12. Chapter 12
Mariana
Dom and I take a few official pictures with the research crew getting the Strike's donation. We stand next to each other, smiling at the camera, and pretending we're perfectly civil colleagues. The kind that don't really look each other in the eyes, for some reason. Not that anyone notices.
No one comments when it's time for the fake data collection shoot, and I hover nearby without really interacting.
I say nothing when they ask him to take off his shirt and prepare to run wearing only his shorts.
I don't look— too much— when they're gluing stickers to his chest, from which thin cables hang and send information about his vitals to a machine.
No one pays attention to me as I take my phone out, point it at Dom, and sigh.
I finally start loosening up while he runs and runs on the treadmill. It's the fourth sprint he zooms through. This is more about aesthetics than research, so he doesn't have a mask. The concentration on his face is completely visible. Nothing blocks the sounds of his hard breathing.
I'm recording, but I'm having trouble looking at him.
I pretend disinterest. The guy wearing a blue polo and tan khakis, who holds a tablet and does his best to look smart, is an easy target for my attention.
Or the computer beeping that displays graphs and numbers in multiple colors.
Even the three guys filming with much better cameras than my phone, and their neutral faces because they're here only to do their job.
That should be my goal. Neutrality. Only here to do my job. Not here to get all hot and bothered because an attractive man is breathing like he's pushing his body to the limits, and it's making me think of how good things were for us when he pushed his body to the limits… With me.
Hard breathing. Groans. Dirty talking. Dom wasn't a quiet man in bed.
And last week, when he manhandled me in my office, I would have let him do more.
God, he was so hard. He enveloped me in that dreamy body and that incredible smell, and my body remembered too well what those signs usually meant.
It wasn't a conscious choice to grind against him.
I just needed more of that cock. So much so, I could feel myself getting slick and soaking my underwear.
And, had he not been an ass about it, I would have turned and demanded to be filled and given something to clench around.
To be in his arms again brought me back to a better time. My body remembered that too— the freedom to melt, to let myself be held, and rest in the knowledge I could let go. I could be myself. Show my underbelly, because all he would do was kiss me and tell me he had me.
Good thing he was enough of a dick that my eyes were opened. Literally and metaphorically. His words brought me back to the present and I was able to push him away. If I hadn't…
No. I don't want to think about it. I am not going to break. Seattle is a pit stop in a larger plan, and my happiness isn't in a quick romp with my ex. Unless we need one more time to get it out of our systems…
No, Mariana. No.
"Aaaand… you can stop," the guy in the polo shirt says.
I wish I could stop, too.
Dom lands with his feet on the sides of the treadmill.
It's a swift, competent move. He grabs the handle bars and hangs his head, eyes closed as he catches his breath.
Something tells me Evie would want me to get close and personal.
Record him in a close up, catching the kind of details that would make thirsty fans go wild on social media.
Sorry, Evie. No can do. I'm too thirsty to manage, and I can't ever get close enough for him to see me so fucking dehydrated.
I told him we wouldn't fuck. I told him I wouldn't ask for it. I will remain strong and prove I meant it. That's what I'm about these days. Showing I know what I'm doing, and that I'm thriving in the life I'm creating where every choice is mine.
They give him a towel. I stop recording and adjust the bag around my shoulder.
"You got any results, there?" Dom asks the university people around him. "I know I won't get the full picture, but just for fun. Make this count somehow, you know?"
"We don't have the oxygen use, as you didn't have the mask," Polo Guy replies. I forgot his name. "But I can tell you your heart looks pretty strong."
Dom glances at me. "I've heard that's what happens when you make it endure a lot."
I roll my eyes. Inside, my heart aches. I'm putting it through a lot, too.
What happened in my office was sexy because it took me to the past. It brought back memories of who Dom is underneath— who he was back then. Despite knowing better, something in me misses… could miss… who he was.
The thought doesn't fully settle in my mind when my phone rings. It's my mom. A familiar worry pit opens in my stomach. I press my bag against my ribs, walk to the side of the room, and answer.
"Hola, mamá."
"Mariana, hola." My mom's voice sounds softer than usual. "I've missed you."
I sigh. She's a good mom in so many ways, but our relationship is complicated.
She's led by example, living by the highest standards, and prioritizing us, the family, and her goals every step of the way.
And she also asks for so much, I've grown up afraid I'll make too many mistakes.
Failure wouldn't break us. We're the kind of family where nothing really could.
But criticism is still the consequence, when they're not proud of me anymore, and I haven't learned to let it slide off my back.
"Me too," I say sincerely. "How are you?"
"You first. How are things in Seattle?"
"Everything is going great. I'm settling in for the year and I'm working well with the team. All my projects are perfectly on schedule too, and you know how hard that is to achieve."
"Of course, but the Sinclair Montt family wasn't raised to be anything short of exceptional. I know you're working hard."
Between my mom's background in international diplomacy and my dad's entertainment business, they travel a lot.
It resulted in a family where my siblings and I were born in different countries, between the UK, Canada, and the US.
We grew up moving around, with different sets of kids in different countries.
In all of them, we only got our dad's last name.
It was a sore spot for Mom. In Chile, her country of birth, we would have gotten her last name as well.
When we talk to each other, we pretend we did.
I sigh. "Of course I'm working hard, Mom."
"Good. I'm glad." A small silence fills the phone for a few seconds, like she's thinking about something.
"I wondered how good things could be, having to work with an ex.
It's why you left London, I thought. To get some space away from Henry and the tabloids after everything.
And with Dominic in Seattle, playing for your employer… "
I stare at Dom. He's off the treadmill now. The towel hangs around his neck, and he holds the ends in his hands in a relaxed posture. Someone is taking the stickers off his chest, while he chats with the research people.
Dom is the one thorn in my plan for this year. A sexy thorn, but sharp. The kind you would clip off a rose, to not have to think of the risk again and enjoy all the good things at hand.
I close my eyes and turn away. "Mom. It's different."
"For sure. It's been a long time since you were together."
"Yes, it's been a long time. I thought you'd understand what I'm trying to do here— why I'm here— eventually."
"I understand. Mostly. I wondered because it seemed like such an intense young love you two had. If I were you, I would have picked a place far away from someone with whom I shared such a past."
"That's not helpful, Mom. I'm already here, and I've committed to helping the Strike for a season."
I clench my jaw. Tension tightens my stomach. A large window stands floor-to-ceiling in front of me. Trees, a few paths over a plaza, and buildings fill my retinas.
As casual as she keeps her tone, it doesn't hide the judgment threaded between the sentences. Mom is questioning my choices, and the urge to justify myself tickles in my chest.
I put an arm around myself and keep going before she can add more. "Coming to Seattle with Cora was the right decision. Things are going great. You'll see by the end of the season. Then I'll go back to England and work with Maisie the way I was always meant to."
I'll have something to be proud of. I may not be a perfect child anymore, not after Henry and the divorce.
But while my siblings have all caused my parents grief in some way, they're all professionally successful.
Achieving what I want with my career means I won't be the only Sinclair Montt family member who couldn't go far with everything given to us.
And our life's work is what matters to the family most anyway.
"For sure, Mariana. I know that's your plan."
"And you don't have to worry about Dom. Nothing will happen there. If you could see us when we share the same room, you'd see all the magic is gone. So gone."
"Actually that's why I was calling. Cam and Luke are coming to play in Seattle in a few weeks. Why don't you join us? We know the owner— I'll get us a box if you want to invite your friends."
I laugh. "You think I'm going to invite Dom to see my brothers play?"
"I said friends. If that includes Dom, well— if things are as fine as you imply, then it shouldn't matter. It's up to you."
"I know what you think about what Dom and I used to have, but nothing could be farther from my mind. We've changed. We fight a lot. Why on earth would I invite him?"
"From what I hear, he's part of the group of friends you work the closest with.
The people you've been out and about with.
Isn't that why you think I'm talking about him?
Unless you want to come to the game alone, you'll have to invite him as part of the group.
Singling him out doesn't make sense either. "
I rub my forehead with stiff fingers. Of course she's keeping track of these things. In her head, she's making sure I follow the plan so she can respond accordingly if I don't. To me, it's pressure building behind a dam filling up too fast.
Shit. Anxiety electrifies the layers under my skin. It's building up. I'm not sure how long I can keep it at bay.
"Things are over with Dom, Mom. So over. I couldn't care less about having him around or not. Do you want to see it yourself? Do I need to invite him to prove this to you?"
"I'm not a pawn, Mariana," Dom says behind me. "But if you're going to take a while, I can call a car and leave on my own. I wouldn't want to bother you."
I startle and turn. "Dom. Were you listening?"
"Say hi to your mom," he mutters, and walks away.
I swallow back a curse. "Mom. Can I call you later?"
"Of course. Good luck."
That was cheeky. I roll my eyes. Now she thinks I'm unreliable on top of everything else.
"Chat soon," I say and hang up.
Dom shakes hands with the university team and strides away. I say my goodbyes and thank yous in a rush, and run behind him.
"Dom! Wait."
I follow him through a long corridor. He turns left, I do the same just a few seconds later. I'm barely holding on to my bag, but I don't let it slow me down.
"How much did you hear?" I ask. "I can't believe you were listening."
"You weren't quiet as I approached. What did you expect? That I would cover my ears?"
"Was I… very loud?"
Did the other people in the room hear me? Tension heightens in my belly.
We go down a flight of stairs. I don't know where we're going, but I follow Dom.
He keeps striding away. "I doubt they heard that your mom doesn't have to worry about me. They don't know how gone the magic is either, or how I won't get an invite to a hockey game. As if."
Hot embarrassment blooms in my chest.
"Let's talk," I say.
He doesn't stop.
"Dom." I lunge and grab his wrist.
He turns around and I crash against him. He holds me up only as long as necessary to make sure I don't fall, then lets go.
"Talk?" He snaps. "Why talk? We know where we stand."
"My mom is visiting."
"That has nothing to do with me."
"No? Have you thought about what you'll do if you meet her again? She'll probably want to come see Cora and me at work. Will you bicker with her the way you do with me? Or ignore her like you tried to do with me?"
"Ignore her, of course."
"Have you ever met someone who can ignore Alicia Montt?"
He rolls his eyes and turns away. I grab him by the wrist again and this time, when he turns around, he's the one grabbing me from the arm. He pushes me back into a small alcove, caging me against a door.
I'm a little breathless from the shock. He plays with the handle and, finding the door unlocked, he pushes us inside.