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He ends the call without another word, and I almost feel bad for lying to him.
Almost.
Another plane pulls up to the departing zone, and another business appears at the top of the steps.
Like the last guy, his suit is tailored to his body, but…He looks way sexier, and he looks familiar.
Dominic?
As he descends the step, I realize it’s him, and his usual staffers and a bodyguard are preparing his luggage.
Of course, he’s flying somewhere for the holiday.
I crane my neck and wait to see Amy emerge in one of her usual Versace or Gucci dresses, but no other woman appears.
Not even a flight attendant.
Confused, I call the reservation desk at the estate.
“Happy holidays from the Grace Estate, how may I direct your call?”
“Hey Dana, it’s me,” I say. “Can you do me a quick favor and run a quick name search on all incoming reservations between now and New Year’s Day?”
“Sure thing. What’s the name?”
“Check for Reiss, Reiss Enterprises, Dominic R LLC, and Dom R.”
“Got it.” She hums as her fingers tap against the keyboard. “None of those names are popping up for me. I even extended my search out by ninety days.”
“I appreciate it. Thank you!” I end the call as Dominic steps into the building.
Wherever he’s staying while he’s here, it’ll be second best, which is what he deserves for firing me.
Before I can turn my head, he spots me.
Stopping mid-stroll, he slowly looks me up and down before coming my way.
“Georgia?”
“Get your eyes checked,” I say. “I’m not that person, and that’s not my name.”
He laughs. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting on my fiancé. We just discussed him on the phone, remember?”
“Right.” He rolls his eyes. “I guess he does pretty well for himself if he can afford to fly into this airport.”
“Yeah, he’s far wealthier than you.”
“I doubt that.” He’s looking me over again, and it suddenly feels like we’re alone in this terminal, like he’s seconds away from picking up where we left off in the office last year.
“Happy Holidays, Dominic. You can run along with your life now.” I motion for him to move, but he doesn’t budge.
“You look sexy as fuck in that dress,” he says. “Does your fiancé know you’re out tempting someone like me with it?”
“Tell you what,” I say, “Let’s call him and see what he thinks. I have to warn you, he’s pretty possessive when it comes to me.”
“I would be, too.” He doesn’t look the slightest bit threatened.
