Dominic: The Prince

by Mj Fields

  ***

  Valentina stays. She can’t resist. I have the place stocked with American processed junk food and ordered Netflix. I also had furniture delivered and the master bedroom is accessorized with lavender everything, her favorite color.

  I pull into Steel, early. Jase is waiting in reception.

  We shake hands. “Update?”

  “DeAngelo went in half an hour ago. Benito is in custody. Efisto is in the hospital.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Apparently, a gun happened. Look, Dom, Sabato is in custody--”

  “What, why?”

  “Well, that gun--”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “He did. Says it was self-defense. Zandor is there and waiting for the lawyer.”

  “Good, I should go, too.”

  “I called the others, told them to stay home. Nothing we can do until charges have been officially filed.”

  “Then, why are you here?”

  “Wanted to make sure you were okay with it all, show you support, you know.” Jase runs his hands through his hair. “I would be on a plane with you to Italy, but I can’t right now.”

  “The baby. I would like to meet her and see Bella, again. Hell I want to meet the other children too, three?”

  Jase smiles and nods, “Cyrus has two, and Xavier one.”

  I sit and think about family, how someday I truly want that. I want to be a father, like mine was.

  “Zandor is gonna go with you. Help you get things in order, change the locks, you know.”

  “I can do this myself.”

  “No, you doubted our loyalty, and I get it, but you won’t doubt it again.”

  “I need to do this alone.”

  ***

  Abe may get pissed, but I don’t care. I am gonna see her, one last time, before I head back.

  I stand at the foot of her bed, watching her sleep. Her mascara is smudged under her eyes, a telltale sign that again, I made her cry. I sit beside her on the bed and take her hand.

  “Laney,” I whisper, trying not to startle her. Her eyes flutter open and I press my finger to her mouth, so she doesn’t scream. I just want to touch her.

  She doesn’t move, she just looks at me.

  “I needed to see you before I go.”

  Still she says nothing.

  “Are you awake?”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “You start work in the morning.”

  She nods and sits up.

  “I have to go back to Italy.”

  “I know,” she says quietly, as she looks down.

  “Jules was out of line. I apologize for that.”

  She sighs, “You don’t owe me one. I slept with you within three hours of seeing you. I will own my mistake--”

  “It is NOT a mistake.” She doesn’t say anything and I feel panicked. “I want to stay tonight.”

  “I can’t allow that. I can’t, Dominic. I went there tonight thinking I was wrong. Knowing I should apologize, and she was there. You were with her. It hurt me more than it should have. I can’t.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I say, as I pull her against me. “I don’t want to hurt you. I didn’t know she was going to be there, Laney. I didn’t know you were going to be there, either.”

  “That’s just it.” She looks up at me. “I don’t want it either, I don’t want you to hurt. I don’t hate you because you want her. I get it—.”

  “I don’t want her. She served a purpose.”

  Her body tenses. “I’ve been down this road before. I wasn’t okay with it, then. I’m not okay with it, now.”

  “You’re confused. I haven’t touched her since you. She and I were working together on something. That project was completed this evening. She will be on her way now.”

  “Dominic, I don’t want to dislike you, please don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not lying. It’s a very long story. I will tell you everything you need to know, everything you want, tonight.”

  I can’t take not touching her, and she is pulling away.

  “Laney, look at me.” I hold her face in my hands and tilt it back. “We have something here.” I touch my heart and then hers. She whimpers when I hold my hand to her chest. “Fuck, Laney, don’t even try to deny it.”

  “I can’t--”

  I press my lips to hers and hold the back of her head, so she couldn’t pull away. I rub my lips across her cheek to her ear.

  “I thought for years that I couldn’t do a lot of things. Tonight proved otherwise. I am willing to work hard to get what I want. Right now, I want you. Do you see a man before you that will stop before getting what he wants? Do you think I will let you walk away from me, over a misunderstanding? Over Jules? ”

  Her breaths grow more rapid, a reaction to her desire: a desire for me, a desire that is matched by mine.

  “If you stay, you have to promise to give me space, not try anything. I want you, and right now, I would believe anything you say. But I want to talk some more. I need to know I can trust the words coming out of your mouth, not just because I want to be with you, because I want you so badly. If you were with her- ”

  “I already told you nothing went on. I can promise you, I’ll never be with her again.”

  “When you return to Italy don’t call me, don’t text, don’t message, don’t --”

  I pull back in anger, “Why!”

  “I want to heal. I want to know that I can get over someone without hopping on the next interested body. I went from James to you, a man I knew for all of five minutes. This isn’t who I am. I’m not a whore.”

  “If you’re going to be a whore, it will be with me, Laney.” She turns away from me. “Fuck, you’re not making this easy.”

  “Take it or leave it.”

  “What if I can’t? What if I can’t leave you alone? I haven’t been able to since the day I saw you in that damn casino.”

  “You’ll be across an ocean.” She holds her face in her hands.

  “It will take a lot more than that.”

  “No, it won’t.” She escapes to the other side of the bed and walks to the door. “You really need to leave.”

  “Fine. You have me on my knees here, Laney. I won’t contact you unless you need me.”

  She swallows hard as she stands and looks at me. Then, she walks to me slowly.

  Bellissima, fucking bellissima.

  She stands six inches from me, reaches over and pulls my shirt loose from my pants, then unbuttons me. I grab her waist; she pushes my hands away and starts unbuttoning my shirt. When she finishes, she pulls my pants and boxers down, releasing my painfully erect cock.

  When she starts kissing down my chest, I try to stop her. I know damn well, what she is doing. This is not what I want from her.

  “I’m your whore tonight, Dominic. You’ll have me on my knees, or you won’t have me at all.”

  Her eyes are mixed with sadness and determination. Those two emotions mixed are poison to me. I would rather she stick a knife in my chest than carry those emotions.

  “Laney, you are not a whore.”

  She looks up at me as she grabs my cock firmly. “Will you deny me what I want?”

  “Never.” Her mouth wraps around my tip, as she pumps me slowly.

  Her mouth is hot and wet, she sucks my tip and down my shaft, as far as she can, as her hand pumps up and down the rest.

  Her tongue caresses every inch of me. She never loses eye contact. I, sure as hell, can’t look away. When she sucks and pulls to my tip, she uses her other hand to stroke me. There is no tease about this; no part of my cock is left untouched.

  The rhythm is consistent as she plays me like a song. There is nothing I can say, if I try the words won’t make a damn bit of sense. She sucks and pumps me, all of me. Her tongue’s pressure is everywhere I want it to be. She’s watching me, studying my expressions, my grunts, my groans. She’s learning what I like, and realizing what it is before I do; because honest to God, I lik
e it all.

  I like the way she looks at me, the way she’s doing this for me. Not a dance, not needing me to tell her what I want, because she sees it. She sees it because she’s looking for it.

  There’s a hunger in her eyes, yet no words try to work me up. No fake moans or hums. It’s her hunger.

  Within minutes, I realize I am about to blow in her mouth. This is not me. I can last an hour if I want, but not with her.

  “Gotta…stop,” I growl.

  She closes her eyes and continues.

  “Gonna...come…” I hiss. She opens her eyes and looks up. There’s this smile in her eyes.

  “Last…fucking..chance. Oh fuck!”

  I should pull out. But fuck if I don’t want my cum living inside her. I want to know I marked her mouth and her pussy, like I know I did her heart.

  The first load hits her tongue and she sucks harder. Her tongue squeezes my cock and another load shoots off. I watch her swallow, as her red lips run up and down me. Her eyes beg for more.

  When I am empty, her mouth slides down me, and then those damn kisses caress from my tip, up my shaft, and back down again.

  She sits back on her heels and licks her lips.

  “That was amazing, Laney. God it was—perfect.”

  “I was a good wh--”

  I reach down and snatch her up, “You are not a whore.”

  “Right.” Her body trembles in my hands.

  “I adore you--”

  She pulls back, “I’m tired. If you’re staying, please don’t say anymore.”

  She climbs into bed and holds a damn pillow the way she has been holding me.

  I climb in next to her and curl my body against hers.

  “Let me make love to you.”

  “That’s not what we do. Please, not one more word.”

  It has been two weeks since I lay pretending to sleep, while Dominic laid petal soft kisses on the back of my head, as he whispered words in Italian, the language of love. The words didn’t feel like love, they felt like death. The death of our brief affair; an affair that left a scar.

  I went to work that following day. On day one I was given an office, a receptionist, an assistant, and immediately became a supervisor to all of the human resource managers in the New York City area offices.

  I sent one message telling him that regardless of how it all ended, I was glad I’d met him. I hoped he had a safe flight, and asked that he message me when he landed.

  When he landed he messaged,

  My flight was fine. Thank you.

  I didn’t respond. I didn’t look at Instagram. I hardly looked at my phone.

  I was busy the next five days with training on their computer systems, and learning policies and procedures. I was shuffled around meeting all of the upper management, taking lunches with my supervisor, and staying late, immersing myself completely into my new life.

  When I went back to Nikki and Abe’s, I smiled, talked for a few minutes, and went to bed. I didn’t change the sheets. Why? I was pathetic. I wanted to smell him.

  I had hoped after a week I would begin to stop thinking about him, when I allowed my mind to be quiet. How messed up is it, that I knew him a week and the effect still suffocated me?

  I received a phone call when I left work on Friday with a briefcase full of notes on things I could do over the weekend to keep me busy. My building had been sold and the new owner was willing to honor my lease. I would be on floor three. He said that furniture was being delivered today, and that I was welcome to move in over the weekend.

  Not that I didn’t love being at Nikki’s, but I needed to move on. It was awful that she reminded me of my time with Dominic. I would never tell her that, not ever, but I felt it when I was in her home. I hoped that would change in time.

  Nikki and Mel helped me move in. It really wasn’t necessary. I had very little to move. 57th Street, here we come.

  When we pulled up front I noticed there was a new look to the building. It appeared more residential and less commercial. There was an awning and new entry doors. It was nice that the owners took such great care of this gem. A diamond in a mass of super towers made of glass.

  We each grabbed a box and walked to the entry. We were greeted by a very large, bald man who opened the door.

  “I’ll take those,” he said with a slight accent. “If there is more we can store them in the second floor apartment, it is under renovation now, ma’am.”

  “Thank you--”

  “Franco.”

  “Thank you, Franco. The new management seems to be doing a lot to the building.”

  “Yes ma’am--”

  “Laney,” I corrected him. “Please call me, Laney.”

  “Of course.”

  “So the tenants on floor two had to move?”

  “New management ma’am. Floor one will be offices. The fourth floor is the only other occupied at this time. It’s safe, ma’am.”

  Safe? What the heck was that about? Was this man trying to freak me out? “That’s great,” I smiled.

  When we entered the apartment, I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that it came furnished; and beautifully furnished, at that.

  There was a massive area rug with raspberry, cream, tan and chocolate colors. A large, round, wooden dining room table was surrounded by striped chairs in complimenting colors and sat on top of the expensive looking rug. That side of the room also housed a desk and a large mirror, hanging on the wall opposite the large windows, filling the room with even more natural lighting. The windows were dressed with a valance, wispy sheers and a couple panels in cream linen, giving them a residential feel.

  Above the dining room table hung a crystal chandelier and recessed lighting was used throughout the rest of the space. The living room area housed a large U- shaped raspberry couch; it was deep and inviting. I was sure I would sleep here, more often than not. The chairs on either side were patterned, carrying on the same color theme but didn’t match perfectly. It made it feel like home. Above the fireplace, that hadn’t been there before, was a large screen television. A remote sat on the coffee table.

  In addition to the furniture, there were accents and accessories including throw rugs, lamps, and artwork.

  The bedroom was just as finely decorated. The king-size, cherry wood sleigh bed was covered in a chocolate duvet with white pillows everywhere. There were two dressers, both chest style. The room was the kind of room that begged to be slept in.

  The second bedroom was exactly the same except with raspberry bedding and window coverings.

  “Unbelievable,” Mel whispered. “I am living in a shoebox again and you landed this place. I am so jelly.”

  “I know right?” Nikki said with such enthusiasm it was almost too much.

  We started going through boxes, most were clothes and shoes. I love shoes. The two boxes left were a few towels and linens that I actually managed to snag when I moved out of James’s place, the first time.

  When we opened the cupboards they were already full of dishes, pots and pans, and glassware for every occasion.

  Inside the fridge was a bottle of champagne from the management company with a note, ‘Welcome Home, Laney.’

  “That is so sweet,” Mel laughed, as she grabbed three glasses from the cupboard.

  “The basket, oh my Lord, how did we miss the basket?” Nikki asked, grabbing it out of the corner of the countertop and setting it on the island.

  It was full of fruits, chocolate, crackers and cheese.

  “This is too much,” I said quietly.

  “It’s perfect. You have a job in New York City and a new home, that’s all yours. You worked your ass off at school. You deserve this, Laney.”

  Mel popped the cork and poured the bubbly. We sat on the couch, drank champagne, and ate chocolate.

  “Selfie?” Nikki asked as she snapped the first picture, and then several others.

  When she showed us, I was stunned, “Look at us. We’re all hot messes. Ponytails and no makeup. Don
’t you even post them.”

  “Too late,” Nikki laughed.

  Nikki and Mel spent the night. I wondered if Abe would be all right with it. She said there was a lot going on at Steel, and he had been busy all week. I wondered if it had to do with Dominic’s trip, but I wouldn’t ask. It was none of my business.

  We all ended up sleeping on the couch; well, we passed out on the couch watching The Hangover. How the hell we fell asleep was beyond me, but when I woke in the morning I decided it was this place. It was home.

  Things were looking up.

  Mel, Nikki, and I went to brunch. I insisted on buying. The relocation check I received was three thousand dollars more than I had anticipated. I even questioned it before cashing it. I was told my job description had changed, due to one of their employees being let go. With more responsibility came more money. I was able to pay three month’s worth of rent because of the luck I was now coming into.

  After lunch we went grocery shopping at a little farmers’ market. I was already in love with my neighborhood. It was quiet, friendly, and close enough to work that I decided I would walk on nice days.

  When they left at four in the afternoon, I decided to just sit and take in the quiet. It had been a long time since I was able to do that. I went from James’s place, to a closet sized dorm room with three people squeezed inside, to James’s family’s ranch, and then I ran into the beast, that was Dominic Segretti.

  Luck? I remembered thinking I was lucky that night. My luck had run dry; completely dry. I looked at my laptop and considered for a moment Googling Dominic, but then the new sensible me decided against it. This was my home. My new start and I was not about to open up Pandora’s Box and allow pain to seep in through these brick walls.

  My home, my fortress. Mine.

  I woke up in the middle of the night feeling anxious and I had no idea why. I had made it through the weekend. I actually laughed and had a good time. In six hours I would be back at work.

  I laid tossing and turning the rest of the night.

  After work on Monday I had decided to walk home. I almost made it by a hot dog vending cart, but the aroma pulled me to it. This was a good sign; I was hungry. I had to force myself to eat all last week. I picked at lunch when I went with coworkers because I didn’t want to answer questions about why I don’t eat. Simple, when I’m stressed I can’t eat. I’d always done it. After Daleah’s death I didn’t eat for a week. I drank water and pretended to have a stomach bug. When the school counselor talked to me, she said it was control I was seeking. I told her it wasn’t, I just wasn’t hungry and that was the truth. Counselors seriously piss me off. This is why you do this; this is why you do that. Can’t a girl just not want to eat? That, ‘clean your plate mentality,’ may be part of the obesity problem in this country.