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Dominick
Iwas reading the Celebrity Alert again when the gate outside my driveway began to open, the monitor in the kitchen showing Jenner’s car driving through.
He’d asked me to go out with him tonight, and I’d chosen sleep. I could only assume he’d ended up at the same club Kendall was at and that she was the passenger in his front seat.
I met her at the door, holding it open enough for her to slip inside, and I waved at Jenner as he reversed out of my driveway. Once I locked up, she was sitting on my couch in the same dress that had appeared in the photos. Her hair wasn’t as wild as it had looked in the shots, her skin not as flushed.
She didn’t have any lipstick on.
“Do you want some water?”
She nodded, and I went into the kitchen, grabbing two bottles that I brought into the living room, handing her one. I took the blanket off the back of the couch and spread it over her.
“Tell me what happened.”
Photographers manipulated their shots before they sold them to online outlets. Responses and situations were almost always taken out of context. I knew because these were things I fixed for a living, suing photographers and media sources when I could prove fraud.
Before my hands went anywhere near Kendall, I needed to get to the bottom of this.
And I needed to hear it in her words.
Her knees were pressed against her chest, arms wrapped around them; she looked even smaller than she already was. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before.” She put her head down, and when she finally looked up again, I saw the emotion. “The lights, the screaming, all the rushing around me. It felt like I was being attacked.”
I sat beside her, resting my fingers on the back of her neck, feeling the heat on her skin. “It can get intense, I know.”
“It all started when Jordan approached me in the VIP area,” she began, and she went on to explain how he’d led her into the restroom to ask her out on a date. She described their conversation, how he’d come on to her and the way he had touched her face. She even told me the excuse she had given him and how he’d programmed his number in her phone.
She put down her water. “I mean, God, there were hundreds of other stunning women there tonight. Celebrities. Industry peeps. I didn’t think he’d be interested in me.”
It blew my mind that she had no idea how beautiful she was. That she didn’t believe a cocky son of a bitch like Presley Jordan could want her.
But it wasn’t the right time to tell her this.
“I don’t like him—you need to know that, Dominick. I’m never even going to call him.” She opened her bag and took out her phone, showing me his number. “See, I’m deleting his info right now.” She tossed her cell against the couch, her eyes taking in mine. “Photoshop is what I know best, and I can promise you with everything I have that those shots were edited. I wasn’t even wearing pink lipstick tonight.”
I believed her.
Not a single part of this story surprised me in any way. This was Hollywood; these were the things that happened to make money and sell stories and gain popularity.
But there was one thing that needed clarification. “Why did you call me?”
She released a long exhale, her legs dropping from her chest, her hands folding on her lap. “When that happened, all I wanted was your voice. Your protection. Your arms around me.” She ran her hand through her hair. “Then, you seeing that alert and thinking I would do that, that I would so easily be with someone else when I had all these feelings for you, was something I couldn’t handle.”
“Kendall—”
“No,” she said, grabbing my arm, “let me finish.” She took another breath. “I don’t know how else to tell you this or how to show you I’m nuts about you, but I am. I know this life isn’t what you want, and I understand now why that is. If tonight showed me anything, it’s that. But somehow, someway, I believe we can make this work if it’s something we both want.” Her eyes were pleading with mine. “And it’s what I want, Dominick. More than anything.”
What she wouldn’t let me tell her was that when that alert had come across my phone and I looked at the photos of Kendall and Presley, how they had been made to look like Presley’s hands and mouth had been all over her, I’d wanted to fucking throw my phone across the room.
All I could hear in my head was Brett’s warning, repeating on a continuous loop.
“Stop denying yourself and scoop that shit up before someone else does and you hate yourself because you fucking lost her.”
I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. It would take some maneuvering and hard planning to keep this relationship private for as long as we could. Dating was something I never did, especially with a celebrity-to-be, but there was no way I could let this one go. No fucking way I could let another second pass without this stunning girl knowing exactly how I felt about her.
“Get over here.” My eyes narrowed as I took her in, deciding that if she didn’t move closer in the next few seconds, I was going to lift her myself.
“Dominick, I don’t—”
My hand tightened on her neck, and I growled, “So I can put my lips on you and show you that you’re mine.”
Slowly processing my words, she threw herself in my arms, clutching my waist with all her strength. My hands became lost in those unruly locks as I held her even tighter against me. For the first few seconds, she squeezed me with all her strength, and then her body turned limp, allowing me to move her, protect her, hold her the way I wanted.
“Baby,” I whispered, pulling her head back, locking our stares, “I’m fucking crazy about you. When I’m not with you, you’re all I think about, wanting to be closer, wanting to wrap you against me.” My lips pressed to her cheek. “Wanting to be inside you.”
I took several breaths, inhaling her tropical scent, and leaned back to look at her again. “You were correct when you said I hadn’t found the right one. But that was, until I met you, Kendall. That’s when everything changed—when I started to change.”
I held her face, scanning each of her eyes. “I fought this because I knew it was going to get heavy and go against everything I believed.” I shook my head. “But I can’t fight it anymore. I can’t take the chance of losing you.” I swiped my thumb across her bottom lip, my favorite of the two. “You’re perfect. And you’re perfect for me.”
“You’re … mine.”
A smile moved across me. “In every fucking way.”
Her arms found their way around my neck, and she moved over my lap, her legs straddling me. I gripped her ass, hissing when I didn’t feel any panties and again when I felt the bump of her microphone pack.
“It’s turned off; don’t worry.” She reached into the top of her dress and moved the piece that was taped inside along with the wire and the hardware it was attached to, setting the whole device on my couch.
I held her face still. “You need to make me a promise. No more photos of you and Presley or some other dude coming out of a restroom—or anywhere for that matter.”
“Was someone a little jealous?”
