56. Kiera
KIERA
I wasn’t sure where I’d find Dom until I heard the pacing coming from the kitchen, followed by the low rumble of voices.
“It’s a good thing. You’re working yourself up over nothing,” Leo murmured.
But Dom merely grunted back, “Are you sure about the tie?”
“Skip it,” Leo sighed. Clearly, she’d said that several times already.
As I stepped closer, I could see Spencer sulking on a barstool with her back to Dom, clearly sick of her venting. Leo sat up on the island, watching Dom as she nearly paced a hole into the floor.
I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten dolled up. Dom looked sharp in a black button down and suit jacket that perfectly matched the shade of my dress. Her hair was perfectly combed back, revealing a fresh shave at the sides.
I’m sure it had only taken her a minute to get ready — masc privilege and all — but I couldn’t help my shock at just how nice she looked.
It was Leo who saw me enter the doorway first and alerted the others. “Holy shit, Kiera.”
Dom and Spencer’s heads both whipped up to see me. But while Spencer’s jaw dropped to the floor, Dom’s simply clenched tighter, her neck flexing as she swallowed.
Spencer nearly fell out of her stool as she turned to get a better look at me. “Oh my god, I could cry. Are we seriously wasting this outfit on Dom?”
Leo smacked Spencer over the head before looking me over again. “Fuck, you look beautiful, baby.”
But Dom didn’t say a word — not about my outfit, and not about Spencer’s comment. Instead, she took a step forward, holding out her arm for me to grasp.
Fighting back a blush, I linked my arm in hers, before letting her lead me out of the kitchen.
“Have her home before seven, young lady,” Leo teased as we slipped from sight.
“Not a chance,” Dom grumbled back, the first hint of a smile I’d seen all night teasing at the corner of her lips.
But as I let her guide me away, I was confused when we turned left out of the kitchen. “The front door is…”
“I know where the door is,” she raised a brow at me. “We’re not going out the front.”
Before I could ask what she meant, Dom swung open a door at the end of the hallway — one that hadn’t been there when we were kids. “Where the fuck?—?”
“Just go.” Dom sighed. “Trust me a little.”
Trust was exactly what I was struggling with. Peering down the darkened stairwell beyond the door, it was hard to let go of the creeping fear that this was some elaborate scheme to kill me.
But what choice did I have but to take the plunge?
She hasn’t killed me yet, tempted as she might be.
I took the first step, wobbling slightly in my heeled boots.
“Banister’s on the right,” Dom rumbled, quickly filling the space behind me.
Holding on for dear life, I took the next step, and then another, trying not to flinch as the upstairs door shut, plunging us into darkness.
I had no fucking clue where she was taking me until I reached the polished cement of the basement landing. The motion-sensing lights flicked on in a slow cascade, illuminating the massive underground garage inch by inch.
Between sleek rows of wood paneling above, designer lighting fixtures bounced off the polished cement floors, filling the room with a warm glow.
Black marble walls made it nearly impossible to gauge the room’s depth, but the sheer number of luxury cars and bikes collected down here told me it was at least a few hundred feet.
Leo’s Alfa Romeo was parked at the end of the bunch, just a few feet away from Dom’s gold Camaro. But given their flashy price tags, I was guessing that most of the cars down here belonged to our tech tycoon.
It had to be a new addition to the mansion: I certainly would have remembered a place this stunning otherwise. But still, I couldn’t stop the words falling from my lips. “What the fuck?”
Dom smirked as she guided me down the wide path between the cars. “Can’t risk these beauties rotting in the elements.”
She strode down the pathway easily, like we were walking through some old hallway and not a collection of the most expensive cars on earth. I rolled my shoulders back, trying to match her confidence as we approached the Camaro.
But to my surprise, we didn’t stop there, taking a turn and heading toward a collection of vintage choppers.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea given…” I gestured up to the intricate hair and makeup she’d arranged for me, but she didn’t slow her pace.
“We’re not riding them. Not tonight, anyway.”
I furrowed my brow, struggling to keep up until a gray bike at the end of the line stopped me in my tracks. The air squeezed right out of my lungs as I squeezed her arm for balance. “There’s no way…”
“Except there is.” She smiled, tugging me forward.
My knees shook as we approached a 1990 Harley-Davidson Fat Boy raised up on a circular, wooden platform. I didn’t know many bikes by name, but this one was seared into my memory from childhood. The Grey Ghost: my dad’s favorite bike.
My brain flooded with memories of him working on it in the outdoor garage, summers spent sneaking ice creams while he serviced it, slow rides up and down the driveway when no one else was looking.
Aside from me and mom, this bike was the thing he treasured most in the entire world. And as my eyes caught on the custom stitching on the seat, I realized that this wasn’t just the same model.
“Is it… his?” I breathed, taking a step closer to the bike.
“Mhm,” Dom murmured, watching me carefully from a few steps back. “I thought you might want it.”
“How is that even possible?” I laughed as tears welled up in my eyes, “Mom sold this thing so long ago for all the cash she could.”
“To me,” Dom shifted her weight, inching closer. “Not that she knows that.”
As my hand brushed against the leather seat, my skin prickled. I wasn’t sure how to feel as rushes of joy and sadness crashed against one another in my chest.
I was thrilled to have a piece of my dad back — between the constant moving and Maura’s hunger for cash, there were very few mementos of my father left.
But it was hard not to feel weird that Dom was a part of it. That she had been expecting me to come back this whole time.
“Do you ride it?” I asked, looking back at her as my hand came to rest on the handle bar.
“No,” she shook her head, her expression deathly serious. “No, it's yours. The title’s in your name. I only take it out to keep the engine warm and to get work done. Otherwise, it’s as close to his mileage as I could keep it.”
At that, the tears threatened to spill. But instead, I took a step toward Dom, softly punching her chest. Her eyes widened at the sudden touch, but to my surprise she didn’t push me away.
And as I looked up into those shimmering blue eyes, I couldn’t stop myself from asking the question that had been plaguing me ever since I found out the truth. “If you knew I was out there… why didn’t you come find me sooner?”