Chapter 18
DOMINIC
It’s the end of the working day—well, for those lucky enough not to be weighed down with tons of West Coast paperwork— when a knock comes at my door.
When I call come in and Izzy enters, I rush to the door and close it behind her so we can be alone.
This is the second time I’ve seen her at work today, and the only chance we’ve had to be alone.
“I just wanted to let you know I’m heading home,” she murmurs.
“You don’t have to ask for permission.”
“I’m not. I just—” Her shoulders slump. “Just wanted to see you.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her against me, feeling my heart and my body respond immediately.
She sighs and wraps her arms tightly around me. She presses her face against my chest like she’s going to cry.
“Izzy, what is it?” I ask.
She looks up at me, her eyes dry, but with sadness in them, nonetheless. “We do have a connection.”
“You don’t have to say that like you’re trying to convince me. I already know that.”
“I care about you,” she says.
I smile, leaning down and kissing her on the lips.
“I care about you too,” I say, keeping my lips against hers. I brush her hair behind her ears, revealing the music note earrings. “A lot, honestly. Maybe more than I should, considering how long it’s been.”
“And half our conversations have been through text,” she says, smiling.
I smirk and kiss her again. “Texting you is easier than talking to any other woman has ever been for me. I know I wasn’t fully honest—”
“Don’t.” She pushes her hand firmly against my chest. “You didn’t even have to tell me. It’s none of my business. That sort of thing? That’s family stuff that comes in weeks, months, not days.”
“It’s been weeks,” I say. Her tone is troubling me for a reason I can’t pinpoint.
“Not weeks of… us. A couple of weeks of knowing each other, but not this.”
I cradle her face in both my hands. “Don’t devalue it. That’s an order.”
She smiles with a hint of danger. I love it when she looks like this, like she knows this is crazy but wouldn’t stop for any reason. “Sorry, sir.”
I slip my hands down toward her ass.
Then my phone rings from the desk.
“California?” She asks.
I nod. “Just the usual logistics. Plus, there are a few politicians whose asses I need to kiss. I’m going to be a few more hours. I’ll text you when I’m done, see if you’re awake, maybe swing by.”
She takes a step back, nodding, but it’s too fast, manic almost. Something has gotten into her.
“See you soon,” she says, turning away and almost running from my office.
I take the call on the landline, putting my cell phone on my desk. During pauses in the conversation, I type out a message.
Dominic: You’ve got a lot going on right now, Songbird, so many things to worry about. I hope I’m lightening your load, not making it heavier. If something’s wrong, just know, you can always tell me, no matter what it is. I’d prefer an ugly truth to a beautiful lie, always.
She doesn’t reply for an hour. When her message comes, a dark feeling tightens in my gut. I’m not even sure why. Her message, on the surface, is sweet. But it leaves me with a strange sense of foreboding.
Izzy: I’ve loved our time together, Dom. Just being together, without even saying anything, has been great. Last night was the best date I’ve ever been on. And this morning, with Grandma, you were so amazing. And so honest, with the other thing. You’re an amazing person. I care about you.
I’m about to text her back when Ethan knocks on my door.
“Yeah?”
He strolls in, forehead furrowed in concern. “A man named Sebastian Goodfellow is here to see you. He wouldn’t give a reason, just said you’d want to see him. Between you and me, I didn’t like his tone.”
I swallow a ball of tension. Sebastian goddamn Goodfellow, the man who bankrupted my family, who was like an uncle to me before he revealed his true evil side.
“Send him up,” I practically growl, walking to the window.
“Uh, okay,” Ethan mutters, clearly sensing my dark mood, but knowing better than to question it.
I haven’t seen Sebastian in years, since before my father died. He vanished off the face of the earth after stealing my family's fortune.
Uncle Seb walks into my office like he owns it. He’s a tall man, bald, head dotted here and there with liver spots. He leans on a cane with a silver pommel carved into a wolf’s head. His suit is immaculate, pin-striped, and tailored to his firm build.
“Beautiful offices,” he mutters, tapping his cane on the floor. “Not quite what I would’ve chosen, little man, but beautiful nonetheless.”
Little man. That was what he called me when he first entered our life, before he ruined it, before he killed my mother and father without laying a finger on them.
“May I sit?” he asks.
I keep my face neutral as I walk to my side of the desk, then gesture at him. “Go ahead, Goodfellow.”
He smirks at the emphasis, then takes a seat, resting his cane against my desk.
“I understand your frustration,” he says.
I shrug. “Frustration? There’s nothing like losing your inheritance to a two-faced snake to give a man the motivation required to make even more money.”
He inclines his head. “I must admit, little man, you’ve done exceedingly well for yourself, especially when you consider, as you say, where you started. It must’ve been very difficult to put it all behind you and focus on your work.”
I never put it behind me, but I’m not going to tell him that. He clearly wants a rise from me, hence the little man stuff.
“Hmm,” I mutter, shrugging.
“You’ve become the strong, silent type in your old age, then?” he says, reaching into his inside jacket pocket and placing an envelope on the table.
“Is this the part when I ask what that is?” I grunt.
“I thought you’d be curious,” he says.
I grind my teeth. “Just spit it out, old man.”
He laughs, delighted at my outburst. I curl my hands into fists, promising myself it won’t happen again, hoping it’s true.
“Your bloodline—”
“My bloodline?” I cut in. “How medieval of you.”
“It’s sick,” he goes on, shrugging. “It’s twisted. None of you deserves to be happy. Not your father, nor your mother. And definitely not you.”
“I think you’re forgetting who bankrupted whom,” I snap. “We weren’t the ones who infiltrated your family and stole your business.”
“That was business,” Sebastian hisses. “But what came after? That was just downright ugly.”
“Why haven’t I been able to find you?” I say. “I’ve hired private investigators in the past.”
“Goodfellow,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows. “If you haven’t worked it out by now—”
“It’s a false name,” I interrupt.
“Ten points to the little man,” he goads, drumming his fingers against the envelope.
“I had to use different names back in the day. I was still building my empire, you see. But I struck it big. I am now a proud—silent—shareholder in the megacorporation which owns a little outfit called Pike Construction… among other interests.”
My head spins. “You own Wonder Worldwide?”
His smug grin is infuriating. He wriggles his eyebrows like a proud little prick.
“I’m sixty-seven years old, and I’ve spent my entire life working hard so that I’d have enough capital for a serious investment, and it seems that fate was on my side when I chose this company. I couldn’t have planned any of this.”
“Any of what?” I say, my patience wearing thin, my head spinning with a thousand things I want to do, most of which involve hurting the old bastard. Physically. Emotionally. Financially. However, I can.
“The connection,” he says proudly. “To you. To this goliath you’ve built. I never would’ve guessed or dreamt that we’d be like this.” He raises his hand, showing me his intertwined fingers. “What about you, little man?”
My temples are pulsing viciously. Knowing Goodfellow—or whatever the prick’s name is—he’s probably got people waiting outside just in case I do what I want. Or he’s secretly recording this. He must have some way to ensure I don’t tear his head off.
“Okay, so you’re pulling Aaron Pike’s puppet strings,” I snarl. “Big deal. What do you want, then, a pat on the back? Do you want me to congratulate you?”
“I want you to open this,” he grunts, picking up the envelope and tossing it at me.
I catch it midair, glaring at him. He clearly intended the envelope to hit me. I open it. I have to know what’s inside, even if it means playing his fucked-up game. He’s bouncing on the spot with anticipation, drumming his fingers against the desk like he’s wild with glee.
When I tip the contents out, I immediately know what they are. My entire world turns dark and bleak. Or perhaps it’s just returning to normal.
There they are… the fake accounts I put on the memory drive, Izzy’s memory drive, the test I gave her that first day because I’m a paranoid man. I always wondered if the plan would ever reveal a traitor. I never expected it to be the only woman I—
No, can’t think like that now. I’ve already lost my head once.
You should have remembered my warning, my father’s voice snaps in my mind.
“You see your problem,” Sebastian says.
“I see it,” I agree.
“You must realize how bad this is for you. The Good Samaritan, always so keen on stealing our business so he can give prime real estate to junkies and single moms and, well, more junkies. What if the public learned how creative you are with your money? Don’t just think of Uncle Sam, little man—”
I jump to my feet, slam my fist on the table, and loom over him with my temples pulsing and my heart squeezing my chest tightly. There’s so much hate in my heart, so much ferocity.
He smiles, pleased at my response.
She betrayed me. After everything. She stabbed me in the back.
She’s been playing you this whole time, my trusty distrust informs me. She never wanted you.
“Why?” I snap.
“It’s business,” he replies.
“It’s more than that. Look at your face. You look happier than my father ever was in his entire life.”
He shrugs, giddy, eyes gleaming with victory. “You belong to us now. That’s all you need to worry about.” He makes a tsk noise. “Though, I must say, I’m a little shocked. Your rival’s sister, and still, you let her under your skin. She must’ve given one hell of a blo—”
“Enough,” I say coldly. He closes his mouth, fear replacing the glee. “You’ve got some leverage…” I’ll let him believe those files are real until I decide how to handle this. “But if you insult her, or make any distasteful comments like that, I’ll kill you.”
I see it on his face. The desire to hope I’m bluffing.
And I probably am. I’m not a killer. I’ve tried for so many years to be a good person. But hearing him talk like that about her would break me. And then I’d have to break him.
“You’re mine, little man,” Sebastian says, grabbing his cane and rising to his feet. “When I say jump, you jump. Or these documents will be all over the news, not to mention mailed to every IRS office in the nation. Have I made myself clear?”
I grind my teeth, picturing Izzy looking at me with her bright, love-filled eyes during our date. But no, they were never love-filled. I only saw what she wanted me to see. This whole time, I’ve been a sucker. Just like with Uncle Seb when I was a kid, just like my father.
“I understand,” I snarl.
Once Sebastian has left, I grab my desk and flip it over.