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He's a domineering, bossy alpha don.
And I like it. A lot. I also like him far more than I want to think about.
When we finally get inside the house using the multiple security codes Domenic gave me, it's no less impressive than the outside suggests. Everything about the space is no-nonsense and minimalistic, yet luxe. It's spacious, with enough floor-to-ceiling windows to fill the place with bright sunlight. The kitchen is massive, a massive cerulean pool glitters in the extensive backyard, and the guest rooms Domenic told me about are right where he said they'd be.
It's similar to a mother-in-law suite and connected to the rest of the mansion through a long hallway. There are four guest rooms, two bathrooms, a kitchenette bigger than our entire former apartment, and a living room overlooking the pool. All the furnishings are ten times nicer than anything I own, but I'm still looking forward to moving our stuff in here to make it feel less…well, foreign.
Not that I don't like the luxury surrounding me, but I feel entirely out of place. My family has had to scrimp and scrounge my entire life, barely making ends meet. Domenic's house oozes money and class. I worry about breaking something because I cannot afford to replace this kind of stuff.
My mom looks like she's walking in a dream. I feel a bit of the tension in me calm when I note that, except for some confusion, she seems excited to be here. I put Evelyn down for her nap in one of the guest rooms, fidgeting nervously the entire time my mother and I work to get what little we have out of my car and into our new space.
Domenic is at the casino, of course. I kind of wonder if he won't come here at all while we're staying here. After all, I know he sleeps in the suite set aside for him at the casino hotel when he's too busy to drive out to this place. And I feel strangely disappointed to think he might just do that until we get out of his hair.
Not that I want him to meet my mom—or Evelyn. God, if he sees our daughter and puts two and two together, what the hell am I going to do? I'll just have to hope he keeps being a workaholic for however long it takes me to find a new place. Maybe he won't even venture to this part of the house, and we'll never have to cross paths here.
Though I find that unlikely.
I'm back in the mother-in-law suite's living room, setting down the laundry hamper full of odds and ends when Evelyn wakes up and toddles in. Her curly dark hair is wilder after she naps, her cheeks pink, and she's sucking on her knuckle as she observes her new surroundings with wide, dark eyes. She hurries to me, and I scoop her up, laughing when she buries her face in my neck.
"Not sure what to think of all this, cutie pie?" I kiss her forehead and try to tame back her hair, poking her nose with mine. "We'll just be here a bit. Look! See the pretty pool? Yeah, mommy's not letting you anywherenearthat. Can you sayokay?"
Evie makes a high-pitched grunting sound and grabs at my necklace with wet fingers.
I sigh. "Okay. We'll get you to a speech therapist soon, cutie."
"Loren!"
My mother's panicked hiss makes me turn to shield Evelyn defensively as she rushes into the room from the hall with eyes bigger than dinner saucers. "What? What is it?"
"There's a—a man here." She fans herself from her run, looking flustered and panicked at once. "I just bumped into him by accident on the way in. He was in the kitchen and asked if we were getting settled in—I forgot to introduce myself entirely. I was so surprised—he'shandsomebut so intimidating, and I just—"
She's forgetting to breathe again. I soothe her and ask her to take Evie with a reassuring smile before I hurry down the hall myself, wringing my hands.
It's not even lunchtime, so why did Domenic take a break and come here? Was it to check in on me? Surely not. I've seen his softer side, but he's a busy man, and there's absolutely no reason for him to check in on me on top of his over-the-top generosity so far.
I hesitate at the end of the hall, trying to compose myself before I turn the corner to enter the sprawling living room attached to the kitchen. But just as I step out, Domenic rounds the corner, and I gasp as we smack into each other.
Immediately, he has me steadied up against his hard, powerful body, his hands on my hips. I swallow when he doesn't move to release me, simply holding my gaze captive with his dark eyes. A hint of tattoo peeks out over the white collar of his suit, and I try and fail to forget kissing my way all over that tattoo only yesterday.
I can't think about him like that. Not if I'm trying to maintain some distance. Right now, I need some distance because his proximity makes my heart pound.
"S—sorry," I manage, extracting myself. I don't know why I'm such a flushed, awkward mess right now. Maybe it's because I usually see him in my work clothes, at the casino, and not with my hair falling half out of a messy braid in old cutoffs and a T-shirt that keeps slipping off one shoulder.
Domenic tucks his hands in his suit pockets as he regards me. "I didn't see a moving truck."
"We fit everything in the car just fine," I shrug, then quirk my lips to one side. "By the way, nice crib. This place could have its own zip code. Or township. You haveveryexpensive taste in furnishings—did you just give your interior designer free reign to your credit card, or what?"
He arches a brow. "I decorated it myself."
"Wait, really? Why?"
"Trying to convey my tastes to a decorator who doesn't know me would have been a complete waste of time and money. I'm particular."
A giggle escapes me before I can help it, and I'm pretty sure I see his lips twitch. "I think the right word ispessimistic. But, you know, for someone who clearly doesn't put his faith in others, you sure do have a very bright, happy little…er, big home. Though I absolutely cannot imagineyoubrowsing through Hobby Lobby," I add with a snicker at that mental image.
Domenic glances over my shoulder down the hall, and something about his expression changes ever so slightly. I look back, and my throat goes dry.
Evelyn is back there, peeking around the corner as she sucks on her fist again. My mom has fixed her rumpled dress and hair, but her round cheeks are still pink from her nap, and she's cooing something unintelligible. She toddles off quickly, probably back to see the rest of the suite she's been too shy to check out.
