I won’t look at him.
I’m scared of what will happen if I do.
I might lose all control and stick my tongue down his throat.
No. I’m a queen. I won’t throw myself at a man.
But then again this is a man I was intimate with for a long time, he knows all my weak spots. Dammit. And I know all his...
I clear my throat. “What’s the plan for tonight?”
“We are going to enjoy ourselves but reel in some clients as well. The person who may hire me for a case will be here.” He pauses. “Try to enjoy yourself tonight, Cipi, and not stress about anything. You’ve been through a lot these past weeks and you deserve a night out.”
“I can’t relax.” My gaze is locked on the window. “Who knows, my assassin might be lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike.”
Dominic taps his jacket. “They will have to get through me first. I’ll keep you safe.” He reaches over and touches my inner thigh. His fingers feel the gun that’s strapped there.
“What are you doing?” I gasp sitting up.
“Just checking.” He moves his hand away. “I knew you wouldn’t go to a party without anything on you. Thankfully they don’t have any metal detectors, but security will be there.”
“You could have just asked.” I fold my arms.
“Would you have told me the truth?”
“No,” I mutter.
He raises an eyebrow. “Did that bother you?”
“Dominic,” I groan. Thankfully I’m saved from elaborating further by Tom announcing we have arrived at the gala.
The limo pulls into the curved driveway of Villa Firenze. It’s a gated banquet hall that looks like a mansion. This facility is where all the people of elite status hold their celebrations. If you’re invited here, you’re in the top tier.
“Have you been here before?” Dominic asks, as the limo pulls under the porte-cochère and stops.
“Yes. I know the owners.”
“Of course you would,” Dominic mutters.
Valets in black suits open the doors. Dominic steps out first then turns and offers me his hand like he’s done this a thousand times. I take it a little too eagerly. My heels click against the cobblestone as I rise from the car. The valet closes the door and then says something to Tom who drives off.
The steps are framed by trees and bushes that are wrapped in twinkling fairy lights. Pumpkins and mums frame either side of the entrance. The building is modeled after a villa in Florence with arched windows, cream stucco walls, and a slate-tiled roof.
Dominic holds the door for me. Gentle music from a live quartet swells as we step into the foyer.
“Good evening Ma’am.” A waitress comes toward us. “May I take you and your husband’s coat.”
I can feel the blood draining from my face. “He’s…”
“Yes, we would love that, thank you,” Dominic interrupts.
Within seconds he strips off my coat along with his and hands them to the attendant. She gives him a ticket and walks away with our coats on her arm.
“Come on, let’s head inside.” Dominic gently takes my arm and guides me through the doors into the ballroom.
Marble floors greet us as we enter the large space. Circular tables are covered in black tablecloths with a gold runner. Large bouquets are in the center. The onyx chair covers feature ayellow ribbon with a bow tied in the back. Giant chandeliers hang from the ceiling and paintings of the Tuscan countryside cover the walls. There are mirrors everywhere.
Dominic glances at a sign that shows the seating chart. “We’re at table number seven.”
