Holding my breath, I wrap my fingers around the knob, and turn it slowly. The door moves back.
There he is.
He’s staring so intently at the computer that he doesn’t even notice me standing in the doorway. He must think I’m his secretary.
The office is clean and orderly, typical of Dominic. The walls are a deep charcoal and floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the far side of the office. The thick glass overlooks the city and the river. The views are stunning.
Dominic sits in a big leather chair at a dark oak desk. He is engrossed in two computer monitors. Behind him is a large bookcase and around the room are tv screens that are running security footage at different places. At the edge of his desk is a globe and a map is pinned on the far wall.
He raises his head slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “Tina. What’s that smell?” he calls, not looking up.
“Blood, death, and betrayal.” I fold my arms and smirk.
Dominic jerks up and turns to the door. The sleeves of his collared shirt are rolled back and his tie is loose. He jumps to his feet. Piercing gray eyes lock onto mine as his jaw drops. My stomach flutters.
“It’s a signature family scent, you know.” My voice drips with sarcasm. I’m surprised I can even speak.
“Cipriani,” he whispers.
His face is pale. He says my name like I’ve risen from the grave and come back to haunt him.
“Hello, Dominic.”
We stare at each other. He’s aged well since the last time I saw him. At thirty-eight years old, I think he’s even more handsome, but I would die before I tell him that.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Dominic’s eyes morph from shock to furious. “I knew I recognized that scent…Prada.”
I cross the room and stand in front of him. The desk is the only barrier between us.
“I need your help.”
Silence rings through the air and my request seems to have stolen Dominic’s ability to talk.
I take in his form while he takes in mine. He has gotten more buff and fit since the last time I saw him. His collared shirt fits snuggly around his chest, and biceps highlight his hard work at the gym. I hate how my pulse spikes uncontrollably as I look at him.
“H-How did you get in?” he stammers, his eyes still wide as if he can’t believe I’m real.
“You know me. Doors and walls really aren’t a barrier in my profession. But your secretary so kindly let us in.” I smirk.
He exhales and attempts to compose himself. “Have a seat, I guess.”
I settle into the chair across from his desk. Dominic sinks into his leather seat looking ten years older. He runs a hand through his dark brown hair that’s styled into a crew cut.
“What are you doing here?” he repeats.
I cross my legs and stare at him. “I said I need your help.”
The word ‘help’ seems to stir something in him because his eyes snap to attention and a storm whirls behind his hazel irises. “Help?”
“Yes, help.”
A bitter laugh escapes him. “You? Need help? Yeah, right. With the flick of your fingers, you make all your problems disappear.”
“Well, unfortunately there’s one I can’t make go away and I need your assistance to do it.”
He snorts. “What makes you think I would ever help you?”
“Last I checked you’re not married to the law anymore.”
