DOM: Alliance Series Book Three (53)

I swallow. “When I emailed my boss yesterday about the move, I said I’d come in for the Wednesday morning staff meeting.”

“That’s fine,” Dom says like I’m a kid asking to borrow the family car.

“Rob can’t come up to the office with me,” I add. It’s going to be a big enough deal that I moved here on a whim. I can’t possibly explain a round-the-clock bodyguard to my coworkers.

“He won’t,” Dom says, but I’m not sure he means it.

He stares into my eyes, and I feel like I’m looking at old Dominic again.

I shake my head. “For the record, I haven’t forgiven you. I understand why you did what you did. But it was shitty, Dom. It’s all super shitty. And you should have warned me about the funeral. You should have warned me about everything.” All the feelings from earlier war inside me. “I don’t deserve this.”

“You don’t.” Dom slides his hands up from my shoulders until his thumbs are lightly pressing against the front of my neck. “You deserve better.” He strokes his thumbs up, then down. “But you’re mine now. And I’ll always keep you safe. Someday you’ll accept that.”

He starts to drop his hands away but drags his thumbs down my body in the process.

I’m too slow to react, and his thumbs brush over my pebbled nipples through the fabric of my bra and dress, showing that he knows just how much I’m affected when his body is pressed against mine.

I move to shove his hands away, but he’s already stepping back.

“Now quit distracting me.” He puts his hand on the door handle. “I have work to do. I’ll be late, so order dinner when you’re hungry.”

“And when you say work…?” I cross my arms back over my chest.

Dom’s lips pull up. “I mean hunting.”





CHAPTER 29





Val





I pace past the bed. Again.

It’s almost midnight.

Dom has been gone for ten hours, and I don’t know if this is normal behavior for him or if I should be worried.

My hands ball into fists, making the tender skin on my left ring finger throb.

“This asshole,” I hiss, shaking out my hand.

It finally sank in, around the time the armed guard in the hallway handed over my bag of takeout, that I’m really in it. Like, really in it.

I stare at the four Dominics circling my finger, making a point to avoid looking at the Til Death below my nail.

I can’t believe he did this to me.

Seriously, can’t believe it.

And I can’t believe I’m not more angry about it.

Really, I’m more embarrassed than anything, because, eventually, I’m going to be back out in public, and it looks so out of place on me that I’m sure every person I pass will stare at it.

Maybe if I get a sleeve tattoo and paint my nails black, it won’t stand out so much.

After Dom left me here, I stood in the living room for a weird amount of time, then gave up trying to feel comfortable in the giant space and came back up to the bedroom.

I showered off the funeral. Then I got into my comfiest sweatpants, and because it looked soft, I pulled a Yale sweatshirt off one of Dom’s hangers and put that on, too.

Then I sat on the bed with my laptop and caught up on work. And Dominic still wasn’t home.

So then I sat on the overstuffed chair in the corner of the bedroom and googled Dominic Gonzalez.

Mostly photos of him at big city events. One article title speculated about his involvement in the Chicago mafia. But overall, there was surprisingly little.

So, of course, then I did a search for The Alliance.

Which led to a text from King asking why I’m looking them up online. Which then led to me slamming my laptop shut and turning my phone off.

And now, with nothing left to do, I’m pacing. Wondering if there’s a way out of this.

I spin around and pace back across the room when a sound stops me.

Was that the front door?

I tiptoe toward the bedroom door and lean into the opening to listen.

Footsteps.

All I hear are footsteps echoing through that giant-ass main room. But how the hell am I supposed to know if it’s Dom or someone else?

While you’re here, you’re safe.

I back away from the door.

The footsteps are on the stairs.

It has to be him.

I keep backing up, around the foot of the bed and over to the side I slept on last night.

Torn between looking for a weapon and faking sleep, I’m standing there, frozen, when Dominic appears in the doorway.

He stops when he spots me, and I let out a rough exhale.

“You scared me,” I accuse.

He grins. “That mean you’re happy to see me?”

I narrow my eyes. “I was worried it might be an axe murderer. So, sure, I’m glad it’s you instead.”

“Next time I’ll…” Dom trails off, and I follow his line of sight to my chest. “Hmm, I like that.”

I pluck at the fabric. “You like me covered in your baggy clothes?”

“I like you covered in my alma mater.”

My eyes widen, and I look back down at the sweatshirt. “You went to Yale?”