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She knows she's asking for a spanking when she calls me anything but my name. I don't want to scare away my cherry blossom, but I'm determined to have her in my bed as soon as fucking possible.
Chapter 19
Loren
"Thanks, Mom."
I accept the little cut-out picture she hands me of Evelyn. It's an adorable photo of her. She's sitting in bright lighting on the living room floor, and the picture was taken of her mid-giggle with one of my kid-friendly necklaces in her hands. She looks like the most precious little jewelry thief in the world.
My mom is a scrapbook and photo album fiend. So despite telling her I have about a billion pictures of Evie on my phone, she insists that having a physical copy is always better "just in case." Suppose there's ever an en masse technological crash in the world. In that case, she's ensured we have physical copies of each other—especially Evelyn.
I slip the picture of my little girl into my purse and peck Evie on the cheek. She's playing with a collection of brightly colored wooden blocks in one of the guest rooms, but she watches me and even makes a grabby goodbye motion to me as I leave again.
The weekend was weird. I tried my damndest to keep to our little mother-in-law's suite area, and I caught up on random errands as an excuse to stay out of Domenic's house when I knew he was there. He seemed to keep busy with the casino, but I didn't miss the heat in his gaze whenever wedidcross paths.
Last night, I'd fantasized for a good two hours about tiptoeing from my bed to his room, calling him to come home from the casino, and fucking his brains out.
God, this is driving me crazy. I can't be with this man, not with the secrets from my past trying to swallow me whole, yet I can't fight the pull between us. I don't even like trying to fight it, truthfully. Something about being with him just eases the constant do-what-it-takes-to-survive mentality I've grown up with. When his hands are on my skin, he makes me feel precious. Wanted.Needed, even.
As if a powerful individual like him would ever need me. This rekindled desire between us can only lead to one thing: him moving on from me eventually. And if he figures out the truth about our daughter, he'll take Evelyn with him when he does.
Or…will he?
Parking in front of the casino where I have been ever since the attack in the parking garage, I chew my lip as I stare up at the Golden Flame.
Wouldhe try to take her away from me? He called me a wonderful mother. I even told him about Evelyn's delayed speech issue, and he seemed unconcerned. Was that just because he doesn't think she's his kid, so he doesn't care? Or was it because he trusts my judgment with her?
I recall the gentleness on his face as he'd smiled at her the other night. That tender tone of voice that I'd never heard him speak in before.
"Ciao, tesoro."
A growing part of me wants to see him around Evelyn again. To gauge his reaction to her on the whole. Would he love her as powerfully as I do? Would knowing he's her father change his reactions toward her at all?
I do trust him. Maybe more than anyone else. Honestly, Iwantto trust him with this.
Perhaps I just need more time to build that trust. Then maybe telling him would enter my realm of possibility just a little more.
Inside the Golden Flame, I make my way quickly to the back of the gambling house, slipping into the security room with a tight smile at Vivian, who looks sternly at me for being a couple minutes late. As usual, the room is buzzing with people watching camera feeds and murmuring into walkie-talkies of Caputos and other security personnel stationed all over in the casino.
I settle into my place and glance at the screens that capture the second floor overlooking the main casino area. That's where Domenic is now, looking sexy as hell in his suit, as usual. He's chatting with some kind of minor celebrity based on the reactions and comments of the other security team members observing the interaction.
She's a woman older than me, probably closer to his age. Drop-dead gorgeous and laying it onthickas she practically eye fucks him right there by the railing.
I fight a smile at the cool demeanor Domenic gives off. She might as well be a walking, talking wall of bricks. As always, he's polite and detached. Nothing more, nothing less. And when the woman reaches out as if to adjust his tie, he gives her a steely look that has the little celebrity hurrying off with her friends, who appear to be live-streaming the entire thing.
That's right. Run, bitch. He's mine.
The thought startles me, and I quickly dive into work to avoid analyzing it. Because Icannotstart thinking of Domenic Caputo as mine. What the hell am I thinking?
Hours later, after carefully tracking another line of bizarre patterns in the system, I feel a knuckle graze my cheek and jolt a little, blinking up. Domenic is standing beside me, and his lips twitch as he pulls his hand away and nods at the screen before me.
"You're focused."
"Well, I was until you so kindly distracted me," I sass, grinning and pointing at the screen. "See here? And here? This is the pattern I was talking about. I have dozens of screenshots of shit like this. Actually, I've gathered enough data that I think I can—"
"Have you eaten?"
I give him a longsuffering look. "Come on, not this again. I've been busy. Let me finish. It's not really—"
