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Domino
A good man?I’ve never considered myself one before. As a cop, I did good, exacting justice where it was due. But now? No. I don’t think I am.
For Nicola, though, I could almost want to be. I never anticipated how she would make me feel when I was waiting for her outside the detention center. From the minute those doors opened and she stepped out, I was transfixed. With her dyed blonde hair, caramel-smooth skin, scared grey eyes, holding that bag to her chest, I couldn’t get enough of her.
The troublemaker my father described wasn’t present in that moment, just a woman looking at freedom and having no idea where it was. From the way she searched the parking lot, I knew almost immediately she thought Santo had abandoned her, and the rejection was written in every line of her body.
After calling her name, and she came to me, I knew from the first look in her eyes that she was going to be mine. It was only confirmed when she asked to see the family tattoo—our pledge to the Cardarelli name. The fact she knew the importance of that mark tells me my father has expectations for this girl and one of his sons.
I don’t care if he’s hoping Nicola will belong to one of my older brothers because she is going to be mine now.
Watching her as she sleeps, flinching with every crash of thunder, I wonder about her past. What brought her to my father’s door. The staff in the house are at a bare minimum due to my father’s departure, and I feel that might have been planned as well.
Seeking out the woman who has taken care of this house for as long as my father has owned it, I find her in the kitchen. “Good afternoon, Esme. Could I trouble you about the girl for a minute?” I sit at the table as she watches me with her knowing eyes.
“Your papa is so happy to have you boys home now.” She smiles while putting the kettle on the stove. “Coffee or tea?”
“Coffee, please.” I know I’ll have to wait for her to open up to me. “We’re all glad to be here.”
“Nicola is a sweet girl. Infectious laughter. Smart too.” Her smile grows warmer as she speaks of the young woman I brought home today.
Leaning against the solid wood of the small table, I say, “It’s her eighteenth birthday today. Papa asked me to order her dinner and a cake.”
Esme’s eyes grow wide before narrowing. “Nonsense, I’ll cook her a nice meal and have the bakery bring up one of their finest desserts.” Immediately the woman sets about her task.
“Do you know what she likes, Esme?” Her head tilts in confusion. “A present, she should have a present, shouldn’t she?”
“Oh!” Her hands clap her cheeks. “Yes. Most certainly. But that girl has never asked for anything, barely takes what’s been given to her. I have no idea what she likes. You could check her room, though.”
After steering me to Nicola’s room, Esme gets back to her cooking. Coffee forgotten, I enter my woman’s domain, searching for anything to clue me in to what she’s interested in.
Books line the shelf of a bookcase, well-loved and marked in some spots. Peeking inside a couple of them, Nicola enjoys a romance novel with a happy ending. I can work with that. Opening her closet, I see she hasn’t got much in the way of clothing, and I find the need to dress her in pretty garments nearly overwhelms me.
Spying an image of a dog on the desk, I pick it up and see it’s from a shelter. The chances of the animal still being there after six months are slim, but I’m going to try. Braving out into the storm, I exit the garage and head towards the shopping district. After hitting the bookstore and getting a few new bestselling romances and some shops for a few nice outfits—one particular item I’d like to see her in tonight—I drive in the direction of the animal shelter.
Showing the front clerk the picture of the dog, she shoots me a sorrowful smile, explaining that the dog was adopted but brought back just last week because he didn’t like his owners.
“I want to meet him,” I insist. After consulting with another employee, she takes me back to where the animal is being held in isolation.
Immediately, the beast lunges at the cage, snapping and snarling, trying to get through it, but I see it. What Nicola obviously saw. The pain in the animal’s eyes when I open the gate, unafraid. He cowers back against the wall.
Speaking in hushed tones to the animal, I’m able to hook a leash around his neck. When he bares his teeth at me, I snap a command I used when working with the K-9 units in America, and he settles down.
A hefty adoption fee and a lot of signed paperwork later, and I’m helping the animal into the back of my SUV, where he settles onto the bench seat. The shelter gave us the leash and a small bag of food until we can get to a pet store. Sitting in the front seat, I read through his file.
Three years old, abused by previous owners before being abandoned at the shelter, the mutt hasn’t had a decent home. Reading his name, I let out a chuckle. Capo is a Dogo Sardo, a rare Italian breed and mostly seen as aggressive. But they’re also loyal, protective, and dedicated to their owners. He’s just the kind of dog my Nicola needs.
Turning to stare back at the forlorn animal, I tell him, “Break her heart, and I won’t hesitate to end you.” He huffs out a deep breath, not understanding me. I’d never hurt an animal, but he doesn’t need to know that.
As I drive back home, the storm rages on, and I worry a bit about leaving Nicola after her apparent fright from the activity earlier.
Parking in the garage, I get out, grab the bags of gifts, the dog, and his food, and we head inside to the heavenly aromas of Esme’s cooking.
“You did not bring a dog into this house,” Esme grumbles as we enter the kitchen first.
“Put some water down for him, will you. I’m going to check on Nicola.” Ignoring Esme’s protests, I head up to my room, Capo on my heels.
The beast whines as soon as we enter the room and doesn’t hesitate to climb on the bed and cuddle into Nicola’s back as she rests. “Smart move,” I mutter as I approach her.
