by M. S. Parker
Penelope must have read it as my Please…make a move smile because she came around the desk and leaned a hip against it. “I’ve missed seeing you, Dominic,” she said.
She lifted a hand and, instinctively, I froze.
Most people would recognize when somebody didn't want a physical touch.
Penelope, however, was one of those people who couldn't imagine why somebody wouldn’t want her touch and she continued on her course, stroking her hand through my hair. I tolerated it because I refused to let her see me jerking away and recoiling. That would look too much like weakness.
Penelope was one of the women who fell outside my normal categories for women. I wouldn’t fuck her, but I hadn’t initiated a social relationship, so I hadn't explained my rules for either of those two categories.
My rules were simple in either case. For social events, I made sure the groundwork was set before we went anywhere. This isn’t love. I’m not going to fall in love with you. I’m not interested in a romantic relationship so I’d like to avoid things that go with them. I’ll hold your arm as we go to and from events, but beyond that, let’s keep all physical contact to a minimum.
Penelope seemed to think I might be a catch or some bullshit.
That wasn’t going to happen.
Perhaps it was time to explain that.
But as I rose from the chair, my thoughts wandered, shifted, then slid to Aleena. If she’d reached up and brushed my hair back, I wouldn’t mind. Those little casual touches others engaged in…well, she didn’t do them, but I was starting to wish she would. I was starting to miss the fact that she didn’t.
I was starting to regret things and miss them and want them. And it would only get worse, I knew, because as I’d already admitted to myself, I was coming to need her.
Two seconds from explaining the ugly facts of Dominic Snow to Penelope Rittenour, I stopped.
The phone rang before I could think things through a second time and I moved to answer it. I almost didn’t when I saw my mother’s name flash up on the display, but in the end, I closed my hand around the receiver and lifted it to my ear.
If I didn’t talk to her, eventually, she might try to contact Aleena.
I wouldn’t subject Aleena to that.
“Hello, Mom.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Penelope move into the seat behind my desk. I set my jaw and gave her a hard look. She smiled innocently at me and crossed her legs.
Damn, she was annoying. Sucking in a breath through my teeth, I turned my back.
“Darling. How are you?”
“I’m well enough.” I didn’t bother to ask how she was.
“I…” After a moment, she tried haltingly to break the silence. “I assume you’re…”
“Aleena still works for me if that’s what you’re fumbling around to ask, Mom. Nothing has changed. If you’re disappointed…” I let the words trail off. I wouldn’t lie and offer a false apology. And there was no way in hell I was going to tell her the one thing that had changed.
“You’re still angry with me.” She sounded almost amused.
“What clued you in?”
“Really, Dominic,” she said, her voice chiding. “There’s no reason for you to be so rude.”
“Of course.” I nodded and gazed outside. “That’s your domain, isn’t it, Mom?”
Her harsh intake of breath was audible. “Dominic, I am sorry if I upset you.”
“And her?” I asked, gazing restlessly out over the city skyline.
“I…whatever do you mean?”
“I wasn’t the one you insulted, Mom.”
“Well. Of course. Listen, Dominic. I think this would be best if we discussed it in person. Can we…can we talk? Please?”
Closing my eyes, I blocked out the entreating tone of her voice. I knew better.
“Dominic, I feel terrible about Friday. I made several missteps and I’d like to…well, make amends. Can you please come? It’s been so long since the two of us have even had any real time together.”
I mentally snorted. She made missteps, yeah. I almost pointed out that her missteps had mostly been with Aleena and both of us had screwed up there. But one thing was certain. My mother needed to understand that she would never make those missteps with Aleena again. And as much as I hated her machinations, Jacqueline St. James-Snow was my mother. She’d been the one to stand by me, to make sure I got help, care…everything. After.
I didn’t like having a wall between us even if our relationship was stilted at best.
“Fine, Mom,” I said softly. “When?”
“Tomorrow night?” The hesitant tone in her voice was unlike her.
Maybe she was trying.
“Okay.” I realized I was nodding to myself. A few moments later, I turned and stared at Penelope. She was still in my chair.
“That’s my desk,” I pointed out.
“Oh.” She gave me a wide, startled look. “I’m sorry…I just…well. I was trying to give you some privacy, Dominic.”
I glanced pointedly at the big doors that opened to the outer offices and then back at her. She colored slightly, but said nothing.
“What can I do for you, Penelope?” I asked, fighting the urge to sigh.
Penelope beamed at me.
“I think I want to try the service out.”
There are some things a rich bastard can do and not worry about.
There are some things a rich bastard can do and the shit will hit the fan and he can shrug it off.
The one thing a rich bastard can’t do it is tell a client—no, potential client—like Penelope Rittenour that I’d love to have her and then pass her off to one of his associates.
Especially as she’d made it clear that she’d come here specifically looking for me. I’d tried to be diplomatic and explain that in order to give her the best service, I’d really need to give her to my best people, but she hadn’t gone for it. I was one hell of a businessman and I knew it. I could sell shit to some of the savviest people out there and make them think they were buying diamonds, but Penelope hadn’t gone for it and in the end, I’d agreed to work with her. The last thing I needed was for her to go out there and start muttering to her friends that the company wasn’t delivering what I’d promised. Her friends were the clientele I needed in here, which meant I needed her happy.
Which meant I might have already screwed myself.
She wasn’t looking for a match through the company, though, and I knew it.
She was looking for a match with me.
After I’d escorted her to the elevator, I locked myself in my office, not speaking to either Amber or Aleena.
Hands behind my back, I stared outside, but I didn’t see the skyline of the city where I’d lived all my life and I couldn’t admire the view I’d chosen to make my own when I’d set up my offices.
No, mentally, I was seeing two women.
Two beautiful women.
The one I’d just escorted from my office and the one who was only a few feet away, in my outer office.
One, I couldn’t stand. I could barely tolerate Penelope’s presence. She was shallow and vapid and vain and could hardly hold a conversation that didn’t revolve around fashion and society, which was pathetic, because I knew she had excelled in college, but she’d focused all that brainpower on things she felt mattered. Clothing and the charities she felt were worthy of attention…I think right now it had something to do with a rare orchid I’d never heard of. Last year, it was knitting sweaters for penguins. When I’d asked her about the penguins, she’d stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.
The next time I asked her about the orchids, I had no doubt it would be the same.
She’d asked once if her family and mine could work together on a charitable cause and I’d said I’d consider it, then I mentioned I was looking into partnering with a group I’d heard of in Africa. I’d showed her some of the information I’d had. Her face had tightened.
Starving children with blo
ated bellies was too unseemly for Penelope Rittenour. She’d asked if perhaps I’d be interested in arctic foxes.
No. I hadn't been interested in arctic foxes.
Penelope Rittenour was beautiful and from one of the most powerful families in the northeast. The Rittenour’s could trace their roots back for centuries, and she was happy to tell you that.
She’d make the perfect society wife.
A faint laugh echoed from the outer office and I closed my eyes. Bracing my forearm against the window, I rested my brow against it and let my thoughts wander to the other beautiful woman…the one I couldn’t stop thinking about. The one just a few feet away. The one I was coming to crave like a drug. The one I wanted to see bent over before me, stretched out beneath me, standing in front of me with her arms bound overhead.
Aleena.
I could come to need her—was already so close to it.
I’d forced myself to keep my distance this week and it hadn’t lessened that need at all. I’d dealt with it, tolerated it. I’d even visited my club briefly, although it had done nothing for me. The boredom I’d felt too often these days had only intensified and even the thought of touching one of the Subs who visited, looking for a brief visit from an unattached Dom like myself, had left me feeling faintly disgusted.
“Stop it. You don’t owe her a damn thing,” I said, anger burning inside me.
I couldn’t owe her. That would mean I’d committed or let myself come to need her or care more than I’d let myself allow. We called it a relationship, but we hadn't set any terms.
There was a knock at the door and I lowered my arm, took a moment to smooth my suit—and my expression.
Without turning to the door, I said, “Come in.”
“Dominic?”
“Yes, Ms. Davison?”
There was a pause and I heard the stiffness in her tone when she responded, “Mr. Kim is on the phone. He wanted to thank—”
“Please send the call on through, Ms. Davison.” I turned toward the desk and flicked her a look. “I’m having dinner with my mother tomorrow. There’s a wine she enjoys…I can’t remember the name. Fawna might have it in her notes. If she doesn’t, give her a call. She’ll remember it.”
I reached for the phone.
“Have I done something wrong?” Her voice was quiet but steady. “You told me I had to be honest with you. Don't I deserve the same courtesy?”
I should have known better than to get involved with her. She wouldn’t cling. I already knew that. But she wasn’t going to quietly fade back into the background, either. She would call me on my shit.
Fawna had warned me about getting involved, but the warning had come too late. I'd already been in too deep.
“No, Ms…” I sighed and looked at her, saw the dull flush of color on her cheeks, the pain flashing across her eyes. “No, Aleena. My mother wants to make amends. And things are complicated. I need to think.”
“Of course, Mr. Snow.” She inclined her head and turned to go. There was no animosity in her words, but no warmth either.
She knew I wasn't being completely honest.
“Aleena—”
“Mr. Kim is waiting,” she said. Then she closed the door.
11
Aleena
I’d found the wine Dominic had requested.
He’d taken it with him when he left for the office that morning and I’d stayed home to work in the home office.
We’d fallen into something of a routine and Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays were the days I normally went into the office with him unless there was something specific going on and he requested that I go in too.
Since he hadn’t made that request, I’d already busied myself at my desk, dressed in my ‘home’ work attire, hoping he wouldn’t make any changes to our ‘routine’ and he hadn’t.
I was glad.
When the door shut behind him, I kept working a good twenty minutes, what I considered my safety zone, because he sometimes forgot things when I didn’t go in with him. No, he often forgot things.
It hadn't taken me long to understand just why the man had a personal assistant. He was sharp as a whip, but he had too many thoughts inside his head and no sense of organization. I’d once mentioned it and he’d shrugged it off. That’s why I had Fawna…and now, you. I'd known enough kids back in Iowa who had ADHD to figure that was probably the case.
Once those twenty minutes ticked away, I let myself breathe out a quiet sigh of relief and leaned back, covering my face with my hands.
I hadn’t been able to drop my guard at all since he’d made that announcement yesterday.
His mother wanted to make amends?
“Like hell.” The waspish note in my voice didn’t go unnoticed by me, but fuck it. I figured I had every right to feel waspish. And bitchy. And pissed off. Maybe she did want to, but that wasn't the reason Dominic was acting so stand-offish. He wasn't being honest with me. Even after he'd made me promise to be that way with him.
Feeling like I was going to come out of my skin, I got up and started to pace. Back and forth, I went across the office.
There was work waiting for me on the desk, but I’d been unable to sleep most of the night, so I’d taken care of probably a third of the things in my inbox already. Dominic’s ridiculous social calendar was now updated, save for a few things I needed to confirm with him. I knew better than email over those.
The phone rang and I drifted over to look at it, considered not answering it, but I had come to take my job too seriously. I couldn't let my personal life interfere. With a sigh, I picked it up.
“Snow residence, this is Aleena. How may I help you?”
There was a faint pause, followed by a sniff.
I rolled my eyes. Spare me.
“Aleena.”
The way the woman drew my name out told me everything I needed to know. I didn’t even look at the caller ID to see if I was correct. I did, however, hit the button that would allow me to record the conversation. Call me suspicious, but I didn’t trust her.
“Ms. Rittenour. How are you?”
She didn’t even have the courtesy to respond.
“Fetch Dominic.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” I sat down in his chair and fought the urge to breathe in the scent that immediately surrounded me. Picking up a pen, I started to sketch out Penelope Rittenour—as an Afghan hound. The long, gleaming coat…er…hair, the elegant long face…
She’d make a lovely Afghan hound, and she’d probably be more pleasant too. Those were beautiful and very sweet dogs.
“I need to speak to Dominic,” she snapped. “Put him on the phone now or I’ll have your fucking job.”
I pulled the receiver away and eyed it narrowly. Then I put it back to my ear. “I’m uncertain as to how you can have me fired simply because Mr. Snow isn’t here at the same time you called, Ms. Rittenour. I’d be happy to take a message though.”
Her hiss of breath was audible. Then, coolly, she said, “Give me his cell phone.”
“Now that would likely get me fired. I’m afraid I can’t pass out personal information without Mr. Snow giving me the authorization first.”
“I’m a close personal friend.”
“Then I’m certain you understand that he’s a very private man. Once he tells me it’s okay to give you his cell phone number, I’ll be happy to do so, Ms. Rittenour.” I added a little diamond collar to the dog’s neck and diamond earrings. She had Penelope’s big eyes and thick eyelashes and maybe I was being catty, but I made sure that snide light shown in her eyes. I used to love to do caricatures, but I never had the time anymore. This was fun.
“Dominic is going to hear of your rudeness…what was it, Aleena?”
“Yes, Ms. Rittenour. If you like, I’d be happy to call him as soon as we hang up and let him know about our discussion.” I paused and then added, “His home office is set up to record all incoming calls. Shall I play the conversation back for him to ensure he knows everythin
g we discussed?”
There was a long, weighted pause and then she said, “You think you’re smart, don’t you?”
“Of course not, Ms. Rittenour. I’m just trying to be helpful.”
She hung up.
I leaned back, stared at my image of Penelope as an Afghan hound. If I were trying to be accurate, I would have drawn her as a succubus. Out to drain the life out of whatever man she’d set her sights on, and it so happened to be Dominic she’d chosen as her prey. I shouldn't care, not after he was making it clear that, no matter what we'd said, he was going to keep me at arm’s length.
I pulled the sheet of paper free, and then, to be safe, I tugged out the next two and put them in the cross-cut shredder.
That done, I sent a text to Dominic.
Ms. Rittenour called. She would like to speak with you and she’d also like your cellphone number. I’m afraid she’s not happy with me. I wouldn’t give her the number without your permission and that made her angry. Shall I give her the number? Please advise.
I double-checked to make sure the phone call had been recorded. I’d told a white lie. He didn’t record all calls. I think it was illegal to record things without permission, but he did get a lot of business calls—those he did get permission for and it was simply because he didn’t like forgetting details.
I suspected he also had less than pleasant phone calls. Perhaps calls like mine, where people tried to levy threats against him, although I don’t know who’d be stupid enough to threaten a man like Dominic. Blackmail, maybe. The ability to record anybody that stupid would be useful.
I’d never asked. I hoped he wouldn’t be mad, but if he was…
I sighed.
His response came back before I made it back to my desk.
Don’t worry about Penelope. I’ll get back with her when I see her or she can call the office and leave a message here. And no, please don’t give her my number. You did the right thing. Thank you.
