Chapter 31
Dominic
“Beautiful. Just beautiful,” Niko says with tears in his eyes. I have to smile at that. The man has always been a bit of a sap. That and he’s partaken in a about three hundred dollars worth of Dom Perignon.
“Thank you,” I say as he shakes my hand.
“Who would have thought that Dominic Wolfe of Bad Wolfe Security Solutions and one of the highest profiting boxers my ring has ever seen would marry one of my cocktail waitresses?” he asks, and I shove my hands in my pockets.
“Yeah. Who would have thought?” Rafe’s voice comes from behind me, and I turn to see him standing there with a grin on his face.
“Shaeffer,” I address him.
“Wolfe,” he follows suit.
“Funny, I don’t remember inviting you to my engagement party,” I say, my gaze heavy on him.
“Funny, I don’t remember Novella being an invite only restaurant,” he jabs back.
“What the hell do you want?” Andrew says. He’s never had the conversational control I do. It works out for him in the ring, but can make public quarrels a bit unhinged if he goes rogue.
“The same thing everyone else wants,” he says. “To congratulate the happy couple. You know, I have to hand it to you, Wolfe. I thought you were bluffing about you and Mila. But I guess I was wrong.”
“Yes, you were,” I say coolly.
“Alright. Well. I can’t wait to see the wedding bells ring. Which, if I had to guess, based on the deadline for Golden Rule, should be fairly soon,” Rafe says before walking away.
I can see the red hot anger coming off of Andrew, so I place a hand over his chest before he can pounce.
“Let it go,” I tell him.
“That was a threat,” he says.
“I know.”
“Didn’t you hear him?” he asks.
“Of course I heard him,” I say, and the two of us walk towards the bar together. “But that doesn’t mean I have to listen to him. You want a drink?”
“You got anything besides cheap champagne?” he quips, and it earns a small smirk from me.
“How about scotch?” I ask.
“That’s more like it,” he says as we take a seat. Once we have the glasses in our hands and the scotch flooding our nerves, Andrew looks over at me, shaking his head. “I don’t know how you didn’t turn him into ground beef right then and there.”
“Yeah, well, I figured it’s not the time or place,” I asked, sucking my teeth.
“He’s challenging you,” Andrew says.
“He’s not going to win,” I say back. “Whether he believes it’s real or not, Mila and I are getting married. It’s all part of the plan.”
“Do you believe it?” Andrew asks, and my brow knits together.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Exactly what I said. Do you believe it’s real or not?” he presses.
“Like I said. Getting married is part of the plan. And it’s kind of hard to do that if you’re not engaged, especially if you want it to be believable,” I say.
“Part of the plan. Right,” he nods, taking another sip of his scotch. I can tell by the way his lips are curling at the corners that he’s not done talking. “Let me ask you this. Was anything else part of the plan?”
“Anything like what?” I ask. “Just what exactly are you implying?”
“The obvious,” he says.
“Which is…?”
“Was falling in love part of the plan?” he asks.
“You know, you’ve got a lot of nerve–” I go off, but Andrew stops me.
“Oh, come on, Dom. It’s all over your face.
That wasn’t just a ruse proposal. You couldn’t get enough of the way she was looking at you when you slipped that ring on her finger.
And speaking of her face, those weren’t fake tears.
That was one of the most touching proposals I’ve ever seen.
If you’re actually trying to tell me, her, and even yourself that there are no real feelings involved, then I’m going to suggest you get that stubborn head of yours examined.
I think you’ve been clobbered one too many times. ”
I swallow hard and set my empty glass down, hopping off the stool. “Yeah well, it’s been fun, but I think I should go find my fiancé now,” I say before turning to walk away.
“Good luck, Romeo,” he says. “You’re going to need it.”
I find Lainey talking to Brendan by one of the fire pits, and she tells me that the last time she saw Mila, she was going into the women’s room.
I thank her, wondering if she knows the truth about our arrangement or not.
When she gives me a small, knowing smile, it answers the question for me.
I take in a deep breath and let it out, wondering who else knows.
Just as I approach the door to the single-stall bathroom, it opens, and she walks out looking startled and flushed.
“Are you alright?” I ask, instinctively touching her. Suddenly I’m questioning myself about all the things I just do instinctively.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says with a weak smile, but I don’t buy it.
“You sure? You look like you’re going to throw up,” I tell her, looping my arm around her.
“Oh, that already happened,” she says. Now I’m really concerned. Mila picks up on it and pats my chest. “It’s okay, really. I just…it was a lot of attention and a big surprise and–”
“I guess I should have told you I was planning on proposing,” I grimace.
“I mean, I knew that was the plan; I just didn’t know it would be tonight or in front of all these people,” she says. Something about the words the plan hits a nerve, though I can’t really explain what kind.
“I understand,” I tell her as I lead her back out to the party. Everyone is still buzzing, dancing, eating, and drinking; enjoying themselves. Everyone except Rafe and Brynn.
My eyes catch them across the way because they’re talking and keep looking in our direction. She’s saying something that has him nodding. And then his eyes fall on me and stay there. I don’t know what they’re saying, but if I had to guess, it’s nothing good.
“I feel bad,” Mila tells me as we drive back to the house. I reach over and take her hand in mine.
“You don’t have to feel bad. I’m pretty sure everyone thought we pulled an Irish exit for other reasons,” I chuckle. “Kinda worked in our favor though because I was done being around all those people too.”
“No, I mean I feel lousy,” she groans, leaning back in her chair, and I look away from the road to glance over at her.
“Are you sick again? Do we need to go to the doctor?” I ask.
“No!” she blurts out, quickly sitting back up. “I mean, no. I’m fine. I just get nauseous when I’m…from…social anxiety,” she insists, and I’m not sure I buy it. I also have a headache pressing behind my eyes from the events of the evening, and I’m glad we are going home.
After we get to the house, Mila kicks off her shoes and apologies for the hundredth time. “I’m sorry again,” she says. “I feel like I ruined the evening.”
I sigh and take her shoulders in my hands gently and kiss her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I promise. The proposal was perfect,” I insist and her eyes draw down to her hand.
“Yeah. It really was,” she whispers, and I watch as her small smile fades a little. Then she swallows, and something in me jolts.
“Hey,” I say, drawing her eyes back up to mine. “How about a bath?”
“That sounds nice,” she says, and I walk with her to the bathroom in her master suite.
As she undresses, I run the water, adding bubbles to the tub.
Mila lets her towel fall to the floor and steps gracefully into the tub.
My eyes sweep over her bare shoulders, the small of her back, the swell of her hips, and everything else.
“Oh my god, this is lovely,” she says as she sinks into the water, letting the suds swallow everything but her head, neck, and the top of her shoulders.
“Does that feel better?” I ask her.
“Yeah,” she answers, repositioning herself in the tub and rubbing her neck.
I get behind the freestanding tub and reach in, massaging her shoulders. I can literally feel all of her muscles softening in my palms. “How about now?” I ask.
“Much, much better,” she answers. “God, you’re good with your hands.”
“Oh, really?” I ask. “I could ease all of your stress if you’d like…”
Mila giggles. “I might regret saying this, and don’t quote me on it, but I think a shoulder massage will do. I’m actually pretty tired.”
It doesn’t bother me at all, but I had to make the offer. Mila leans her head back against the tub, and I massage her shoulders and neck until the water grows cool. I help her out, and she slips into pajamas before crawling into bed. Without thinking about it, I slide in with her.
“I was going to ask if you wanted to stay the night,” she says, still managing a teasing smile despite not feeling well.
“This bed is comfy,” I admit, and she giggles.
“You just like it because I’m in it,” she teases. This girl is going to have to lower the heat if she doesn’t want this to go any further. Just the cute banter is enough to get me hard.
Mila rolls onto her back and holds her hand up. The facets of the diamond catch the light of the moon outside, and it casts sparkles all over the room like a disco ball.
“Do you like it?” I ask.
“It’s beautiful. I promise I won’t get attached,” she says, tucking her arm back under the blanket. I study her after that comment, and she can feel it, and her eyes flash up to mine. “What? It doesn’t matter if I like the ring. It’s not real.”
“Oh, I can assure you it’s real,” I tell her. “It was my mother’s. And my grandmother’s.”
“I mean, the proposal isn’t real. Because the marriage isn’t going to be real. Wait. This ring was your mother’s?” she asks, looking at it again.
“It is. Was,” I nod, propping my head up on my elbow.
“You could have just given me something from a department store. A blue light special. No one would have known the difference,” she says.
“I would have. And so would my father,” I tell her.
“And how does your father feel about me wearing your mother’s ring?” she asks.
“It was his idea,” I say, and Mila looks at me.
“Really?”
“Really,” I answer.
Mila rolls onto her side so we are facing each other. “I thought he hated me.”
“I thought he hated me,” I say, and she laughs. I smile, loving the sound. I wish I could bottle that sound up and keep it for the days I feel alone.
“He doesn’t hate you,” I say, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “I don’t think anyone could hate you.”
“Oh, I’m sure there’s people who aren’t fond of me,” she says.
“Crazy people,” I say.
“I’m nothing special. I think that’s why we have to sell this so hard, you know?”
My brow furrows, and I frown. “What do you mean by that?”
“I’m just a waitress. A maid. I used to have money, or so I thought. I also had dreams and talent.”
“You still have talent. And the dreams part is up to you. They only die if you let them,” I insist.
“They die when your circumstances change beyond repair and you have to stop following them because the only thing that matters is survival. You know, the first month after my parents were gone, I lived in my car?” she asks, and my stomach bottoms out.
“You’re joking.”
“Nope. I took my twin mattress from my parent’s house and put it in the back of my old Jeep. I parked by the river, sometimes near schools,” she says, her voice relaxed. Her story has me anything but relaxed right now.
“You must have been so afraid,” I tell her.
“Not really, honestly. We used to camp a lot when I was little. I kind of just told myself every night that’s what I was doing,” she says.
I feel an intense urge to kiss her. To hold her against me and tell her she’ll never live like that again.
But I don’t. I can’t. Because I don’t know what she’s feeling and I’m too afraid to ask.
I’m still sorting out what I’m feeling. Whatever it is, it’s overwhelming.
“You’re not just a waitress,” I tell her after a long pause. “And you’re definitely not just a maid.”
“I’m Cinderella,” she says, and I can’t tell if she’s serious or if she’s falling asleep. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.
“How so?” I ask.
“Oh, you know. Rags to riches. Little apartment and waiting tables to a mansion with a grotto. Clearance rack to Prada. A ring that would make Grace Kelly jealous. Soon we’ll be married and then…it’ll be over. Midnight. And we all know what happens to Cinderella at midnight,” she murmurs.
“You’re not Cinderella,” I tell her.
But she’s dozing off. “And I love the ring,” she says, and like a dimming light, she’s out.
After that, I roll onto my back. Despite being exhausted, I’m wide awake.
My brain is anyway. I can’t stop thinking about all the moments we’ve spent together.
The heated banter in the beginning, running into her at the Cockpit.
Watching her dance. Feeling myself inside her.
Watching her face as orgasms rolled from me into her.
The way she lit up in the studio when I told her we could make it a dance studio.
I guess I never realized in all of those moments what was happening.
I hate to say it, but Andrew was right. I’m falling for her, hard. And the worst part about it all is that I never thought about what that would mean when it all comes to an end.