Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
dom
One o’clock in the morning, and I’m still awake.
My work has long since finished. Staying late at the office isn’t something abnormal.
What is, is me standing out on the balcony of my penthouse and not feeling a sense of relief.
Usually, the sprawling view, glowing skyline, and hearing the traffic below allow me to unwind.
Tonight, or this morning rather, it isn’t doing dick in that regard.
I needed a distraction, one that wouldn’t have me bothering a woman this late at night.
She needs rest, like the rest of the people who seem to be fast asleep in what’s usually a busy city.
I pace the length of the patio, bare feet whispering softly against the polished marble.
A glass sits forgotten on the kitchen island, the ice long since melted into amber swirls.
By my calculations and the time on my watch, her shift at the hospital ended earlier.
I accounted for charting, the sign-out process, and the quiet rain-slicked drive or walk back to her place.
Earlier today, I’d found Alex at her desk.
Vik was in a meeting, and I asked questions.
I’d used every ounce of my boardroom intimidation to get the woman to give me the details I need.
Instead, she leaned across her desk, narrowed her eyes, and gave me a low, lethal-laced speech that would have made a lesser man break into a cold swear.
She then proceeded to say, ‘If you hurt her, Dom Mercer, nobody will ever find your body. I know anatomy and I know exactly how to make a man disappear into Puget Sound. Do we understand each other?’
I gave her a firm, respectful nod of agreement and stated I’d never knowingly hurt her.
I didn’t tell her that my intentions were to get the woman who has my dick in knots and also marry her.
Alex let the metaphorical floodgates open.
Clearly, she loves her friend, and while she didn’t elaborate her reasoning, she handed me the details I needed.
I took notes, committing every single detail to memory.
Cory’s favorite food is Mexican, tacos in particular—chicken, beef, shrimp, it doesn’t matter.
She’s borderline obsessed with copious amounts of salsa, guacamole, queso, and chips.
Favorite flowers are tulips, as Alex would put it in a way, as if saying are you serious for the reason we live in Washington, and Skagit Valley is practically in our backyard.
I got the hint, no stiff, formal roses or bouquets for her.
Drinks come in the form of lemon water by day, dealer’s choice by night.
She’s not particular when it comes to unwinding with wine, a mixed drink, or beer.
Her sacred time, when she’s off work for a bit of a stretch, is for hitting outdoor markers, walking the steep Seattle streets until her feet ache, surrounding herself with her friends, or taking the long drive to visit her mom.
All in all, she loves the simple, grounded things: fresh air, local vendors, melting cheese, and people who love her.
And here I am, a man who specializes in the complex, sterile, and expensive.
A terrifying, addictive contrast, especially when I’m the one who wants to drag her into my world of high-rises and velvet ropes.
More than that, I want her to drag me into hers.
The last bit of information Alex gave me was when she’d be getting off for the day, and now I know she’s been home for nearly forty-five minutes.
I stop my pacing, pull out my phone, and stare at her contact name.
The right thing to do would be to wait until morning, maybe call her instead of text, yet here I fucking am.
I go for it. What’s the worst she can do? Block me? I don’t see that happening.
Dom: I have a proposition for you.
My thumb traces the edge of the phone. The three little ellipsis appears almost instantly. She’s awake and answering. My chest tightens with a sudden surge of adrenaline.
Cory: Do I know you?
I let out a bark of laughter at her response. I didn’t think about that when we exchanged numbers. Now I’m standing here like a literal dumbass
Cory: I’m just kidding. I know it’s you, Dom. Alex gave me the heads-up that you’d be calling or texting when I got off shift. Making you sweat is an added bonus.
The sweating I want to do is entirely different, one where she’s naked, as am I, and we’re right here, out in the open, my mouth on hers, her hands gripping my hair, and those long shapely legs of hers wrapped around me. Christ, my cock throbs beneath my pants at the thought of making it come true.
Dom: Christ, sweetheart. You have no idea.
Cory: Oh, really?
Dom: Really.
Cory: Back to this proposition… It sounds ominous. Should I call a lawyer or a priest?
I lean my hip against the pillar, typing with one hand while my eyes track the lights bouncing off the other buildings.
Dom: Neither. Only your full attention, but I can wait until after you’ve had your midnight snack.
I didn’t mention Alex told me Cory has a penchant for late snacks, especially after a night shift.
There’s a much longer pause this time. She’s probably sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, a blanket wrapped around her with her damp hair piled on top of her head. Cory’s beautiful eyes are probably narrowing as she calculates how I knew
Cory: Clearly, my best friend has been talking. The loudmouth. I’m going to kill her. Slowly.
Dom: I’ve contemplated doing similar a few times recently. I’m pretty sure silver bracelets for life aren’t the latest fashion statement. Plus, she’s protective. I’m resourceful, and I get what I want.
Cory: Is that so? And what exactly do you want, Dom? It is, after all, past one in the morning. Shouldn’t men like yourself be asleep dreaming about mergers and counting your pennies?
The playful banter suddenly feels heavy, thick with the same electrical undercurrent that pulled at us earlier today and at the club. I run my hand through my hair, gripping the back of my neck while trying to come up with something to say.
Dom: I’m dreaming of something else. The next day you have off, I want to take you out, just you and me and an embarrassing amount of queso from the market you like.
The dots appear, only to vanish, and then appear again. This is something entirely new to me. In business, I always hold the cards, unless it comes to the stodgy board members. With Cory, I am putting my cards on the table and waiting for her to show me her hand.
Cory: You’re making it impossible to say no and easier for me to wring Alex’s neck. That being said, my bed is calling my name. I’ll use pure exhaustion in order to not give in to your charms too easily.
Dom: Are you admitting to not being tired and that you’re thinking about me?
Cory: Good night, Dom. Sleep well. Don’t let the tech stocks bite.
Dom: Dream of me, Cory.
She doesn’t reply. The lack of a rejection means I’ve got a fighting chance. If she wanted to push me away, she could have done that with a single word. Instead, she flirted, left the door open, which is all I need to wedge myself into her life.
I walk back into my penthouse, toss the phone on the counter, and make my way into the bedroom.
My hands go to my neck, ripping the silk tie down and tossing it blindly toward a chair as I continue my path.
My shirt is next, the crisp white fabric becomes tighter, and when I throw it to the side, the cool air of the apartment does nothing to calm me down.
I walk into the master bedroom, needing to relax in some sort of way.
My conscience is screaming at me, yet the need to have Cory beneath me is superseding the guilt I’m carrying.
I step out of the rest of my clothes, turn the shower head to the coldest setting before stepping in.
The icy shock to my system does nothing to my raging hard-on.
I let out a low groan, my muscles locking up against the chill, and still, the freezing water fails to calm down my blood pooling south.
I do the only thing a man can do. I wrap my hand around my cock, close my eyes, and think about the woman I want here with me.