by Lola Darling
“That’s our cue,” Emily says, dragging Callie into the back room. The delivery guy leaves.
We’re alone.
I stare at Dominic, still hurt. “You’re supposed to be at the party.”
“I need to be right here.” A muscle jumps in the side of his jaw. “We have to talk.”
“So talk.” I take a breath to calm my nerves. I can’t believe just a few hours ago I was on cloud nine, and now I don’t even know how to feel. I’m hurt, betrayed. But his pull on me is still going strong.
Dom looks tense. “What do you need to know?”
Everything.
I start with, “How long have you been divorced?” I ask, sounding calmer than I feel.
He doesn’t look at me. “A month or so.”
I think back. We met roughly a month ago…so, was he still married when I first slept with him? I feel sick. “That’s about the time we met.”
“So?”
“What do you mean, so?” I echo. “Were you still with her when I met you?”
I’ve been trying not to think that I was just an intern to him, just a fuck. It’s changed now, I know, but I still can’t shake that feeling.
Dom looks reluctant. “I don’t have time for jealousy, Juliet. Lillian and I were over a long time ago. She’s my past. And I need to move forward.”
“But in all the time we’ve spent together, you never once thought to bring her up?”
Dom is blank. “Why would I?”
Because that’s what people in relationships do! I want to scream it at him, but I don’t. He never promised a relationship. He never promised anything. My eyes sting and I know my composure is going to slip.
Then Dom softens. I see real regret in his eyes as he reaches to take my hand. “Juliet, Lillian was a hard time in my life. Everything about our marriage was…difficult. I wanted to put it behind me, start over. That’s why I didn’t tell you. You were a chance for a fresh start. To wipe the slate clean.”
His words strike through me, tugging at my heart. We both take a step at the same time, but he touches me first. I lean into the warmth of him, letting it chase away the pain and the doubt.
“I’d like to start over with you.” Dom says, cradling me to him. “Be my date to the gala tomorrow night.”
“You mean not as your intern?”
“My date, who also happens to be a brilliant intern.” He smiles.
He loops a hand around my neck and leans down to kiss me. It’s sweet and heated and leaves me breathless.
I pull back to catch my breath, realizing that I’ve crumpled the card in my hand. I show it to him as he slowly sets me down.
“You know, Rexford, this is the first time you’ve actually apologized to me.”
“Hopefully, I won’t have to do much more of that.” His smile is humble and apologetic and the lightness inside me feels like it has no end.
Apparently Dominic and I didn’t need Paris to be happy, just the dimly lit hallway in my crappy building.
“So, will you be my date?”
How could I refuse?
“Of course I will.”
I can’t wait to see how good starting over is going to be.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The gala is the social event of the year – just the way we planned it. People are lined up outside, press is everywhere. As Dominic and I get out of the limo in front of The Rexford, I hear the click, click, click of cameras, see the flash in the corner of my eye. I’m nervous, but I focus on him as we enter and head for the ballroom. He looks amazing in a fitted tux, with a green pocket square that matches my dress. It’s one slip of fabric, but leaves no mistake that he and I are together. For the first time, I’m not afraid to display what’s between us.
He doesn’t seem worried about it, either, as he keeps me intimately close to his side.
The grand lobby is flooded with Chicago’s society, mingling and perusing displays set up along the walls. Dominic heads to the middle of the room, but I pull back as something catches my eye.
“Look at this.”
A series of blown up canvases are artfully lined up on the wall, each displaying handwritten book entries from famous guests. I sourced them all after hours spent combing the old guest books Dominic loaned me.
The Rexford is my second favorite palace. -Grace Kelly.
That one is my favorite, followed by Al Capone’s scribbled signature taking up an entire page.
“The event is a hit!” Sheila from the PR company greets me with a socialite hug and an air kiss on each cheek. “These guest book entries and the blueprints from the original hotel were incredible ideas, Juliet.”
I’m elated and feel like I’m floating. “I can’t take all the credit. The team did great work.”
“We did. I hope we get to work together again soon.” She raises her champagne glass in a toast and moves away to speak with someone else. I know I should be humble, and I am. But I’ve never had such a sense of accomplishment before and yeah, I did do a great job. I’m proud of me.
When I see the appreciative way Dominic is looking at me, I know he’s proud of me, too.
He puts a hand on my lower back and guides me to a quiet alcove. “Sheila is right. You did a great job. Your ideas are fresh and you’ve shown me that you’re not afraid to work hard.”
I flush under the compliment. “Thank you.”
“There’s an opening in the corporate office,” he continues. “You’re a perfect fit.”
I blink because I’m sure I heard him wrong. Just to be sure, I eye my champagne glass. Nope, still full, so I can’t blame it on a buzz.
“Dominic, are you offering me a job?”
“Yes.”
I make a disbelieving sound and hold my glass tighter to keep from dropping it. I’m two seconds away from throwing my arms around him, or busting out The Carlton happy dance. This is incredible! “I don’t know what to say.” I stammer.
He doesn’t move toward me or touch me in any way, and I realize he’s giving me space to make my choice. It’s not much of a choice at all.
Everything I’ve dreamed about since starting college is coming true. A job at The Rexford is my ultimate goal, and he’s giving it to me weeks before my internship is even over. Sure, I nailed ideas for the gala, but is that really enough to earn a coveted position here? Or is there another reason?
I look down, not sure how to ask. “Are you doing this because of us?”
He gives me a look. “I would never risk the company over personal feelings, Juliet. You’ve earned this.”
“Okay,” I say, finally starting to believe him. “Yes. Yes, I accept!”
I step into him, needing the searing heat of his kiss.
“There you are, big brother,” Xander interrupts us. He’s dressed in a flashy navy pinstripe suit, his white shirt open over his tanned skin. “Am I interrupting?”
“Seriously?” Dom growls. “What do you think?”
I know the brothers have a complex relationship, but I can’t help but feel sorry for the younger Rexford. He seems lost, disconnected, yet he has a spark of interest that might flame if Dominic would give it a chance.
If Xander is hurt by Dom’s attitude, he doesn’t show it. “I just wanted you to know, Blaine Prescott is here.” He nods to the ballroom, where Prescott is sauntering over to greet us.
“I gotta hand it to you, Rexford. You put on a good show.” Blaine’s words are a little slurred. He puts an arm around Dominic’s shoulders and smiles big for the photographer lurking nearby.
Dom looks icy. “I might take that a compliment if you weren’t drunk.”
“You’re right. It is the alcohol talking.” Blaine’s smile gets bigger as another photographer joins in. Dominic’s carefully schooled expression is at least believable, not to mention that he looks model-perfect. “This is a lovely attempt, but you have to realize that nothing can save you now,” Blaine continues. “This place is a dead man walking.”
“Can you gentlemen shake han
ds, please?” Another photographer has joined in. Jesus, it’s like a school of sharks over here.
“No,” Dominic says firmly. “We’re done. Thank you, gentlemen.” He breaks away from Blaine, who drains his glass and looks around, presumably for a waiter. He’s a bit unsteady.
“Actually,” Dominic calls out to one of the photographers, “you may want to follow Mr. Prescott this evening. You never know when he’ll give you that perfect, front-page ready shot.”
The orchestra begins to play as servers in crisp white coats begin weaving through the room to escort people to their seats.
Ah, dinner time. Thank God, because I’m starving.
People mill around us to find their tables. It’s a flurry of gorgeous gowns and handsomely dressed men, but I barely see any of them. Dominic’s profile is to me and he’s striking, tall and in command. He really does take my breath away.
I take his arm, and when he looks at me, I feel a surge of tenderness and warmth like never before. I was falling for him in Paris, but this is stronger, more complete. It’s not falling anymore; I’m all the way there.
I’m completely.
Undeniably.
In love with Dominic Andrew Freaking Rexford.
“I’m liking this look on your face.” Dominic finally cracks a smile. “Do we need to go somewhere private?”
Yes! I think he’s teasing, but the heat in his eyes sways me toward not teasing. Suddenly, he scowls and looks over my head.
“What the fuck is she doing here?”
I glance behind me to see Lillian coming toward us, stunning in floor-length white silk. There’s a man behind her wearing a business suit and a scowl, briefcase tucked under one arm. Lillian stops in front of Dominic.
“You always did dress up nice.” She touches the lapel on his tux and his eyes turn dark. “We need to talk, Dom. Alone.”
Nerves start to creep through my body. The room is beginning to hush and I’m aware that people are looking at us. I don’t hear the click of cameras, but I’m sure photos are being taken. Her very presence is threatening to overshadow the event. Who wants elegance when they can have gossip?
“Whatever it is, you can say it right here and then go,” Dominic almost growls.
“You really want to do this here?” she retorts. “Air your dirty laundry in front of everyone?”
Dom clearly thinks better of it. He looks to me. “Go ahead and start dinner without me. I’ll be right back.”
“No,” Lillian says, with a strangely satisfied smile. “She should come, too.”
What’s going on? I follow them out of the ballroom, and down a hallway to a side room. Tension edges every line of Dom’s body, but he doesn’t even look at me.
“Well?” he demands, the minute Lillian’s lawyer closes the door. “What the hell is it that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
Lillian drops her friendly smile. “You violated the pre-nup. Our settlement is off.”
“What the fuck do you mean?” Dominic looks furious. “That’s bullshit, and you know it!”
Lillian sighs. “Temper, Dominic. Really. We can be civil about this, at least.” She nods to her lawyer. He opens his briefcase and takes out a small laptop and a manila folder.
“You may recall we had an infidelity clause in the contract,” Lillian continues. “If you cheated on me, the pre-nup would be void. Remember?”
Dom glares. “As much as I grew to dislike you, Lillian, I never once cheated on you.”
“I beg to disagree. And I think a judge will be on my side.” She opens the folder and dumps it upside down. A stack of black and white pictures flutter onto the table.
I catch a glimpse of a hotel bar. A woman, leaning in close to Dominic.
Me.
In an instant, I know what’s going on, why I’m here in the middle of it all.
It’s because of me.
The night we met. The job to flirt with him and get incriminating photos. It’s all been leading to this! The honeytrap…the reason the photographer was following him that night. He was still married.
I grab the edge of the table to keep myself upright as Dom reaches for the photos and slowly spreads them across the table.
My face is everywhere.
Dominic and I at the whiskey bar. Him kissing me, leaning in close. My flirty smile.
“How did you get these?” Dom’s voice is tight, pained.
“Someone was in the right place at the right time,” Lillian shrugs. “Conveniently.”
“This was a fucking set up?” Dom growls, looking at me in disbelief. “You set this up?”
I can’t answer. I’m frozen in place, hugging my arms around myself. Tears sting my eyes. I want to deny it, but I can’t. And it’s not just that I betrayed Dominic. He betrayed me, too. I didn’t realize when we met that he was a married man. He’d told me no one was waiting at home for him! He’d lied to me. And he’d kissed me. And that wasn’t all we’d done that night. My stomach clenches at the memory.
“It’s safe to assume this didn’t just end in the bar,” Lillian smirks. “I’m right, aren’t I?” she asks me. “You slept with him, before our divorce was final. Bye bye, pre-nup. Hello, division of assets.”
“Get out.” Dominic points to the door.
Lillian’s still smiling, gloating at her ill-won victory. “We still have to discuss—”
“I said, GET OUT!” His voice roars with anger. Lillian backs off.
“We’ll be in touch,” she says, gesturing for her lawyer to follow her out. The door slams behind them. We’re alone.
Oh God.
I force myself to look at him, but the furious betrayal on his face is worse than I ever imagined.
“Were you sent to set me up?” he demands. “That night at the Drake, is that why you were there?”
I swallow, then whisper my guilty confession.
“Yes.”
“Fuck!” Dom slams his fist into the wall, cracking the plasterboard. Blood runs from the cut on his knuckles, and I want to go to him, comfort him, but he’s shaking with rage. I’m frantic with the need to tell him everything, to make him understand that what started as a trap turned into something more. I’m even willing to forgive his trespasses against me, because I understand everything so much better now—his unhappiness, his loneliness, his secrets. But I need an apology, too. We have to talk this over.
“Dominic, please, I can explain. It’s not like that.”
“You mean, I didn’t just get fooled by a whore?”
The word is a slap in the face, and I’m rendered speechless.
He turns and storms out of the room. I’m frozen for another moment, but then I rush after him. “Wait!” I grab his arm, pulling him back to me.
“For what?” he demands. “So you can tell me more lies? Fuck, after everything that’s happened…I trusted you!”
“I’m sorry,” I say, keeping my voice even. “I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. Just like you couldn’t tell me that—”
“Do you know what you just cost me?” he interrupts. He rakes a hand through his hair. “To think I fucking cared about you.”
A loud hum goes through my head and gets louder as all the anguish in his expression turns cold and ruthless. He looks at me like I’m nothing.
“Get out.”
I can’t believe this is happening. It can’t be over, not when I love him like this.
“Dominic—” I start.
“Just stop. It’s over, Juliet.” He turns away from me. “We’re done.”
“But—”
“Go. Get the fuck out of my hotel and don’t come back.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
It’s been two days since Dominic discovered the secret I’ve been hiding from him: that the first night we met, I was hired to get compromising photos of him. Two days since he threw me out of the Rexford hotel and swore he never wanted to see me again. Two days of me wallowing in a heartbroken mess around my apartment until my roommates must be
sick of my forlorn crying.
“We’re going to need a Sherpa to come navigate this mountain of Kleenex.”
Emily brushes wads of tissue off my bed before sitting next to me. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and take the steaming mug she offers. I think I smile. I don’t know. My face is so tight from dried tears, I feel like I’ve had botched plastic surgery.
“What’s in the mug?” I take a sniff. “Smells good.”
“One of my secret tea blends.”
“Made with unicorn tears and rainbows?”
“Of course. And also honey and green tea to soothe your throat.”
Her soft voice brings fresh tears to my eyes. I don’t deserve her kindness. At least, that’s how the sick, twisted sensation in my gut makes me feel. Because of me, Dominic may lose control of the hotel. I deserve to be miserable.
Plus, I miss him. A hell of a lot.
A plopping noise makes me look down, and sure enough, I’m crying in my tea.
“Hey,” Emily takes the mug and runs a hand down my hair. “I know it hurts, Jules.”
“Understatement.” I lean against her shoulder. “It feels like he ripped out my heart and stomped all over it then left it bleeding in the gutter with all the Rexford’s dirty garbage.”
I see him every time I close my eyes—the blend of shock and anger on Dominic’s face as his ex-wife, Lillian, revealed everything. The way he looked at me when I admitted I helped set him up. How he smirked when I tried to confess my feelings for him.
In that moment, I lost everything. My internship, my career, and the man I love.
It couldn’t get any worse.
“He won’t call me back,” I admit. “I’ve left messages.” It dawns on me that I haven’t checked my phone in a half hour. I scramble to get my cell, but Emily stops me.
“He hasn’t called, Juliet.”
“How do you know?”
She just shakes her head, and I crumble a little more.
“He won’t call, will he?”
She tries to look supportive, but I can tell, she doesn’t believe me. And if my ‘bright side only, glass half full’ friend can’t find it in her heart to lie, there’s really no hope for me. My heart cracks again. Dominic Rexford has washed his hands of me. How can I blame him? I helped his ex-wife strip him of control over his own empire. Thanks to me, he’s lost everything that he held most dear.
