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“Nice try. But I’m not sure what this is between us.” I motion with my finger. “I don’t even know if it would work. Maybe we should just stay friends.”
“Damn, wound a guy when he’s down, Geneva.”
The way my name sounds from his lips, it causes my heart to skip a beat. I know it could never work between us. How would it? He’s a guy that lives a world of mystery and danger. I work a full-time job during the day, dance at night and live a simple life. A life as simple as possible.
“If that’s what you want,” Dominick says.
“It’s probably for the best.”
“Let me get your coat, and I can drive you home.”
“Oh, I can take an Uber, it’s no bother.”
“Absolutely not. I invited you here as my guest, I will make sure you arrive home safely.”
“Well, okay then.”
We walk through the house, and Dominick assists me with my coat, gets his own leather jacket, and we head out to the SUV. Or I assume we would be taking it, but Dominick walks over to the garage and raises it with a remote. It reveals the most expensive car in the world, and it’s extremely hard to get because they only make a couple a year.
“I’m sorry, I’m pretty sure I’m hallucinating. That is a Bugatti La Voiture Noire.”
He smiles wide. “You know your cars.” He moves to open the passenger door, and I slide in.
This car will run anyone about eighteen million dollars. Who would spend that kind of money on a car? I’ll tell you; it seems Dominick would.
I’m still dumbfounded when Dominick gets behind the wheel. He gives me a wink before he starts to head to my place. We enjoy the ride as the car whips in and out of traffic, and it seems like we arrive to my apartment in a flash. Dominick parks in a spot in front of my building. And I turn to him. “Thank you so much for dinner. I enjoyed it a lot.”
“I’m glad. I’m happy to do it again anytime.”
“I guess I’ll see you.”
“See you, Geneva.”
There he goes saying my name again causing my heart to pitter patter. I exit his vehicle, adjusting my purse strap on my shoulder, and I turn to wave him off. But I’m turned around by someone and they are running off with my purse. “Hey asshole!” I yell.
Dominick exits his car. “Go inside, I’ll meet you there.” And he takes off after the guy.
I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve never had an issue like this before. With a huff, I head up to my apartment. Luckily, I already had my keys out of my purse before I got out of the car. Kicking off my heels, I drop my keys on the kitchen island and immediately grab two glasses to pour some whiskey.
Leaning against the bar, I contemplate my bad luck and thank God Dominick was here to go after the guy even though it’s probably not worth the trouble and take a swig of my drink.
There’s a knock on my door. With a glass still in hand, I open the door knowing Dominick is on the other side. “Here’s your purse,” he says. That’s when I notice his bloody hands. “Jesus, I hope you didn’t kill the guy.”
He doesn’t reply to my comment. I grab the other glass and hand it to him, knowing he needs it. “Come on. Let me get you cleaned up,” I pull his hand toward my bathroom. “Run your hands under the water,” I instruct while I grab the cotton swabs and bandages from the cabinet under the sink.
Taking his hand, I run some mild soap on his wounds and then carefully dry them.
“How come you aren’t using peroxide or alcohol on my hands?”
“Because that is actually more harmful and can hinder the healing process.”
“Oh.”
After drying his hands, I apply some antibiotic ointment on his knuckles, and then I use a hand bandage to wrap them up because a normal bandage wouldn’t hold.
“Thanks for getting my purse. But you should have just let the guy go.”
“I couldn’t let him get away with that.”
