by K Larsen
Make me laugh-quick
Amanda: Ahhh....spite baby, roast beef, clam strips
Hahhaa.... spite baby.... yes. mission accomplished.
Amanda: You’re welcome, everything ok?
No.
Amanda: What's up
I want Dom but I hate him. WTF is wrong with me?
Amanda: Nothing.
Liar
Amanda: Ok lots...but wanting him isn't one of them. Love ya babe.
Yeah, ditto.
* * * * *
He bellows at me and I cower. “I hocked it, Daniel. IT’S GONE,” I shout back. His fingers dig into my shoulders, no doubt leaving bruises, before he starts violently shaking me. “You HOCKED IT? YOU HOCKED THE FAMILY RING?” he screams, shaking me more. I snap my eyes closed and pretend I’m anywhere else. His hands release my shoulders abruptly and as my eyes snap open I feel myself lose my balance. Stumbling to find my footing, I miss the next step and tumble. His hate-filled eyes watch every hit that my body takes to the cold hard stairs before I crumple at the bottom in a pile of skin and bones.
I fall off the couch as I wake up trembling. Tears stream down my face and I can't catch my breath. I force myself to take deep breaths and calm down. It was only a dream. I grab the remote and click the TV off. The blue notification light blinks on my phone; swiping the screen, a new text message appears:
I’d like to apologize. -Dominic
How’d you get this number?
I hit Send and sluggishly walk upstairs to my room. I plug the phone in, set it on my nightstand, and snuggle into my bed. Closing my eyes, I’m surprised when my phone vibrates next to me. It’s two in the morning.
Dom: I’m a man of many resources.
Apparently.
Dom: Tonight didn’t go as I’d planned. (Huh. Interesting.)
Whoa that was close
Dom: What.
I almost gave a fuck.
Dom: Tell me you accept
Accept what?
Dom: One date.
No.
Dom: One date to prove I'm not the monster you think I am.
Why me?
Dom: It’s late. Sleep on it.
I am definitely too tired to keep arguing with him, the man never gives up. I set my phone to silent, put it back on my nightstand, and roll over. The rest of my night is spent tossing and turning restlessly. Around five I give up and relocate to the couch with a cup of coffee. I nap on and off until almost ten before calling Sawyer and letting him know that I won't be in. He sounds worried and asks if everything's okay. I lie and tell him I just don't feel well and if Dom calls to book him sometime later this month. He grumbles about it but agrees. He asks again if he’s needed at home and I assure him that everything is fine and to keep all his appointments for the day before hanging up and drifting back to sleep.
I feel weightless, like I’m floating. Strange. I’m warm and something smells so good. I sigh. “I knocked first,” a voice says.
“Okay,” I mumble and nuzzle deeper into the delicious smell. “Smells good,” I yawn and hear a deep chuckle. I feel the bed under me and blankets come up around me. My bangs are pushed back and lips hit my forehead. “Love you, muffin,” I murmur and curl into myself. I swear there’s an irritated grunt before silence envelopes me.
The sound of shattering glass violently rips me from my nap and I sit up immediately.
“YOU’RE A SICK FUCK. GET OUT,” Sawyer bellows. I hop out of bed and run down the stairs calling for Sawyer. I skid to a halt in the kitchen. Dominic is standing toe to toe with Sawyer. His bottom lip is bleeding and fat. What is he doing here? I push between the two men and drive them apart by their chests with my palms.
“What the hell is going on?” I snap as they continue their macho stare-off.
“You tell me,” Sawyer hisses. “I just walked into our home to find him here.”
“What?” I say stunned. I blink twice slowly. It doesn't help clear anything up.
“I stopped by to make sure you were all right after calling the shop to make my next appointment,” Dom explains.
“How do you know where I live?” I ask in horror. “Never mind,” I bite out as he starts to answer, “I don't want to know.”
“How did you get in?” Sawyer growls.
“The door was unlocked. I knocked first.” He looks tired yet determined. I gasp as things fall into place. “I knocked first.” “Okay,” I mumble and nuzzle deeper into the delicious smell. “Smells good,” I yawn and hear a chuckle. I feel the bed under me and blankets come up around me. My bangs are pushed back and lips hit my forehead.
“You carried me to bed?” I ask, shocked. He nods unapologetically.
“Why? Why the hell would you come in if I didn't answer? Why would you carry me to bed...what the hell is wrong with you?” I breathe, feeling really freaked out. “This is my home. You have no right.” Grasping the entirety of what he’s done, my body starts shaking forcefully. Sawyer’s arms wrap around me protectively and I melt into his embrace. Dom’s eyes cloud and get dark as he watches us. Who is this guy? Sawyer kisses the top of my head but it doesn't do much to calm me. Creepy McCreeperton is standing in front of me and strangely I still want to hear him out.
“Clara, would you walk me out?” Dom bites out. Sawyer’s arms squeeze tighter. I feel torn. This guy is quite possibly insane but the attraction I feel is overwhelming. It consumes me, makes me feel irrational things. I inhale deeply trying to make sense of it.
“I guess,” I reply, and pry Sawyer’s arms off me to follow Dom outside. Stopping at his car, he turns to face me, his expression pleading.
“I didn't mean to scare you.” He reaches for my hand but I step back.
“I don't know why you think you can just bully your way into my life but it has to stop. I’ll call Miller, he can finish the color for you. I can’t do this, do you understand, Dom? I want you to leave me alone,” I say firmly. Well, as firmly as I can muster at the moment--which truthfully doesn’t sound very firm even to my own ears. His face is so gentle and soft and sweet-looking right now.
“Clara, I’m not usually like this. You make me cross lines...boundaries cease to exist around you.”
“You don't know me, Dom. This is insane! You can't just look at someone, get turned down, then take that as an invitation to invade their life,” I cry out. He hangs his head. It’s as if he’s warring with himself. I know Sawyer’s just a scream away and it helps keep my fear neatly packaged for the moment.
“I haven't been turned down before,” he mumbles. “I thought playing hard to get was part of your game.” Dominic baffles me. Sawyer adores me. Amanda and Marg try to keep me in line and I live for Allie. My whole life’s a clusterfuck.
“My game? Playing games isn’t my style,” I bark.
“I can see that and I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped any lines,” he huffs.
“Any lines?!” I laugh “You’ve overstepped so many lines there aren't any left,” I say with snark and step back another step. This dude is way past crazy.
“Clara, you’ve moved in and made my thinking crowded. I can’t get you out of my head. Please,” he asks dejectedly and taps a finger against his head.
“Please what?” I snap, gaping at him.
“Just give me one evening. A chance to have a proper date. If you hate me after that I’ll bow out,” he pleads. I can’t help but laugh maniacally as my eyes pop out of my head. This guy really is nuts.
“One date and you’re gone?” I ask unbelievingly. I must have misheard him.
“Yes. I’ll even put it in writing if you’d like,” he offers, adding to the ludicrousness of the moment.
“I would like it in writing and signed,” I find myself agreeing. “One date, asshole, then you’re gone--forever. Are we clear?” Right, now I’m the insane one.
“Crystal.” He grins. What have I just agreed to? I am one seriously messed up individual.
“Friday night, pick me up at six, we stay in Virginia,
” I clip. He starts to protest but quickly shuts up when I glare at him.
“I’ll clear my schedule,” he submits as I storm back into the house without a backwards glance. Sawyer yanks me roughly into his arms as I cross the threshold. “Are you all right?” he asks, concerned.
“I’m fine. I agreed to one date.” My voice is wobbly as I tell Sawyer, all the adrenaline suddenly rushing out of me.
“YOU WHAT?” he booms, throwing me back to look at me.
“He said one date then he’d disappear. He said he’d put it in writing and I have a feeling with him I might need a contract to hold him to his word,” I explain.
“Jesus, Clara. I can't believe you right now,” he spits.
“I saw an out and I’m taking it, what's so wrong with that?”
He shakes his head at me in disgust.
“I won't protect you from him. You’ve made your bed,” he says. The hurt in his eyes is unbearable as he stalks upstairs and slams his bedroom door shut. Why is this happening to me? I dig my sports bra from the hamper and toss on my running gear. Maybe a long run will clear my head. I really need something to clear my head. Obviously it’s not functioning correctly today.
Crumble
I’m stunned at Sawyer’s resolve. He hasn't spoken to me since Dom showed up at our house three days ago and it’s torture. I miss him. He even brought Kylie over. He never brings her to our house. I’ve never actually witnessed him this angry with me before. Four years together and Dom is the one who sends him over the edge. He certainly seems to have that effect on me, or maybe it’s like that with everyone. I’ve managed to bury myself in appointments to get through the days and--with the help of some Tylenol PM--sleep through the nights.
It’s Friday and I’m a nervous wreck. I haven’t heard a peep from Dom since agreeing to this date. Not a text, not a phone call, and no surprise visits to work or my home. It relieves me and irritates me. He causes all kinds of shit then I agree to one date and he drops off the planet. I don't think I’ll ever understand this guy. I pull in the driveway at five and as I trudge up the front steps I notice a gorgeous arrangement of lilies next to a large box. I sigh and shuffle the gifts through the door with me. The card with the flowers simply reads “Dominic.” I set the bouquet on the counter and open the box. There’s a stunning scarlet red silk backless gown inside. Checking the tag I find that it’s my size. I bristle at the audacity of his gift. I am perfectly capable of picking out my own attire and there is nowhere in town that warrants a dress like this.
I shower, dress, and just to spite him I tug my cowboys boots on under the gown. I leave my hair hanging straight down my back. I give myself a light smoky eye look and paint my lips to match the dress before heading down the stairs.
“Please, Clara. Be careful tonight,” Sawyer says, resting against the door jam of the entry way. There is no love lost in his voice, only pleading, as his gaze drags down my body. I’m happy he’s talking to me at all.
“I promise,” I say softly. The knock at the door interrupts our moment and Sawyer disappears into the house without another word. I open the door to Dominic looking as handsome as ever. He grins as his gaze rakes over me.
“Clara. You look stunning,” he greets. I flush.
“Uh, thanks,” I mumble at him.
“I believe you require this,” he says, handing me an envelope. I open it and find a typed contract instructing one Mr. Napoli to have no contact with me after our date should I request it. It’s signed and notarized. I chuckle at the absurdity of it all before placing it on the side table near the door.
“Are you ready?” he asks, and I nod. He takes my elbow and leads me to the car. So formal. Something's wrong when you regret things that haven't even happened yet, and I do. I already know everything's going to change. I can feel it in my bones.
“Where are we going?” I ask as the driver takes us through town.
“Hampton,” he says.
“That’s five hours from here,” I say in disbelief.
“Not if you fly,” he smirks. Moments later we pull onto a private airfield where a Napoli-branded plane waits for us.
“This is a little much, don't you think, Dom?” My tone is snide and I’m definitely not impressed at the ludicrous show of wealth.
“Perhaps,” he retorts as he escorts me from the car to the plane.
“Dom, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this. I’d rather stay close to home.”
“I’ll take you home whenever you request. I promise,” he offers, but it doesn't really make me feel any better. His fingers graze the exposed skin of my back and I shiver at the burning sensation left in their wake. His eyes are trained on the exposed skin and they scream desire. I can’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. The plane is spotless and comfortable. Dom sits across from me as we make the forty-minute flight.
“How was your week?” he asks.
“Busy. Yours?” I respond curtly.
“There was an incident in the Miami club that I tended to but other than that it was relatively quiet,” he shares.
“What happened at the club?” I ask.
“It came to my attention that the manager was embezzling. I took care of him and found a replacement.”
“Wow. That sucks,” I mutter.
“It’s the nature of the business. Night clubs don't attract the most upstanding citizens,” he answers.
“I suppose not,” I sigh and look out the window, feeling on edge about this date. The sky is clear and beautiful. All the houses look like tiny toys as we fly above them.
“Are you going to be so distant all night?” he asks. I look back to him and feel bad. He seems to really want this opportunity to prove himself and I’m not being very open to this whole thing.
“I’m sorry. I’m just...unsure of you,” I explain.
“You don't know me.”
“That line sounds familiar,” I retort.
“Touché.” He grins and I can't stop myself from returning the smile.
We touch down near eight o'clock and my stomach growls loudly, making Dom laugh and promise to feed me soon. Another black private car picks us up and drives us twenty minutes to a marina where we are dropped off. Dominic is a perfect gentleman the entire trip so I try to loosen up for both our benefits. His charcoal suit clings perfectly to his frame, and his dark hair--styled, but not to perfection--makes me want to run my fingers through it, and I find myself lost in the movement of his lips as he speaks. They’re full and expressive and I want to taste them.
“Clara?” he calls softly.
“What?” I say, snapping out of my thoughts.
“This is us.” He gestures to a large yacht to our right. Well, hot damn.
“Get out.” I breathe in awe. He chuckles deeply before escorting me onto the boat. I hoist up my dress on the steps and a deep roar of laughter echoes across the water.
“What?” I ask.
“Nice shoes,” he chuckles.
“Oh. Right,” I laugh and drop the gown.
“Do you wear cowboy boots with everything?” The corners of his eyes wrinkle with his grin.
“I wore them out of spite tonight,” I admit as we enter the dining room. “To stick it to ya for assuming it was acceptable for you to dress me.”
“Ah, so that was wrong of me?” he asks.
“I think more like presumptuous.”
“I’ll remember to ask your permission going forward,” he laughs.
Dinner is waiting for us and the smell of it makes my mouth water. We sit down to enjoy the meal as the boat pushes from the dock and starts motoring. The dining room is done in rich dark colors that scream masculinity and luxury. It’s impressive, but a little much if you ask me. The steak, potato, and asparagus meal is delectable, however--cooked to perfection and I’m really enjoying it.
“So tell me about Sawyer,” he prompts as the server refills our wine glasses.
“There’s not much to tell,” I shrug, stuffing my face with
the mouth-watering goodness.
“You live together, yes? That’s something,” he teases.
“Sawyer, Allie, and I are a family. Yes, we live together, we work together, and occasionally we sleep together, but we’re not dating.”
His eyebrows furrow together.
“That’s a strange arrangement,” he finally says. His tone is clearly disapproving.
“I guess, but it works for us.”
“I’m sure Allie loves having her dad around,” he murmurs.
“He’s not her father,” I say around a fork full of mashed potatoes, and instantly wish I could retract my statement.
“I see,” he says shortly. “Where is her father?”
“Dom, let’s talk about something else, all right?” I suggest lightly.
“How many men are in your life? That’s all I wanted to know.” His question takes me aback and I feel my hackles rising.
“Excuse me, but there aren't men in my life. Sawyer is my best friend and outside of him there’s no one. Were you asking how many men I’ve been with? Do you need me to get tested for you? Because I’m sure a man with your sexual prowess has numbers that triple mine. You’re probably a walking case of gonaherphasyphilaids,” I blurt. He sits stone-still before bursting out in laughter.
“Clara, are you always on defense?” he laughs. “And what is gonaherphasyphilaids?”
“Apparently you ask stupid questions. It’s a combination of all the gross STDs: gonorrhoea, herpes, syphilis, AIDS,” I explain. Wow, things that should never come out of your mouth in the company of the rich and famous just happened, I note to myself. His laugh is infectious. He throws his head back like a little kid and roars. I love it. He’s dazzling when he laughs.
“Maybe so,” he says and gathers himself. “It seems as though Sawyer considers you his. I was simply wondering if Allie’s father was another guy I’d be stealing you away from,” he explains.
