Chapter Nineteen
Donny Rae
The ballroom of the St. Regis was a shimmering blur of gold leaf, crystal chandeliers, and the kind of high-stakes tension that usually preceded a revolution.
I stood at the center of a circle of women who represented the old guard of Atlanta—wives of senators, property moguls, and dynasty heirs.
Four months ago, I would have been looking for the nearest exit, terrified that the scent of the west side was still clinging to my skin.
However, tonight, in my emerald velvet gown with the gold lioness resting against my collarbone, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.
"It's not just a new leaf, Susan," I replied, offering her a calm, practiced smile as I sipped my champagne. "It's a new forest. The Masters name stands for stability now. We're building a future that includes everyone, not just the few."
I felt their eyes on me—calculating, curious, and finally, accepting. I wasn't just the girl Dominic had claimed; I was the woman holding the reins alongside him. Still, even as I laughed at their jokes and discussed the gala's charities, my internal compass was spinning toward the bar.
Dominic was standing there, looking like a god carved from midnight.
He was dressed in a black-on-black suit that highlighted the breadth of his shoulders, his thick beard groomed to a sharp edge.
He was deep in conversation with a silver-haired man who looked like he'd walked off a yacht in Malibu.
Despite the distance, I felt the pull of him—the raw, magnetic energy that always reminded me who I really belonged to.
Eventually, I saw the silver-haired man hand Dominic a black business card and walk away. Dominic's gaze immediately snapped to mine across the crowded room. He didn't have to say a word; the slight tilt of his head toward the balcony told me everything I needed to know.
I excused myself with a graceful nod, weaving through the silk-draped crowd until I stepped into the cool night air of the terrace. Dominic was already there, his back to the city lights, the orange ember of a cigar glowing between his fingers.
"You're the baddest woman in this building, you know that?" he murmured as I stepped into his shadow. He didn't wait for an answer, pulling me against his chest. The scent of bourbon and expensive tobacco enveloped a familiar comfort that made my heart skip a beat.
"And you're the most distracted man in this building," I teased, reaching up to adjust the lapel of his suit. "Who was that man, Dominic? He looked like he was trying to sell you the ocean."
"Julian Vane," Dominic answered, his voice dropping into that low, serious rumble.
"He wants us to expand, Donny. California.
Malibu. He's developing a massive stretch of the coast, with private docks and high-end estates.
He wants the Masters name to handle the logistics and the security.
He's talking about an empire that stretches from the Atlantic to the Pacific. "
I went still, looking up into his dark, heavy-lidded eyes. "California? That's a long way from home, Dom."
"It is," he said, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw, "but Atlanta is handled.
My pops is stable, the business is clean, and the streets are quiet.
I'm thinking about the future, baby. Our future.
I want to build something where our kids can grow up with the sun on their faces and the ocean in their backyard, away from the ghosts of this city. "
I looked out at the Atlanta skyline, then back at my husband. I saw the ambition in him, but more than that, I saw the desire to give me a world that wasn't built on blood.
"If you think we can rule there, then let's go," I whispered. "I'm not scared of the move as long as I'm with you. I think I'd look pretty good in a beach house, anyway."
Dominic laughed, the sound deep and vibrating against my chest. His eyes darkened, that predatory hunger I loved suddenly flaring up. He leaned down, his lips brushing mine. "You'd look good anywhere. But right now, you look too good for this party."
He grabbed my hand, his grip firm and possessive, and led me back inside.
We didn't head for the ballroom; we moved through the VIP hallway, our footsteps silent on the plush carpet.
He stopped at a heavy mahogany door, the private executive restroom, and pulled me inside, locking it with a sharp click.
The room was a cathedral of white marble and gold fixtures.
Before I could even catch my breath, Dominic lifted me onto the vanity, the cold stone a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body.
My emerald dress bunched up around my waist, his large, tattooed hands sliding up my thighs with an urgency that made my head light.
"Dominic," I gasped, my fingers tangling in the thick hair of his beard. "We have guests… the mayor is literally fifty feet away."
"The mayor works for me," he growled, burying his face in the crook of my neck. "And right now, I'm the only one who gets to vote on how we spend the next ten minutes."
He kissed me hard, as if he were staking his claim all over again, tasting like whiskey and that West Coast promise.
He fucked me right there, deep and slow, his eyes locked on mine while the party kept buzzing on the other side of the wall.
In the mirror, all I saw was us—king and queen, velvet and tattoos, taking what was ours in a palace we built from the dirt.
When it was over, I stayed draped over his shoulders, my heart hammering against his chest. He cleaned me up with a warm cloth, his movements surprisingly tender for a man with so much power in his hands. He helped me smooth my dress and fixed my hair, his eyes admiring his handiwork.
"You ready to go back out there and act like a lady?" he teased, a wicked smirk playing on his lips.
"Only if you promise me that beach house," I bargained, reaching up to straighten his black silk tie.
"It's already yours," he promised.
We walked back into the ballroom side-by-side, perfectly composed and untouchable.
No one suspected a thing, but as I stood there beside my husband, sipping champagne and talking about the future of the city, I felt the secret weight of the California card in his pocket.
The world was about to get a lot bigger, and the Masters were ready to take every inch of it.
I looked at Dominic, and he winked at me—the menace and his ginger-haired queen, ready for the West Coast.