9. Dominic
Three hours later, I stood outside the front doors of the massage school, not far from Foggy Bottom Metro station. Cars zipped by, splashing through puddles left by the morning rain, while pedestrians navigated the crowded sidewalks.
The school took up a narrow, three-story brick building wedged between a nail salon and a coffee shop. Visible through the large front windows, a reception desk and several closed doors led to private massage rooms.
My heart thrummed in anticipation. When was the last time I’d felt this nervous about asking a woman on a date? Years, at least, if ever. Getting women had never been a problem—my charm, good looks, and reputation usually did all the work.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I opened the door and stepped into the lobby. Immediately, the scent of lavender and eucalyptus curled around me, soothing my heightened senses. Soft instrumental music played in the background and created a serene atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the chaos outside.
I approached the reception desk, smiling as the young blonde woman sitting behind it looked up. “Good afternoon. I’m here to see Marissa Johnson.”
Taking in the flowers I held, her eyes widened. “Marissa? Sure. Just a moment.” She picked up the phone and dialed a number. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink as she snuck a glance at me again. “Hey, you have a visitor.”
Knowing Marissa would be there that day because I’d called ahead to ask, I arrived with a bouquet of red roses and had dressed in a pair of expensive yet comfortable dark jeans and a button-down shirt. I had considered asking her out to dinner over the phone, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized asking her in person would be better.
She wouldn’t be able to resist my charm so easily, and my presence would show my sincerity.
A moment later, a petite yet curvy young woman with red hair and bright blue eyes entered the lobby from within the school. There was something familiar about her face and the way she moved, though I was sure I’d never seen her before.
Even though they weren’t medical professionals, every student wore a matching set of scrubs with the school’s logo embroidered on the front, just as Marissa had done the day before. The new woman took one glance at me and her jaw went slack.
I flashed one of my best smiles, knowing how devastating it could be. Maybe winning Marissa’s peers over would work in my favor.
Snapping her mouth shut, the woman glanced at the receptionist, who nodded at me. Confusion made my smile falter as the red-headed woman approached me. Her lips transformed into a gorgeous smile.
“May I help you?” Her voice was light and lyrical, the opposite of Marissa’s more sultry timbre.
“No, thank you,” I said. “I’m waiting for someone.”
Her smile twisted into a cute smirk. “Me, I presume. I’m Marissa Johnson. You asked to see me?”
Now it was my turn for my mouth to go slack. There must have been a mistake. “You’re Marissa?”
She took a step closer and touched my arm. “Don’t look so disappointed, Mr…?”
Despite my confusion, I recovered quickly. “Sato. Dominic Sato.”
Her blue eyes flew open wide, and she glanced at the receptionist, who was pretending not to eavesdrop.
Poorly, I noted.
The red-haired woman claiming to be Marissa waved me farther away from the desk, her cheeks turning almost the same shade as her hair. “Please don’t be upset, Mr. Sato. I can explain.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I’m more confused than anything.”
She took a deep breath. “My sister is the one who gave you your massage yesterday. I was caught out in Virginia and wouldn’t make it back in time for your appointment. You know how D.C. traffic is.” She waved her hand toward the door leading out. “Bree’s always been quick to pick up new skills, and she owed me.”
Bree.
The name washed over me with a soothing sensation, like finding solace on land after being lost at sea. I replayed the massage in my head, remembering how I’d wondered just how new she’d been.
So new, it turned out, she didn’t go to this school.
As I studied the real Marissa’s face, the family resemblance was unmistakable. Her hair was more red than Bree’s and her eyes more blue than seafoam, but full lips and a slight dimple in her chin matched Bree’s exactly. Not to mention skin so white it was almost translucent.
“I’d be more than happy to schedule a make-up appointment, on the house.” She pressed her hands together in a plea. “Just please keep this between us.” Her gaze dipped to the bouquet I held, and she smiled. “Are those for me?”
I huffed out a laugh. “Yes and no.”
“I’d apologize,” her smile morphed into a cunning look, “but it seems like the massage went well?”
“Very well. Where can I find Bree?” Saying her name aloud stiffened my cock to half-mast.
Marissa narrowed her eyes, her smile gone. “How do I know you’re not a killer?”
Well, that was a tricky question. I was a killer. “I’m not going to kill your sister.”
“That’s what a killer would say.” She crossed her arms.
“Are you always this stubborn?”
“Do you always bring your masseuse flowers?”
I stared at this tiny creature who showed no fear of talking to me this way. Her sister was either extremely fortunate or extremely unlucky. I had a feeling it was both.
She relaxed her arms. “I’m a little protective, you know?”
“No judgment. I would like to ask your sister out to dinner.” I raised the bouquet and winked. “In person, preferably.”
Marissa’s smile returned. “Just promise you’re not going to kill her. Or stalk her, Or maim her. Or?—”
“I won’t do anything she doesn’t want me to do.”
Unless she begs me to,I thought, stifling a groan as I imagined an intimate scenario involving handcuffs.
She nodded, satisfied. “She’s at Subliminal.”
Confusion laced my thoughts again. “The gym? She trains there?”
“Oh gods, no. She’s… Well, you’ll see.” She glanced down at her watch. “I gotta get back before they come looking for me. Good luck!”
Twirling on her toes, Marissa was gone before I had a chance to process the last part of our conversation.
I would see?
What the hell did that mean?
I staredat the door leading into the gym where I’d spent over a decade spilling my blood, sweat, and tears until I was the best. Dread churned in my stomach like undigested rotten food.
This was the last place I wanted to come back to, and if I had my way with the family empire, I never would again. Not to fight, at any rate.
The gym sat between two other buildings on a busy downtown street near Judiciary Square. To non-Gifted humans, it was a nondescript building that drew little notice. They ignored it as they passed, even if someone were to open the door right in front of them. The non-Gifted would simply sidestep around the door and keep going their merry way.
In addition to using her fae magic, Frankie Delgado had paid a small fortune to the Sato family for a camouflaging charm they’d procured. Both magics had done their job well, disguising the building for over twenty-five years.
Luckily for Frankie, the charm would continue to work forever so long as the stone stayed intact, which is one reason why no one had seen it since. I wouldn’t have put it past her to bury the damn thing in the foundation.
The Gifted Interests Government had tried for years to infiltrate the gym during a fight night, intending to shut it down for good. But Frankie must have gotten her grubby fae hands on another charm that kept them away as well. That, or she had someone on the inside, which was the more likely scenario.
No one knew exactly how she’d evaded the agents for so long, but the Gifted who frequented the fights continued to line their pockets while her luck—or magic—held firm. However, it would take far more than any charms she could procure to keep someone as powerful as me out.
I took a deep breath and pulled open the door, stepping inside. As my eyes adjusted to the dimmer interior, a soft humming drifted from the opposite side of the main ring. I was about to announce my presence when the most beautiful sound in the world stopped me in my tracks.
A woman’s voice, sweeter than any angel’s, belted out an old jazz tune I hadn’t heard in years. It was a classic by Ella Fitzgerald, and I was utterly captivated.
“It looks as if we two will never be one…”
Entranced, I stepped forward. I had to know who was singing, who ensnared me with such a magnificent sound. As I moved around the boxing ring, I slowed, drinking in the sight of the woman who appeared. My heart beat faster.
It was her—Bree.
She held a mop in both hands and swept it over the cement floor in time with the song’s tune. Her moves were beautiful and elegant, a dance of pure joy.
“Something must be done…”
Cute but worn running shorts and a matching sports bra did little to cover her toned body. She was barefoot, and a ponytail held most of her hair back from her face, all except the unruliest of them all.
Bree paused to lift the mop into the bucket, then pushed some escaped strands of hair behind her ear. Her gaze lifted to mine, and she gasped.