Chapter 12
12
DOMINIC
It’s a slightly jarring feeling walking up to Shiloh’s house knowing this time I’m actually supposed to be here, and that she'll be fully aware of my presence. But even with that, I hesitate only half a second before rapping my knuckles against the chipped paint of her front door.
I mean, now that I’ve spent some time thinking about it, I’ve made up my mind. I don’t want to sneak around anymore. My craving has… evolved .
I want to be able to look at her, breathe her in, invade her space. After reading her journal, I’m more convinced than ever she won’t push me away. Maybe at first she’ll try, but then I know she’ll give in. She has the same craving I do.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to get it out of her.
The door swings open abruptly, revealing an already-disgruntled Shiloh. Her blonde waves are piled messily atop her head, stray tendrils framing a face etched with irritation. I take in the short black skirt, paired with an oversized T-shirt. She has no idea how hard she’s making this for me.
“Where the hell were you on Saturday?” she immediately demands, wasting no time it seems.
“Hello to you too, Shy Girl,” I drawl, stepping inside without an invitation. Her scowl deepens at the nickname, though it slipped from my lips without a second thought. Clearly, I’m going to have to be a little more appeasing if we’re going to get through this without her trying to stab me.
“I had some urgent business to take care of. Besides, it didn’t sound like a task you’d struggle to get through alone.”
The words come out slightly more mocking than I’d intended, but they have the desired effect of halting her interrogation. A twinge of regret tugs at my gut seeing her face fall slightly. The Shiloh I once knew hated to be thought of as incapable.
“Let’s get this moving, shall we?” I say, making my way through to the living room. I shrug off my overcoat and drape it over the back of the couch, noting once again that Shiloh’s attention appears fixed on my gloves–just like at the coffee house. She stares at them, a little crease forming between her brows, as if they unnerve her in some way.
That will be fun to play with.
“Tell me about whatever plans you have so far. Décor ideas? Themed cocktails? I assume you’ve thought of something more compelling than just ‘spooky’ and ‘orange’.”
She rolls her eyes, snapping out of whatever trance she was in while staring at the gloves I’m now peeling off. “I’m not entirely sure where I’m going with it yet,” she mumbles, gesturing vaguely towards the papers spread across the coffee table. “I’ve been researching local legends, looking for something we might be able to incorporate into the masquerade theme. Melanie shot down my idea to celebrate Avalon’s history and lore, but I might be able to weave some of it into her stupid theme anyway.”
“Not bad,” I admit, picking up a rough sketch of what looks like masked figures dancing around a bonfire, “though I think pyrotechnics might be off the table.”
Shiloh’s shoulders visibly relax as she huffs a low chuckle, snatching the paper out of my hand. I settle myself into the nearest armchair, waiting until she sinks into the couch to continue our discussion. It doesn’t escape my notice that she chooses the end furthest away from me.
“You look like you haven’t slept in days,” I murmur, the words falling from my lips before I can stop them. I hadn’t intended to make the observation out loud, but my attention was held hostage by the dark circles marring the pale skin under her eyes.
Shiloh scoffs, shooting me a look that tells me she didn’t find my comment particularly flattering. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.” I find myself holding my breath as she runs her hand through her disheveled hair.
Focus.
I clear my throat. “Please don’t tell me, you’ve run out of ideas to get teenagers interested in Shakespeare.”
She barely reacts, her expression unmoving. “You’re hilarious.”
“I try.” I can’t contain the smirk that lifts one corner of my mouth, this rare moment of levity being something I could get used to. “Seriously, what’s eating you? You seem…on edge. More than usual, I mean.”
I watch her carefully, half-expecting this to be the moment she accuses me of breaking in. But the next words out of her mouth catch me completely off guard.
“I think…” she starts and then trails off, chewing on her lower lip in a way that has me hungry to feel it between my own teeth. “I think one of my students might be stalking me.”
For a second, I’m certain I misheard. “The fuck are you talking about?”
Shiloh shifts uncomfortably in her seat, pointedly avoiding my gaze. “I know, I know. It sounds crazy, but weird things have been happening. I keep finding my stuff in places I didn’t leave them in and had to start locking my door at night. Then the other day at Fairchild Manor, during the tour you so graciously left me to do alone, someone chased me out of the house. My students think there’s some prankster dressing up in a black cloak and scaring people. Maybe the culprit is breaking into other houses too… I don’t know.”
She drops her head into her hands and rubs at her eyes, as if she might dispel the anxiety like a bad dream. I don’t respond immediately, silently outraged that some other faceless threat is occupying her thoughts. I don’t like to share.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I eventually say, waving my hand dismissively. “You know what teenagers are like, they do dumb shit. I doubt any of them would be brave enough to actually break into your house, though.”
“You’re probably right,” she sighs. “Maybe the stress of this whole Halloween Ball business is getting to me. I know you don’t care and this is just some joke to you…” Shiloh pauses, sighing. “But I really don’t want to screw it up.”
I struggle not to roll my eyes at her, determined to avoid another verbal knife fight. “Well, now that my name’s on it, it has to go well. I refuse to let you embarrass me, so these ideas of yours had better pan out.”
To my surprise, she chuckles again, a nervous titter that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “So glad to have you on side, Dom,” she says wryly. Something in my chest clenches at the nickname. No one has called me Dom in eleven years. At least, any time some random hookup has made that attempt at familiarity I’ve shut it down.
“Any time, Shy. Now, how about you be a gracious hostess and offer me a drink? Party planning is thirsty work.” I make sure to infuse enough humor in my tone so that she doesn’t immediately lose her temper. It seems to work.
“Sure, I guess. Is Merlot okay? I’m pretty sure that’s all I have.”
I nod once and she ambles off to the kitchen. Her hands are shaking slightly when she comes back in with two overly full glasses, the dark liquid sloshing perilously close to the rim.
“The fuck, Shiloh. Do you have a drinking problem I should be aware of?”
“What? N-no!” she stutters, dumping my drink onto the coffee table in front of me instead of putting it straight into my hand. “I’ve just had a stressful week, okay?”
“It’s Tuesday,” I deadpan.
This time she really laughs, a bubbly, melodic sound that’s more intoxicating than any alcohol. My eyebrows shoot up almost into my hairline when she plops herself back down onto the couch, this time at the end nearest me. I try not to focus too hard on the scant inches left between our knees.
“You know…” She takes a deep breath, and then meets my gaze head on. “Do you really have to torture me all the time? How long are you sticking around for anyway? In town, I mean.” I can tell she’s trying hard to keep her tone casual, but there’s an obvious anxiety in the tightness around her eyes and the set of her shoulders.
The urge to see her submit to me hits me in a fresh wave of heat. I want to see her defeated, succumbing to her own desire to have me near. I know she hasn’t forgotten.
“Always so eager to get rid of me, damn,” I taunt her. “Anyone could think it was you trying to torture me. ”
She scoffs again. “Actually, I was just thinking that it’s kinda nice to no longer be the lone wolf of the family. With you here, dad and Viv might remember that I’m the one they prefer having around.”
I can’t help but raise an eyebrow at her strange choice of words. “I wouldn’t call you a lone wolf. More like a black sheep.” Innocent. Helpless. Sometimes pathetic.
“Whatever.” She knocks her fist against my shoulder, the unexpected contact leaving goosebumps beneath my shirt. “I just meant, it’s nice to feel like I’m not the only outsider in this weird, disconnected family we’re both part of.”
Her confession hits me straight in the gut, stirring up that guilt I would much rather keep buried. I take a long sip of wine. It’s not pleasant, and is definitely cheap, but it’s a welcome opportunity to compose a response.
“What do you mean?” I press, curiosity getting the better of me.
She goes back to avoiding eye contact, swirling her wine in her glass as she stares into it like some magic mirror that holds all the answers. “It’s just… I moved back here after college so that I could stay close to them all, to try and be a big sister to the little ones. Yet, it feels like each year they all drift further away. Like I’m not…not needed. You’re lucky your dad wants you by his side at the company, Viv and mine couldn’t care less about me. I live close, but they don’t check on me for weeks. ”
Now it’s my turn to scoff. “Trust me Shy, there’s nothing lucky about being close to my father.” The bitterness in my tone obviously surprises her, though it’s a taste I’ve long been familiar with.
“What was it like?” she asks softly. If I’m not mistaken, genuine concern shines in those icy blue eyes. “We never heard from you after you left. I just assumed you were having the time of your life, happy to be rid of this place.”
“I was nothing but a necessity to him–his sole heir. He wanted me to be successful, but if I was, it threatened his ego. Every accomplishment was met with criticism instead of praise. I was just another ‘failed investment,’ as he liked to put it.” Never mind the brass knuckles he used as enforcement. She doesn’t need to know about that.
Shiloh winces. “That sounds awful. I’m sorry you had to grow up that way.”
I shrug, not entirely unhappy with the weirdly vulnerable direction this conversation has taken. “It made me who I am today. And when I take over the company, I’ll propel us all forward beyond even his wildest dreams. I hope the sudden realization of his own inferiority gives him a heart attack.”
“I believe it,” she chuckles. “If anyone can do it, you can.”
“If I’m not mistaken, that almost sounded like a compliment.”
“I guess it was.” Shiloh frowns, as if she’s just as stunned by the revelation as I am. “I just, um…” She leans forward slightly, her glass clenched in both hands. “I’m tired of the fighting, Dom. We’re not kids anymore. We could be… friends , maybe. Don’t you want that?”
She lends weight to the question by reaching out a hand and laying it on my knee. The touch is light, barely there, but it sends a jolt through me like I’ve been struck by lightning. I look down at that hand, then up at her face. Her eyes are wide, staring down at where she’s made contact as if she can’t quite believe she’s the master of her own body.
“Shiloh,” I murmur, placing my fingers under her chin and pushing it up until she looks at me. The quiet gasp she lets slip is my undoing. Before I can think better of it, I close the distance between us and capture her plump lips with mine.