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As we pass it, the seated man stands. “Mr. Gonzalez.”
Dominic pauses, grabbing my wrist, so I pause, too. “Phil, this is my wife. Make sure everyone knows.”
The man looks at me and nods. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Gonzalez.”
I’m proud of myself for not flinching at him calling me that. “Likewise.”
Manners have me wanting to hold my hand out, but since he keeps his hands at his sides and Dom doesn’t loosen his grip on my wrist, I don’t bother.
“I’m sure Mr. Gonzalez has already told you, but if you need anything at all, just call down.”
Dom has not told me that, and I don’t know how tocall down, but I tell him thank you all the same.
Conversation closed, Dom moves us down a hallway on the other side of the desk to a single elevator that’s not visible to the rest of the lobby.
There’s a palm reader in place of a call button, and when Dom presses his hand to it, the doors slide open, and we step in.
I expect the group of men to enter with us, but they turn their backs to the elevator and stand in place as the doors slide shut.
The ascension is quick, and before I can think of what to say to Dom, the car is slowing to a stop, and the doors are reopening.
There’s a man—one of Dom’s, I assume—in the hallway outside the door to the condo, but Dom still uses the palm reader to unlock it.
He doesn’t open the door, though. He taps the corner of the screen, and a keypad displays. Dom types in a series of letters, faster than I can track.
I’m starting to turn my gaze away, not interested in security equipment, when Dom lifts my hand, the one he’s still holding by my wrist.
“Press it flat to the glass.”
I do as he says. I don’t see or feel anything, but after a few seconds, a tiny symbol blinks green below my thumb.
“Good.”
I take that as permission to drop my hand, and he taps in a few more commands, then reaches past me to open the door.
It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I first stepped foot in Dominic’s home, but it holds a familiarity that allows my shoulders to relax for the first time since he told me we were going to a funeral.
“Stay here,” Dom says to me, placing his hand on my back before raising his voice. “Everyone out.”
The two men I can see start toward us, and two more men I hadn’t noticed move into the main room, with another man coming in through the glass door from outside.
“You three.” Dom points to a trio. “You stay in the hallway outside the door. You.” He points to another. “You’re in the lobby. And you.” He points to the last man. “You’re in the parking garage. These are your positions when my wife is home. No one is in here with her. If she orders anything, you’ll collect it from downstairs and hand it to her at the door. Not a fucking foot inside. Got it?” The men all nod. “You’re here because I trust you to protect my woman. But if you step out of line, I’ll kill you my-fucking-self.”
The serious looks on their faces turn even more stony.
They clearly believe him.
As the men file out the door, a flutter of something close to affection tries to take flight in my belly. But then I remember that protecting me is just Dom protecting his connection to The Alliance.
My shoulders slump as the door clicks shut, and I step forward, dislodging Dom’s touch.
“What’s wrong?”
At Dom’s question, I spin around, finally grabbing hold of the fury that’s evaded me all day. “Where do you want me to start?”
His expression is curious. “Start with whatever just happened. A second ago.”
Oh. That.
