Chapter Six
Aurelia
When we go into the restaurant, I discover that Dom’s already sitting at a table by the window, waiting.
He watches me walk over to him, and I see his gaze slide to Luke, who’s asked to meet him before he leaves us to it.
“Babe,” Dom says, rising. “It’s good to see you.”
I stiffen as he bends to kiss my cheek, sliding his hand onto my hip. I know him well enough to understand that the endearment, and the kiss, is for Luke’s benefit.
“Hi.” I clear my throat as he moves back. “Dom, this is Luke, my close protection officer. Luke, this is Dom.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Luke says, holding out his hand. His voice is slightly flat. I know they haven’t met, but he clearly already dislikes Dom. I wonder what else Marcus told him?
Dom shakes his hand, sizing Luke up. Dom’s six-two and not a tiny guy by any means, but Luke makes everyone look small.
“What are you doing with a CPO?” Dom asks me, half-amused, half-annoyed at Luke’s presence.
“Just Marcus being overenthusiastic,” I say.
“Puts a bit of a damper on the conversation when there’s a third wheel present,” Dom says.
“He won’t sit with us,” I tell him. “He just wanted to meet you, that’s all.”
“Wanted to size up the legend?” Dom asks with a grin.
“Something like that,” Luke says.
I give him an amused look. “Okay, you can leave us now.”
“Yeah,” Dom says, “good boy.”
Luke holds his gaze for a moment, and the two men glower at each other.
“Oh, good grief.” I push Luke away. “Go and have some lunch over there. I’ll pay for it.”
“I can buy my own lunch.” Luke walks off, over to a table by the window, and pulls the chair out so hard that it scrapes on the tiles.
He sits and picks up the menu, but continues to watch me as I take my seat, and Dom sits back in his.
I now have my back to Luke, but Dom glances over my shoulder at him.
Apparently the two of them are going to glare at each other throughout the meal.
I pick up my menu, trying to focus on the dishes, but I’m having trouble concentrating. I’m beginning to think this was a huge mistake.
“Don’t worry,” Dom says, pushing down my menu, “I ordered for us to save time because I know you’re busy.”
I put it down, feeling a prickle of irritation. “Lovely. What am I having?”
“Chicken pasta,” he replies, apparently missing the sarcasm in my voice. “And a glass of Sav. I hope that was okay.”
Be nice, Aurelia. He was genuinely trying to help. I decide not to say anything. The wine might help me relax anyway.
“You look nice today,” he says, leaning back. His gaze skims down me, lingering briefly on my breasts before returning to my face. Is he disappointed that the wrapover top isn’t showing my cleavage? I’m annoyed to think that’s probably the reason he liked the top all along.
“You too,” I admit. He’s wearing a navy suit, tight fitting, that looks good on him. He’s had his hair cut. He’s clean shaven. He’s a really good-looking guy.
Why am I secretly pleased that Luke is two inches taller?
“How have you been?” I ask politely.
We chat for a while about our jobs. He was promoted recently, and he spends a while explaining what his new post involves. I understand only about a third of what he’s saying as I don’t have a financial brain, but I nod and try to relax as I sip my wine.
“So,” he says eventually, “I have to say, I’m surprised you contacted me.”
My eyebrows rise. “I thought that was the purpose of sending the roses?”
His eyebrows match mine. “What roses?”
My mouth opens, but no words come out. Shit. He didn’t send them?
He looks a mixture of amused and annoyed. “Someone else sent you flowers?”
“Ah… yeah. They lost the card, and I assumed they were from you because you’d messaged me.”
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he observes me thoughtfully for a moment, leaning back in his chair, his arm hooked over the back, turning his wine glass in the fingers of his other hand.
I also lean back, puzzled. Who sent the flowers, then? I can’t think of anyone. I must have a secret admirer!
Dom’s gaze slides past me for a moment, then returns to my face. “Maybe he sent them.”
“Luke? I don’t think so.”
“Why not? He obviously has a thing about you.”
I snort. “He really doesn’t. I only met him yesterday, and I know he’s minutes away from strangling me. I’m sure you can associate with that.” I give him a sweet smile.
His lips curve up, but he’s saved from replying as our food turns up.
I pick through the pasta. It’s tasty enough, but I’m not in the mood.
“What’s up?” Dom asks.
I sigh. “I wish I hadn’t suggested this.”
“Why?”
“I’m embarrassed. I thought you sent the flowers because you wanted to see me again.”
“I should have sent them,” he says. “I wish I had. I did want to see you. I’ve been pining.”
I give him a wry look. “You have not.”
“Of course I have.” He frowns. “You were the love of my life, Aurelia. You broke my heart when you walked away.”
My stomach flips. “We both walked. I don’t remember you begging me to stay.”
He pokes listlessly at his risotto, then drops the fork and looks me in the eyes. “I was angry and frustrated. It didn’t mean I wanted it to be over.”
His light-blue eyes have flecks of orange in them that have always mesmerized me. I stare into them, remembering how I used to feel about him. Can I feel that way again?
“Have you missed me?” he asks softly.
I move the pasta around the plate. “Of course I have.”
“Missed me in your bed?”
That makes me look up at him. I don’t reply, but I do shiver, and he obviously interprets that as a pleasant memory and gives a sexy smile. “I still ring your bell, then?”
“I don’t know, Dom…” He obviously isn’t going to apologize. My spirits sink. “Nothing’s really changed, has it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the things we argued about. You talking over me. Trying to tell me what to do all the time. Wanting to control who I did and didn’t see.”
A flicker of impatience passes across his face. “You’re too nice. You don’t have the ability to say no. I just tried to help out every now and again.”
“Bullshit. You didn’t like Gracie, or some of my other friends, and you did your best to stop me from seeing them.”
“They’re leeches. They’re only interested in you because of your money.”
“No, they’re not,” I say heatedly.
“Whatever.” He looks bored and glances at his phone. I watch him read a text, and his lips curve up, just a little.
Something strikes me then. “Have you been seeing anyone else?”
He puts the phone face down on the table and looks at me. “Not seriously.”
“But you have seen other women?”
“Just one or two dates.”
“Have you… slept with any of them?”
He doesn’t reply.
“You have.” I give a short laugh. “Oh my God.”
“Jesus, Aurelia. You’re not going to give me the ‘we were on a break’ speech? You walked out. We’d broken up.”
“It’s only been a couple of months.”
“Sorry, what’s the specific amount of time that I have to remain a monk for after my girlfriend leaves me?”
My chest heaves with resentment. Technically, he’s right. We’d broken up, and I’d given him no reason to think I’d be interested in getting back together. It’s been about three months now. Why should he remain single?
But I suppose it’s his declaration that I was the love of his life, and that I broke his heart. He tried to shift the guilt onto me, and yet he was hardly pining away.
He slept with someone else. He’s been intimate with another woman. My stomach flips, and I feel a swell of nausea.
“Aw,” he says, and he reaches out and takes my hand in his. “Babe, come on. It was nothing, seriously. She wasn’t a patch on you. I loved you. I still do. I wish I had sent you those flowers. I want us to get back together.”
“Only because you miss having control of someone. I haven’t forgotten what happened that night.” I say it to see what his reaction is. Whether he looks guilty, or finally says he’s sorry.
He doesn’t say anything. He just looks vaguely amused.
I get to my feet and try to extract my hand from his grip, but he rises with me, still holding it.
“Lia, come on, don’t go. Sit down and we’ll talk about it.”
“I don’t want to talk about anything. Please let go of my hand.” I’m starting to feel emotional. I was so stupid—this was a huge mistake.
“Babe, sweetheart, don’t go…”
I blink away tears. I don’t want him to talk me into staying. He’s like my Kryptonite—I can’t resist him, and he knows it. But I don’t want to get back with him. I made the break, and even though it was hard, I’m so glad I did it. I shouldn’t have come. I’ve been such a fool. “Dom…”
“Baby, just give me another five minutes…”
I try to step around him so I can head for the exit, but he moves to block me. Frustration flares inside me. He always makes my decisions for me. “I want to leave,” I say clearly.
“You really don’t,” he says, “not yet. We haven’t finished talking.”
“I think the lady’s had enough.” It’s Luke, who’s appeared at my side.
Dom doesn’t even look at him as he says, “Fuck off. Nobody whistled for you.” He’s still holding my hand, and he squeezes it now and says, “Come on, love, sit back down.”
“I’m not your love. Let go of my hand.” My bottom lip trembles despite my fury.
Dom puts his other hand on top of mine and says, “Sweetheart…”
But that’s all he gets to say, because Luke grabs him by the lapels and propels him backward, forcing him to let go of my hand. Chairs scrape and one falls over as Luke uses his superior height and weight to throw Dom against the window, then pins him there with an arm across his throat.
“She’s not your sweetheart,” Luke says, his voice a growl. “Not anymore. Stay the fuck away from her.”
I stand there, a hand over my mouth, shocked at the speed at which he’d moved. Around us, a couple of waiters also stand and stare. Other patrons gasp in shock, and a guy who I think might be the manager walks hastily across the restaurant toward us.
“It’s okay,” I say as he nears. “We’re going. I’m sorry for the disturbance.”
“He’s paying for lunch,” Luke says to the manager, gesturing back at Dom as he walks away. Dom doesn’t protest, and the manager nods.