Chapter 17
Dominic parked down the street to watch Austin’s gates.
A metal bucket of rose petals sat in the passenger seat. Not very subtle, but Dominic was tired of playing it safe. He’d been holding himself back from Austin, even after they finally started sleeping together. Time to go all-in.
And never, ever tell Ben about the rose petals. Ben wouldn’t let him live it down in a thousand years. He was still teasing Dominic about the collar: a classy black band with a simple O-chain, currently resting in a velvet box next to the roses.
Dominic ran his fingers over the soft material of the box. He couldn’t wait to see Austin’s face when he opened it.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out distractedly, his mind still running over what he was going to say. Then he saw the email.
Your contract with Austin Wayne has been terminated, read the subject line.
Dominic frowned and clicked the email. It definitely looked real. He skimmed over the message text: Effective immediately… severance pay package… provide a reference on request…
“What the fuck?” Dominic asked.
He looked up at the gates. Still closed, no sign of Austin leaving yet. That was good; Dominic needed a word.
He pulled into Austin’s wide driveway just in time to see him stalk out of the house. His hair was wet, which was strange. He usually blow-dried it if he had something important on, and a line read definitely counted.
Dominic climbed out of the car. “Hey, I just got an email—”
Austin cut him off. “Then why did you show up? Even if you were still working for me, you shouldn’t be here. You’re not on shift.”
His shoulders were tense, his head down as he made for the car. But it was his eyes that really worried Dominic. They were flat and empty. It was an eerily familiar look.
He was playing a role, Dominic realized. This was what his characters looked like as they walked away, covered in blood. If this was a movie, he would be limping, bloodstained, walking wounded away from an explosion shot that would inevitably make it into the trailer.
Dominic stepped in front of him. “Austin. Tell me what happened.”
“Nothing to tell,” Austin gritted. “Get out of my way.”
He tried to shoulder past him. Dominic caught him easily, yanking him to a halt.
“Austin,” he tried.
“Don’t,” Austin snapped. He moved for the car again. Dominic’s hand tightened on his arm, and Austin glared at him.
“Don’t make me call security,” he warned.
“You think Brent can take me on?”
“I think you need to fuck off,” Austin said. “That’s an order. Just because you got off on making me call you ‘sir’ doesn’t mean you were ever in charge.”
Dominic stared at him, reeling. “Austin, what the hell happened? I thought we were good. I thought we were great.”
“Sure you did,” Austin said flatly. “Don’t bother, man. They have you on video.”
“What?”
Austin shoved at him again. This time Dominic let him go, reeling. Who caught him on video? What the hell could he possibly have said or done to piss Austin off this much?
Austin stalked toward the car, head down, hands jammed in his pockets. He was walking for the driver's seat, Dominic noticed. He only drove himself when he needed to get out of his head.
Dominic twisted desperately to look at his own car parked beside them. Rose petals and a collar in the passenger seat. How could things fall apart so damn fast?
“Austin,” he called.
Austin didn’t reply. He didn’t even throw up a middle finger like Dominic expected. He just paused, his gaze trained over Dominic’s shoulder. Then he pointed.
“Get that shithead off my property,” he said. “Call it your one last hurrah as my bodyguard.”
Dominic turned. There was a man with a camera around his neck and twigs in his hair staring at them, frozen. He had obviously been trying to make it to the fence.
They have you on video, Austin had said.
Dominic took off. The man—whose name was Larry Gilroy, a thirty-something paparazzo who wrote How To articles on the side to make rent—started sprinting for the fence. It was no use. Dominic was big, but he was fast.
Dominic tackled him into the impeccably trimmed lawn. Larry grunted, all the breath whooshing out of him.
“Larry,” Dominic spat, kneeling on his back and holding Larry’s head against the grass. “You remember what I said I’d do to you if I caught you here again?”
“Please don’t,” Larry wheezed, curling protectively around his camera. The lens cover had flown off, but otherwise it looked undamaged. That wouldn’t last long.
“Heard somebody filmed me saying something incriminating,” Dominic said. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Larry?”
“Nope,” Larry said shakily.
Behind them, Austin’s car whirred to life and skidded down the driveway, throwing up gravel. Dominic turned to watch it speed off toward the gate.
He would fix this. He had to. Whatever Austin thought he knew, he’d figure it out and get it all straightened out. The rose petal shit could just be an apology. Or an explanation. Or making the best of a shitty night.
Larry whimpered. Dominic looked back down and realized his hand had tightened around Larry’s head, pressing him harder into the grass.
Dominic reluctantly eased up. “What’s this crap I hear about a video? What video?”
“Wait, you haven’t seen it?” Larry said, incredulous. “Seriously? It’s been blowing up every celeb site for hours!”
Dominic knelt harder on Larry’s spine.
“Ow! Shit!” Larry writhed under him, his arms twitching around the camera he was clutching. “It’s a balcony shot! Yesterday morning, in your boxers! You were talking about breaking up with Austin!”
“What was that?” Dominic knelt even harder.
“I mean Mr. Wayne,” Larry said, strained. “Ow! Fuck, you gotta get off me, I’m still recovering from that slipped disc, remember?”
Dominic did remember. He also remembered that Larry was the one who snapped photos of Austin crying after his dad had a heart attack.
Those photos never made it to print. Dominic had taken care of that, crushing Larry’s camera under his boot and letting him know that if he ever stepped foot on these grounds again, Dominic would do much worse.
“I never talked about breaking up with Austin,” Dominic said.
“You did,” Larry said, strained. “At least that’s what it sounded like. Read between the lines—oh, shit. Is that the crazy glass lady?”
Dominic frowned. “What?”
Larry’s eyes went wide. He started struggling. Not to get away, interestingly. Instead, he looked like he was trying to get further under Dominic. Like he was hiding.
Stomach dropping, Dominic turned.
Gail Dain stood in the driveway where Austin’s car had been. Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks streaked with mascara. She had a new tattoo: a bright red broken heart between her collarbones, still dotted with blood from the needle.
She was pointing a gun at them. No, not at them—at Dominic. Her hand was shaking, her finger on the trigger.
There were a hundred things Dominic could have done. Ran for cover. Shielded Larry. Charged for her. Try to talk her down. But at that moment, all his training fell away.
Dominic looked for Austin. His car was almost out of the gate. So close to safety. If he just got a little further—
A deafening noise stopped that thought in its tracks.
Bang.