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I let out a sigh at his cryptic answer, positive it’s his room and that he still expects us to share a bed. “I think I can find it from here.”
I expect Dom to argue, but he doesn’t. He just holds my backpack out in front of me.
The sight of it shouldn’t hurt my heart so much. But it does.
I take it.
But neither of us moves.
“The airport?” My question is a whisper as I stare at the bag Dominic bought me.
I don’t know what I think I’ll get out of having every last shred of our history destroyed.
I shouldn’t have asked.
Dom’s fingers brush lightly over my ponytail. “Go to bed, Valentine.”
My feet comply, and I stride forward without sparing him another look.
I pass three rooms, then reach the door at the end of the hall.
Keeping my hand on the edge of the door, I push it open enough to step inside, then let it shut behind me.
The room is obviously large. And as I stare at the platform bed, nicely made in dark gray bedding and facing yet another wall of windows, I have no doubt that this is the master bedroom. Dom’s bedroom.
I will anger to fully overtake the pain that hasn’t left my chest since King revealed Dom’s identity.
I don’t want to hurt anymore.
Not tonight.
I carry my backpack to the open doorway on this side of the headboard and find a luxurious bathroom that runs the length of the room. Oversized double vanity. Huge glassed-in shower stall with marbled walls. A separate room with a toilet. And a deep soaking tub in front of another large window.
Does no one worry about people with binoculars around here?
When I turn around to shut the bathroom door, I find a giant walk-in closet hidden behind the door.
Sure, I’m being paranoid, but not wanting a peeping tom to catch sight of me on my first night here, I take my backpack into the little toilet room and change into my pajamas.
While I wash my face, I don’t think about how I packed my bag this afternoon while blissfully thinking I was about to start my happily ever after with my new husband.
While I dab on my under-eye cream, I don’t think about how Dom encouraged me to pack an overnight bag with a day’s worth of essentials becauseit might be hard to sort through your stuff when we get home.
While I redo my ponytail with more force than necessary, I don’t think about how Dom drove so calmly to King’s house, knowing my world was about to crumble.
“He’s an asshole,” I tell my reflection. “A total fucking asshole.”
The burning sensation behind my eyes lessens, just the smallest bit.
“He’s a slimy piece of shit. A total fucking jerk.” I forcefully put toothpaste on the end of my toothbrush. “I hate him.”
I hold on to my anger as best I can while I practically scrub the enamel off my teeth.
I spit into the sink. “He’s a… a… prick.” I slam my toothbrush down on the edge of the sink and leave it there. Just like I leave my dirty clothes on the floor. And my backpack open on the edge of the tub.
They are small acts of defiance in his pristine living space, but they make me feel better.
I found my phone tucked into the side pocket of my bag, not sure when Dom stuck it there, but I carry it with me to bed.
