Nobody seems to see it except me and Maxwell, but he’s just a bird and has a really small brain and barks a lot because he thinks he’s a dog. So he’s a little stupid.
Nobody else hadto know about my deal with Dom.
This was my problem to take care of, and I was going to do it without dragging anyone else into our “toxic vortex,” as Rachel had called it.
I knew she was right. Dominic and I were pure poison when we were together, and this way, I’d at least be able to keep the collateral damage to a minimum.
Besides, none of them would understand.
The second I got home from the so-called “interview,” I got to work searching his name and crawling into the deepest depths of every related rabbit hole I could find, looking for fuckups, rumors, gossip, or anything else I could use against him.
There wasn’t much, other than the handful of speculative comments looping back to an interview he’d done a few years back, in which he’d been coaxed to reveal little crumbs of his personal life—namely that he was single but not particularly looking. When the interviewer had pushed for details, asking what Dominic was looking for in a potential partner, he’d denied having any sort of checklist.
But he could say, with full certainty, that he couldn’t see himself with someone who wasn’t “self-made.”
A handful of commenters, including two self-proclaimed “body language experts,” were speculating whether the statement was general or directed at someone specific per the shift in Dominic’s tone. That was it. The only rumor-adjacent thing I could dig up on him.
So either his PR team was constantly working overtime to bury his skeletons, or he was using his ownership of 6Queue to maintain a tight grip over the narrative surrounding him, making the likelihood of anything unfavorable slipping through the cracks very slim.
From what the internet would have you believe, he was nothing short of an inspiration to all the little kids out there who dared dream big. After all, he’d come from such “humble beginnings” (you know, minus the part where he’d gone to one of the best private schools in the world, courtesy of my parents), was raised by a single mom who’d worked as a housekeeperto put food on the table (Rosie’s annual salary was more than double the industry standard at the time and included accommodation in a fully furnished four-bedroom guesthouse on my parents’ old property, complete with its own home theater—not to mention that my own mom, dad, and grandfather had been as hands-on in helping raise Dominic as Rosie had been with Adrien and me), and he’d dropped out of college on the first day of his first semester, ventured off on his own, and built a multibillion-dollar empire in less than five years (sure, fine, he could have that one).
All in all, other than a few threads of notoriety surrounding how ruthless and calculating he was as a businessman—which, according to relevant comments, seemed to inspire respect more than anything else—I couldn’t find anything damning. Absolutely nothing.
I hit Refresh one last time, about to call it… and then it happened.
A new result popped up, linking to a thread on Gossip Gorilla that was posted less than two minutes ago.
Unverified: Rumor has it that Dominic Crawford (yes that Dominic Crawford) wants to clean your toilets and call you his (grand)Daddy
When I tell you my dick is shaking over this it’s so fucking juicy. Word around town is that the finance demigod of our wet dreams is even kinkier than we could’ve ever dared allow ourselves to imagine.
Literally inside a cab right now and the driver just told me he dropped off someone at Dom’s place at like 4 a.m. the other day who was there because he paid her FIVE GRAND AN HOUR TO SPIT ON HIM WHILE HE CLEANED FOR HER.
And that’s just-the-tip of the kinkberg because apparently our Dom likes to be Dom’d by older men DRESSED UP AS MRS. DOUBTFIRE AND HE’S WILLING TO PAY A PREMIUM FOR IT.
Fuck me. Literally. This is so fucking funny and probably not real but he’s so fucking hot that I’m into it istg. I’m 8.7 months older than him and I’m praying it counts.
If anyone can verify/ tell me how to get in touch with whomever I need to get in touch with to make this happen, I’ll dedicate my first spit-spanking session with Dom to you. By my honor and my cock.
I grinned, my spine tingling with excitement as I quickly took a screenshot of the post to save in case it got deleted.
Then, with my fingers trembling and my stomach swimming with malicious glee, I clicked Share.
He still hadn’t learned his lesson.
I opened the gate to Dominic’s property without needing to use the code he’d set for me, wondering what the point was if he was just going to leave it unlocked all the time. I checked my watch, quietly making my way up the stone pathway.
I’d missed the early bus, so it was almost eight thirty. But since Dominic probably wasn’t going to be out of bed until he’d worn out the snooze button, I suspected I still had plenty of time to mash a pound of raw shrimp into a paste and spread it underneath the insoles of all his shoes. I’d even brought the shrimp with me, having thought ahead and?—
I stumbled backward with a small, silent gasp and almost dropped my spare key when the front door ripped open.
“You’re early.”
I cleared my throat, pretending like he hadn’t startled me. “Rosie started her day at six on the dot. If anything, I’m late.”
Dominic gave me a suspicious once-over, his eyes thinning as they landed back on my face. I held his gaze with a lazy boredom I didn’t feel.
He was wearing fitted stone slacks and a starched button-up with the sleeves neatly folded to showcase his corded forearms. He was clean-shaven, freshly showered, and his dark hair was pushed back with just enough product and precision to betray his first vulnerability: effort.
