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So then I sat on the overstuffed chair in the corner of the bedroom and googled Dominic Gonzalez.
Mostly photos of him at big city events. One article title speculated about his involvement in the Chicago mafia. But overall, there was surprisingly little.
So, of course, then I did a search for The Alliance.
Which led to a text from King asking why I’m looking them up online. Which then led to me slamming my laptop shut and turning my phone off.
And now, with nothing left to do, I’m pacing. Wondering if there’s a way out of this.
I spin around and pace back across the room when a sound stops me.
Was that the front door?
I tiptoe toward the bedroom door and lean into the opening to listen.
Footsteps.
All I hear are footsteps echoing through that giant-ass main room. But how the hell am I supposed to know if it’s Dom or someone else?
While you’re here, you’re safe.
I back away from the door.
The footsteps are on the stairs.
It has to be him.
I keep backing up, around the foot of the bed and over to the side I slept on last night.
Torn between looking for a weapon and faking sleep, I’m standing there, frozen, when Dominic appears in the doorway.
He stops when he spots me, and I let out a rough exhale.
“You scared me,” I accuse.
He grins. “That mean you’re happy to see me?”
I narrow my eyes. “I was worried it might be an axe murderer. So, sure, I’m glad it’s you instead.”
“Next time I’ll…” Dom trails off, and I follow his line of sight to my chest. “Hmm, I like that.”
I pluck at the fabric. “You like me covered in your baggy clothes?”
“I like you covered in my alma mater.”
My eyes widen, and I look back down at the sweatshirt. “You went to Yale?”
He stalks around the bed toward me. “Yeah, all the good schools were full.”
“I figured you stole it.” I shuffle a step back. “I didn’t know Ivy League offered gangster studies.”
Dom barks out a laugh, and I hate it. Because I wish he did it more often. “Dammit, Valentine, I like you.”
“I—Well… I don’t like you.” The heat of my words is lessened by my hurried climb onto the bed. The only form of escape left to me.
His chuckle lets me know my barb didn’t hit. “You liked me once. You will again.”
I huff and drag the blankets up to my chin. “Your side of the bed is over there.” I nod my head in the other direction.
