Chapter 13
IZZY
Dominic: I’m on my way.
Izzy: You shouldn’t be texting while driving.
Dominic: Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.
Ishake my head in disbelief. I was able to get excited about the date before he said he was on his way here and texting. Aaron hasn’t contacted me today. Grandma was able to play a game of Scrabble. Life is good. At least, better than I can reasonably expect.
Izzy: You won’t be fine! I’m not texting back until you get here.
Dominic:
His reaction to the message makes me doubt the date for a second. There’s undeniable chemistry there. The heat I feel when I’m in his presence…
But being so casual about dangerous driving is a major red flag in my book.
Dominic: You’ll break my heart. Which is quite an achievement, considering I’d been living under the assumption I didn’t HAVE a heart for a long time.
I ignore the text, looking at myself in the mirror. After drying my hair, I let it stay a little wild, a little messy, which he likes. But now I’m wondering if I went too far. I’m wearing a black dress, one I haven’t touched in two years, with black lace across my cleavage.
I stride into the living room, anxiously holding my phone in my hand.
Dominic: Are you mad at me, beautiful?
Izzy: Is that ANOTHER nickname?
Dominic: I thought you weren’t texting me back.
Izzy: I don’t think joking about reckless driving is funny. You need your full attention on the road.
A minute passes, then a video appears in the conversation.
I click it, a smile immediately claiming my lips.
It’s a selfie view. Dom is wearing a dark blue suit, his shirt open at the collar.
He raises a glass of champagne to the camera, then turns so that I can see the road moving by behind him.
He turns the camera to front-facing, presenting the inside of a limo.
Dominic: Happy now?
Izzy:
Izzy: I think you like playing games with me.
The hypocrisy is absurd—
No. Nope. I won’t go there, not tonight. We had a deal. Forget for a little while. Even if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s agreeing to.
Dominic: You need to return the favor.
Izzy: You’re not going to ask me for nudes, are you?
Dominic: No, not yet.
I find the closest mirror and adjust my hair, aiming the camera so it cuts off halfway up my torso, showing my lace-covered cleavage. I’m wearing more makeup than usual, especially around my eyes, but not much else.
Izzy: Disappointing.
I attach the image.
Dominic: Holy hell, Izzy. You look incredible.
Izzy: It’s Photoshop.
I text with self-deprecating sarcasm.
Dominic: You’re angelic.
Izzy: And you’re dangerously close to love-bombing.
Dominic: Doesn’t that rely on it all being false? I’ll be outside your apartment building in two minutes.
Izzy: I’ll come down and meet you.
I reply and put my phone in my handbag.
He’s already outside when I get downstairs, standing next to the limo with a small package in his hand. He gives it to me, our fingers brushing. I open it to find an open envelope without any writing on it.
“What’s this?” I murmur.
He looks at me almost as if he’s nervous, a boyish look in his eyes despite his strong, firm features. “Take a look,” he says. “Something a little different.”
I tip the contents into my hand. It’s a voucher for ten hours of violin practice with a well-regarded virtuoso in the city. Tears brim in my eyes. I’m starting to annoy myself with all this emotion. But can you blame me?
“This is too much,” I whisper.
“Really? I almost bought you a violin—”
“What? No! That is too much.”
He smiles, nodding. “Somehow, I knew you’d feel that way. I think this is a fair middle ground.”
“You don’t have to—”
He closes my fingers over the voucher when I attempt to give it back to him. “Take it, or burn it. Your choice.”
“You’re impossible,” I mutter, putting the voucher in my bag.
“Champagne?” he asks, opening the door to the limo.
I have to admit. I feel like a princess when he offers his hand and helps me to climb inside. When my uncle gave me this mission, I didn’t expect—No, not tonight. I won’t let him ruin this even if it’s just for tonight.
As we pull away from the curb, Dom pours a glass and raises his in a toast. “To the music of this night,” he says.
I smile as we clink flutes, warmth spreading through my belly that’s only partly because of the champagne. “I love that,” I say. “To the music…”
I take another sip, then place the flute in the glass holder.
“That gift was so thoughtful,” I murmur. “I haven’t played the violin in so long.”
“You sound like you miss it,” he says huskily. “The fervor in your voice… it’s really something.”
“I do miss it,” I agree. “But sometimes, I guess you have to grow up.”
“You’re too young to talk like that.”
“I don’t feel young.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Twenty-five is a baby in terms of your whole life.”
“You’re thirty-three. That’s not much older. What does that make you?”
He smirks self-deprecatingly. “A slightly older baby.”
I laugh, my cheeks heating up. Another sip of champagne, and it’s like the rest of the world, the high stakes, and the betrayal, really slips effortlessly into the night.
“How is your grandmother doing?” he asks, then frowns. “Sorry, I just realized that could be too heavy.”
“You’re sweet. No, it’s fine. She had one of her good days today. I swung by after work. She beat me at Scrabble. Well, I let her win, but she was so happy. The worst part about this disease is knowing there’s no cure.”
“The world can be a cruel place,” he says darkly. I know he’s thinking about his parents. “If you ever need help with her care, a second opinion, anything like that, let me know.”
“You’ve already done so much,” I whisper, but my mind is surging with possibilities.
If he’s serious about helping me, perhaps I can tell him the truth. Maybe—But what if Aaron isn’t bluffing about hurting her? Everyone has heard whispers that Aaron Pike has criminal connections.
The whispers don’t come from any one place.
It’s like they’re in the air anytime you’re near my uncle.
People give him looks; men arrive to drop off or pick up packages.
Once, I saw him in his office, meeting with two men covered in what looked like Russian tattoos.
I’m guessing it’s the reason Dom doesn’t want to deal with him.
“Are you okay?” Dom asks, gently squeezing my leg.
Even now, there’s a sharp, hot spear of lust, a reminder that any second we could stop stressing and just give in to the lust that started to burn in his office. Or maybe even the first time I laid eyes on him on the cover of a magazine.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I just want to enjoy tonight. But my mind keeps wandering.”
“To your grandmother?” he asks, squeezing my leg.
I swallow a lump of emotion, looking out the window. I don’t want to keep lying to him.
When his cell phone rings, he sighs and leans back. “I have to take this. Apologies, beautiful.”
I smile and shake my head. It’s not a problem, I tell him. And it’s the truth. It gives me some time to fix my face, my thoughts, and my heart.