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Gabriella
Ihaven’t seen much of Carter and Dominic since that night at the hospital. No surprise, really. Everyone is in crisis mode. Carter is taking care of Noah and spending all his spare time in the hospital. Dominic too. And on my end, work has been surprisingly busy. The clients loved the work I did on their rebranding strategy, and I’ve spent several hours on the phone as we hammer out the next steps.
I called Fred Jefferson on Wednesday afternoon, and we set up a meeting for Friday, but I’ve been so busy with work that I’ve had to postpone it. I’m now having coffee with him on Monday.
It’s Sunday night. Carter invited me to dinner. Call me a coward, but there’s a part of me that wants to postpone the conversation I need to have with Dominic. It’s been five days since we’ve spent any length of time together, and I miss them. I’m tempted to let it go. So what if Dominic called Fred Jefferson? Given everything else that’s happened, is it that big a deal? No, it really isn’t.
You’re shying away from confrontation, my conscience whispers. You don’t want to learn the truth.
This doesn’t have to go badly. This doesn’t have to be a fight. It’s a conversation, albeit a difficult one. But I have to have it. If I want to be in a real relationship with Carter and Dominic, I have to be able to trust that they’ll respect my boundaries. It doesn’t matter if Dominic thinks I’m making foolish decisions—they’re my decisions to make. It doesn’t matter if he thinks I’m an idiot for choosing to struggle instead of taking his help—if that is my choice, he should respect it.
As much as I want to avoid the topic, I’ll have to bring it up. If I can’t have heart-to-heart conversations with them, this might as well just be about sex.
I want far more than that.
Dominic opens his door.“Come on in,” he smiles, wrapping his arms around me and giving me a bone-crushing hug. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” I look around before kicking off my shoes and sinking onto the couch. “Carter not here yet?”
“He should be here any moment now. He went to drop Noah off at Samira Khan’s place. The kids are having a sleepover. He’s going to grab our takeout on the way back.”
“He’s okay with that?”
Dominic glances at me. “Is the sleepover safe, you mean? Yeah, there are guards. It’s been a pretty stressful week for Noah. Carter wanted him to have some fun.”
He looks troubled. I pat the couch, and he settles next to me. I squeeze his bicep. “Ed’s on the mend,” I tell him. “He’s going to be back home soon. That’s good, right? Noah’s going to be delighted by that.”
Carter walks in just then, cradling two full overflowing paper bags to his chest. He deposits them on the dining table and gives me a hug of greeting. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“I’m wearing a tank top and shorts.”
He grins lasciviously. “Exactly. Let’s eat before I get distracted by your legs.”
Warmth flows through me at the compliment. Dominic grabs plates and silverware, and we settle at the table. “How much food did you order?” I ask, shaking my head at the overflowing containers of food. The chicken tikka masala smells delicious, and my stomach rumbles in anticipation. “Because there is enough here to feed a dozen people.”
“I didn’t know what you wanted,” Carter responds. “I figured if I ordered enough stuff, I’d get it right.”
“That’s almost word-for-word what Dominic said the first time we ate dinner together,” I reply with a laugh. “You should have texted me; you’re going to have so many leftovers.”
“I doubt it. I’m starving.”
We dive into the food. For a few moments, none of us talk; we’re too busy eating. Then, when we’ve polished off the samosas and made deep inroads into the chicken, the chickpeas, and the naan, Dominic clears his throat. “The night we had dinner at Dalian,” he begins. “Something was bothering you.”
“I thought you’d forgotten.”
He shakes his head. “No. I was waiting for a good time to bring it up, I guess.” His eyes rest on my face, serious and concerned. “Will you tell us what it is?”
“At dinner, I checked my voicemail. There was a message there from Fred Jefferson. He said you had recommended me.” I set my fork down and take a deep breath. “Dominic, I thought I made my feelings clear. I don’t want you making calls on my behalf.”
“I should have warned you that Fred would reach out,” he admits. “I was going to.” His lips curve into a faint smile. “In my defense, we were otherwise distracted.”
With some really good sex. My cheeks heat.
“I’m sorry, Gabby,” he continues. “When he asked me for someone who could help Nyla, I thought of you, but—”
Wait a second. “He asked for a recommendation?” I lean forward. “You didn’t reach out to him?”
“No, Fred runs a bank. Atlantic Southern. Mitchell applied for a loan there through various shell companies. Carter found proof tying Mitchell to the loan, and so I told Fred, who put a stop to the transaction. Mitchell retaliated by hurting Ed and Zach.” He looks unhappy. “Anyway, Fred asked me if I had contacts in the entertainment industry. I knew you were managing Nicky Z’s social media, so I thought it would be a good fit. I’m sorry. I should have checked with you before giving him your name—”
