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A very handsome invitation, at that. He's clearly furious, but he looks so good even when he's angry.
His dark eyes flick down to me, and he snarls at whatever he sees. I blink when a few moments later, he steps into a suite at the top of the casino. It's enormous, with a glass wall overlooking the sparkling Vegas strip, complete with a sitting space, a minibar, and a glimmering chandelier overhead. This is ritzy.
He sets me down on one of the plush couches of the sitting space and then gingerly tips my head to one side, grinding his teeth together as he looks at my forehead near my temple. I realize that's where the blood dripping over my jaw is coming from—my head.
That's unfortunate. I'll probably have a little scar there now.
Domenic swears colorfully and meets my gaze. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?"
I feel shaky and raw after another brush with danger at the hands of the Wild Seven, so I just shake my head, waving off his confusing question.
"Alarms were going off. Is everything okay? What happened?"
"They hacked our security to make those alarms go off. Sent every customer in here racing out, and now I'm beginning to think they did it simply to get toyou. Why didn't you tell me you're running from the Wild Seven?"
I flinch away when he gently prods the area around my hairline where the blood is matted. "I have to say, you really have a knack for timing. How did you know they were attacking me? Another second and they would have killed—"
He cuts me off with a sharp look as if he's pissed I'd even say the words. "I saw them attack you on the security cameras. I'm sure they thought I would be too distracted with the mayhem in my casino to notice what they were trying to do."
He swears again and slips off his suit coat to press it against my head to soak up some of the blood. I'm pretty sure his suit costs a hell of a lot, but I don't say a word because I'm feeling remarkably lightheaded.
"You might need stitches," Domenic finally murmurs, voice a low rasp.
I look at his face again and watch his anger as he checks my arms and legs, cataloging each scuff and road burn on my skin.
Truly, the damage isn't too bad. I'm sure the scrapes will heal up in a couple of days, and although it feels like I have a concussion, I'm sure it won't last long.
"I hate going to doctors," I mutter, closing my eyes against the throbbing in my head. Now that the adrenaline of the attack is fading, I'm beginning to feel the bruising in my side from where Roulette hit me, along with everything else.
Domenic's fingertips lightly brush over my arm, and then he grumbles something under his breath that I don't catch. I can still practically feel the fury radiating off this drop-dead gorgeous man, but he still hasn't left me to go deal with the shit that just went down in his casino.
"No doctor needed if you don't want one. I can stitch it myself," he finally says quietly. "It would only be a couple of stitches. I've done it plenty of times. Would you trust me?"
There's another layer to his question. He wants to know if I would trust him in general, not just with this. I consider it for a long moment, staring up into his beautiful dark eyes before I finally nod.
"Sure. Stitch me up, Dr. Caputo."
I try to make my voice light, but I'm sure I sound as drained from the unexpected fright as I feel. And I know there is no real levity in the fact that I just gave him that inch of trust he was asking for.
It's not something I should be doing, trusting a man like this. He's a mobster, a slick and cunning businessman who could ruin my family and me in the blink of an eye if he chose to. But would he choose that? If he knew about Evelyn, what would he do?
I feel unnervingly safe as Domenic gently and expertly stitches up the cut on my head while I grip the front of his shirt and try not to squirm or sway from my lightheadedness. He's gentle with me. So careful. Though he keeps swearing under his breath, obviously angered at the sight of my blood and the marks on my skin, he comforts me with small touches on my jaw and shoulder as he finishes patching me up.
I never imagined a mafioso like him could be so…tender.
Telling him about Evie is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back as he puts away his considerably extensive first-aid kit. I'm sure he uses that kit on himself sometimes—danger, pain, and injuries are just a part of his lifestyle, and most people in crime families like his don't like popping in at the local doctors or hospitals. So I'm not surprised he's so well-versed in caring for a little injury like my head wound.
I allowed him some trust, but I wondered…does Domenic trust me?
It seems impossible, considering I was scamming money from him when we met. He might trust me enough to keep a close eye on me while I work in his security department, but if he knew about our sweet little daughter, would he trust me to raise her well, or would he take matters into his own hands?
I don't know, and not knowing is what keeps my mouth shut.
But a big part of me doesn'twantto keep my mouth shut about Evelyn anymore. It's the same part of me that feels guilty that this dynamic, quiet, powerful man has no idea that he's the father of such a precious little angel. I've kept it from him to protect my little family, but Evie is technically his, too.
Despite how much I've fought it, Domenic and I have…bonded. Just a little. And obviously, I trust him some—at least enough to weave a needle through my skin, which is a lot. But just because we've bonded doesn't mean he doesn't see me as a scammer and hacker before he sees me as anything else. Certainly, before he sees me as being the ideal mother of his child.
But I could change that. I could win his trust, his regard…I could help him capture the Wild Seven, even. There's a lot I could do that could win over his confidence, and for the first time since he hired me off the bat, I'm tempted to use my shameful past to my advantage.
