chip through the artichoke dip he ordered. “Any movement on the inheritance issue?”
I shake my head as I take a sip of the beer I ordered. Fuck it, I’ll just go for a run tomorrow and sweat it out.
“He’s still hell-bent on this whole marriage thing. It’s crazy.”
“Honestly, I feel like it’s kind of an easy fix,” he says, and my eyes bolt up to his.
“How do you figure exactly?”
“Most people have to wait for their parents to croak to get their money,” he says, unaware that his statement was a good knife twist to my chest. My dad is alive and well, but my mom passed when I was a kid.
There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about her.
“All you have to do is saddle up and settle down.”
“I’m not even actively dating,” I point out. “That makes it a little hard to fall in love in the near future.”
“I’m not saying fall in love,” he says. “Just find a chick you tolerate enough to get the money. I doubt anyone you ask will say no to you.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I say, taking another sip.
“Suit yourself. Who knows, maybe Rafe will lose interest in the Golden Rule partnership. Running security for a Wall Street level investment company is no small gig. Of course, he could be determined, and he could embezzle all the money you have invested in the company—money that you can’t access until you’re sixty-five.
“You’re such an encouraging friend,” I say sarcastically, but Andrew just chuckles.
“Sorry. Fine. We won’t talk about that anymore.”
“Thank you,” I say, digging into the ahi steak I ordered.
“Let’s talk about you getting laid, though,” he goes on.
“Or we could not talk at all and enjoy our dinner in quiet,” I suggest. Meanwhile, the Lakers score, and the room erupts, negating the point of my suggestion.
“All I’m saying is you are under a metric fuck ton of stress, Dom. It wouldn’t kill you to get your rocks off once in a while,” he says.
“Is that an actual unit of measurement?” I ask, avoiding the subject of the conversation.
“When’s the last time you got laid?” he asks.
“Recently,” I answer.
“Recently enough that you aren’t in a dry spell?” he presses, and I think about that. I don’t know how to answer that. I’m not in a dry spell, that’s for sure. And it’s not because I’ve gotten laid since I was with the girl from the Cockpit.
But the memory of her face when I hit the ropes, the fear in her eyes when Rafe grabbed her, and the way her jaw unhinged when she came all over my dick…
well. I think it’s safe to say I’ve had blue balls ever since.
Problematically, she was gone before I could even ask her name.
I have no idea who she is, and I can’t stop thinking about her, waitress or not.