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London
Letting myself fall in love? Dad’s words play in my head during dinner. For once I’m glad Bianca is taking charge of the conversation because my mind is too agitated. I don’t want to fall in love. But I don’t want Dad to worry about me. I’m perfectly fine.
I lost Kyle when we were so young. I’ve carefully created my life to live fully while minimizing the potential of experiencing that horrible pain again. When you wished you were dead as well. When the universe tested you with suffering instead. Abandoned by those you trusted and needed the most.
Not getting hurt is already a challenging mission because I have seven siblings, I lost my mother when I was very young, and my father’s health is in danger right now. The likelihood of loss is high enough without letting myself fall in love.
Why is me protecting my heart such a problem? Is Dad trying to make sure there is another man in my life once he’s gone? That’s bullshit.
But still, the way he lowered his voice and uttered those words in the park, like the future of the world weighed on his shoulders… his words sounded like his last wish. Can I deny him that?
Bianca talks about her shopping and her lunch at Massi’s restaurant with her teenage grandson, but I’m only catching a word here and there.
“You’re quiet tonight.” She squeezes my hand. “Is everything all right?”
I smile. “If you guys don’t mind, I’m going out tonight.” I kind of surprise myself. I didn’t plan on clubbing while Dad is staying with me, but I need to get out for two reasons. My head could use a reset, and it’s time to potentially find myself a boyfriend.
Not sure how to execute the latter. I’m perfectly capable of picking up a man, but those are men with no expectations. How do you get a man who wants to date? God. Last time I was in a relationship was… my first time. The damage has been permanent.
How long would I need to keep the man around? I guess I can break up with him after an appropriate time once Dad sees I have, in fact, fallen in love. On paper.
“But of course. Don’t sit around with us old folks.” Bianca stands up and starts putting away the dishes. At home she has a cook and a housekeeper, even though it’s just her and my dad, but despite her status she’s never shied away from housework.
“Don’t feel like you have to entertain us. I’m ready for bed anyway.” Dad stands up and kisses my hair.
Thirty minutes later, I leave the apartment ready to hit the town. And, of course, Patagonia is leaving Dom’s. What? Since when do I call him Dom?
I should talk with him about Warren’s withdrawal of her building application. Well, now is as good a time as any other.
I nod a greeting to Patty and raise my finger, trying to stop Dominic from closing the door. “Do you have a moment?”
He gives me a lazy smile. “But of course,Lo.”
The bastard has now adopted my family’s name for me.
“Dom,” I growl, and his smile widens, practically splitting his face. If he didn’t look so hot, it would be so much easier to hate him.
He lets me enter and I realize this is the first time I’ve been in his apartment. It’s the same layout as mine, and it doesn’t necessarily have more furniture. But it looks more lived in.
Nestled in the middle of the living room is a large, white leather couch with throw pillows and a fuzzy blanket. And while they are black and gray, they still provide more accent than anything in my plain decor. The sofa faces a wall with a gigantic screen. Of course, that’s such a man thing.
His dining table is perched in front of the window wall, but I doubt he eats there because it looks more like a desk. Books, stacks of papers and documents are strewn across the glass surface and on the chairs.
“Sorry, we’ve been working,” he says, following my gaze. “Can I offer you anything?”
“No, I’m going out. This will be short.”
I turn sideways, so I’m not looking at his living room. His space has a pull I can’t explain, and I irrationally wish he would give me a tour.
“Okay, what’s up?” He shifts his weight to one foot, crossing the other at his ankle. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His simple white T-shirt stretches over the expanse of his torso.
He’s bulkier than when he first moved in. More in shape. His skin is darker, tanned-looking, which is ridiculous in New York’s November. I guess he’s just healthier, recovering from his burnout.
“Felicia Warren is selling the property. Quite a dramatic change of heart…” I came here to thank him for his help because it wasn’t Gio’s lawyers making this happen. I doubt Felicia made a spontaneous business decision. I know it was him. He told me as much. Just like that, my blood boils. He took care of it, probably while fucking her at the Madison Club. But why?
“Why do I feel you’re upset about the development? I thought that’s what you wanted?” He cocks his head.
We’re standing in the shadows, the only light coming from a standing reading lamp and another one on his dining table/desk by the window.
