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We step through the main doors and into the entrance foyer.
I’m shocked to see Dom hurrying down the stairs, though his gait is awkward, as though he’s favoring one side. He gets closer, and I’m able to make out his face. I draw in a sharp breath. His left eye is swollen and black, his lower lip split.
What happened to him? Is this why he’s in such a rush?
He spots us, runs up to me, grabs my chin and looks deep into my eyes. I struggle to look at his poor face, but he doesn’t seem to care about it, or notice it. Perhaps he’s forgotten how he looks.
“Oh, Duchess. So much to talk about. You’re such a fucking naughty girl.” Then he turns to Tino. “You’re fucking dead, asshole. Luckily for you, Kirill might actually be dead if I can’t find my dad.”
“What?” I say in shock. “What do you mean?”
The events of the past week have been so crazy that now I am just rolling with it, punch drunk and dazed. I’d just been worrying about Dom, and now I’m being told it should be Kirill I’m fearful for.
“His father is here, and he’s possibly going to kill him.” He points to a blossoming bruise on his jaw. “The fucker backhanded me.”
Is that who caused his injuries? Kirill’s father? It seems hard to believe. Plus, those injuries look like they’re a day or two old, and they certainly don’t look as though they were caused by someone giving him a slap. It looks more like he’s taken a full beating.
Did his dad do this to him?
“I need to find my dad,” Dom continues.
Tino shakes his head. “Shit, man, we only just got back. We haven’t seen him.”
“I already checked his rooms,” Dom says. “He’s not there.”
Seeing Dom like this frightens me. I can’t remember him ever being so out of control. Even when I’d caught him cutting himself, there had been a reserved kind of violence about him. Now he’s wild-eyed and desperate.
Kirill’s dad wouldn’t actually murder him, would he? His own son?
I remember having the same thought about Nataniele when I’d been in the hospital.
These men are all so fucked up. But then I think about my own parentage and what happened between them, and I realize mine isn’t much better. I’m a part of this madness now.
“What about the dean’s office?” Tino says. “He’s probably there.”
He takes in Dom’s face and the way he’s holding his side and says, “I’ll go. I’ll be faster.”
Tino spins on his heel and sprints down the hallway, leaving Dom and me standing there.
“What happened to your face?” I ask.
“You did, Duchess.”
My jaw falls. “What? I didn’t do that.”
“No, but my dad decided to show me just how much more you’re worth to him than I am.”
My voice drops to a whisper. “That’s not true.”
“You’re calling me a liar now, too?”
I find myself blinking back tears. “No. I just?—”
I don’t even know how I planned to finish that sentence. I reach up and lightly touch my fingers to his jaw, stubble grazing the tips, and then I brush my thumb against the healing split on his lip. He winces slightly and jerks back.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I go to pull my hand away, but he clamps it in place with his own, his big palm covering the back of mine.
“No,” he says. “I liked it.”
