by Cora Kenborn
And just because I’m not Alexandra Romanov doesn’t mean I don’t have talent. We all have crosses to bear. Noah Braddock is more than a pretty face, and I’m an asshole.
“You’re right.” I cover his hand with mine. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to hide who you are. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you and Brent.”
He watches me silently for a moment. “Somehow I think you do.”
More than you know.
Smiling, I raise my glass. “To hiding.”
Meeting my glass, he clinks them together. “Touché.” For a brief moment everything is calm. But then it all goes to hell. “Shit,” Noah says, glancing over my shoulder.
“What?”
His eyes narrow. “Don’t look now, but I think a photog snuck in.”
Of course, I look, and when I do my heart somersaults in my chest then free falls straight out my vagina. “Oh my God.”
Dominic.
How the hell did he find me? Not only that, how the hell did he get in here?
I shove my chair away from the table, knocking over crystal and rattling silverware. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
I don’t wait for a response before tearing across the restaurant in a blind panic. I realize on my second wrong turn I have no idea where I’m going. By the time I stop, it’s only because I come to a dead end in a hallway that leads to nowhere.
“Great. Now what?” Trapped in a corner isn’t ideal, especially when distant footsteps start getting closer.
And closer.
Frantic, I start turning door knobs to what I assume are supply closets, praying one of them works. “Come on!”
Finally, one turns, and just as I get it open, I’m pushed inside and shoved against the wall. Even in the dark, I don’t have to ask who it is.
“What are you doing here, Dominic?”
His strong hand slides up my neck, pausing as his thumb strokes under my chin and along my jaw. “I came to offer my congratulations to the happy couple.” His words become clipped as his grip tightens. “After all, you’re the talk of the town.”
I can’t breathe with him this close. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re damn right I don’t,” he growls, backing us both against the wall. “Eight hours, rook. What happened in eight hours to change things? I know I walked out on you the other night, but I have my reasons, all of which I planned to tell you before you decided to hop on pretty boy’s dick.”
A surge of anger rushes through me, and I struggle against him, but it’s useless. His hold is too strong. “I haven’t hopped on his dick, thank you.”
“Good.” His voice is low and rough, like the rumble of a summer storm. “Because the thought of it makes me crazy. It makes me want to go out there and break every bone in that fucker’s face.”
“Dominic…”
“You’re mine, Angel,” he heaves, grinding his hips against mine. “Angel Smith. Not Alexandra Romanov. My Angel. Every damn inch of you.”
It’s wrong. So, so wrong, but I can’t help it. I want him, and he knows it. Before I can stop myself, I wrap my arms around him, and he claims my mouth in a violent, hungry kiss. Dominic’s possession has always been rough, but there’s something in his touch tonight that’s different. Frantic. Almost as if there’s a ticking clock for both of us.
Bright light spills into the closet as the door cracks open. “Alexandra? Is everything okay in here?”
Noah. Shit!
I try to pull away, but Dominic tightens his hold, only breaking the kiss long enough to turn his head. “Walk away, Braddock.”
The door opens wider, and Noah’s blond head pops into view. “Alexandra?”
“Hey,” Dominic growls. “I’m talking to you. Don’t look at her.”
Noah grins. “You must be Dominic.”
Finally, blood rushes back up to my brain, and I regain common sense enough to bend down and slip under Dominic’s arm. Before he can argue, I spread my arms between them like an alpha male crossing guard. “Enough!” Turning toward Noah, I add, “Thank you, but I’m fine. Yes, this is Dominic, he’s, well, he’s…”
“Your Brent,” he says with a smile.
“Who the hell is Brent?” Dominic roars, barreling into my palm. “Rook, so help me God…”
Noah just grins. “Listen, I know a back way out of here. Why don’t you two enjoy dinner on Silverline’s tab, and I’ll catch a cab.”
My jaw drops. “Are you sure? People will see us.”
“I think we’ve done enough dancing, Pinocchio.” He gives me a pointed wink. “Time to cut the strings.” Slipping through the crack in the door, he disappears back down the hallway.
Dominic crowds in from behind. “What the hell was that?”
I can’t help but smile. “That was the first drop of many salty tears.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Angel
“So, let’s hear it, Alexandra,” Dominic says, placing both palms on the table.
“Hear what?”
“The story with pretty boy back there.” His hand tightens around the now empty glass. “Must have been hard slumming with me for so long. At least you traded up.”
I have on four-inch heels. If I extend my leg, I can bury one in his dick. “This bad boy routine is getting old. If you have something to say, then say it.”
His smirk fades. “Damn it, Ang—Alexandra… fuck. We’re not doing this again.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.
I sigh and close my eyes. “Noah is just a friend.” Opening them slowly, I expect to see retaliation but surprisingly meet with a serious stare. “Besides, I’m not exactly his type.”
Screw it. He’s coming out anyway.
Dominic is silent for a moment, then a wolfish grin spreads across his face. “He’s gay.”
I don’t have to confirm it; my shocked expression does it for me.
But I also know what he does for a living. How he has built an empire on uncovering secrets and destroying reputations. And because I know the reach he still has, I lean forward. “So help me, McCallum, if you breathe a word of this before he does, I’ll expose our little arrangement and drag you down with me.”
“You’d sacrifice yourself to hurt me? For him?”
“If you forced me to, yes.”
The scowl on Dominic’s face turns from irritated to deadly, and my pulse races. What the hell is wrong with me? As pissed as I am at him, I still have the insatiable urge to bury my face in his neck and lose myself in his arms.
“So, Rosten’s got you doing softcore porn with a co-star who bats for the other team?”
Until he opens his mouth.
Reaching behind me, I grab my purse and push my chair back. “At least Noah knows how to treat a woman. I’m a twenty-three-year old heiress of the wealthiest family in Hollywood. I don’t have to sit here and justify myself to a drunken shithead like you.”
With fire swirling in my chest, I stand to leave until an inked hand grabs mine, holding it against the table. When I try to pull away, his grip tightens.
“Get your hand off me before I kick you in the balls,” I order in between clenched teeth.
Dominic’s fingers tighten. “No.”
“I’m going to—”
“You aren’t going to do anything but sit your ass back down and listen.” He jerks me forward. “And you won’t kick me in the balls. Know why, rook?” My eyes drill into him as he lowers his voice to a raspy growl. “Because you want what they’re attached to.”
“I hate you.”
“So, you keep saying.” Releasing my hand, Dominic sits back, motioning with a flick of his wrist for me to do the same.
Muttering under my breath, I quietly slip back into my seat, folding my arms across my chest. As the waiter deposits another drink onto the table, he raises it into the air.
“To fucked up situations all around.” I watch as the liquid disappears down his throat. Placing the glass on the table, he shifts those pierc
ing blue eyes back onto my face. “I need you to stay away from Luciano Ricci.”
Finally, I get the truth. “What’s going on, Dominic?”
“I have a complicated past, rook. It’s not pretty, and it’s not safe. Especially for you.” He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t even be here. I should walk away and never talk to you again.”
“But you won’t.” I know this as sure as I know my own name. Which admittedly, isn’t the best analogy.
“No, I’ve told you before, I’m not a good man. I’m selfish. Too selfish to put your safety above my needs.”
I’ve never turned a blind eye to who or what Dominic McCallum is. Yet here I sit, reaching for every shredded piece of attention he deems me worthy of.
So who’s the real selfish one?
Breathy words tumble past my lips. “Who are you, Dominic McCallum?”
He rubs his hand across his stubbled chin like he’s appraising me. “I’ll tell you just as soon as you tell me what’s in Phoenix.”
My spine stiffens, every defense I have ready to man the line. “I’m sorry?”
“At your apartment I asked you why you chose Chula Vista of all places to live. You said if everything had worked out, you would’ve gone to Phoenix.” He sits back and stares at me. “So, what’s in Phoenix?”
“Wow, you sure know how to kill a mood, don’t you?”
My blood pressure kicks up at his callous laugh. “Not going to work, rook. I let you get away with changing the subject one time. I don’t fall for the same shit twice.”
Lifting my wine, I buy as much time as I can by sipping slowly. It’s acidic and tart just like the truth sitting on my tongue. Finally, I lower the glass. “You have your secrets, and I have mine.”
He scrubs his palms down his face. “Why are you so against trusting people?”
A valid question, but not one easily answered. “You of all people should know the answer to that,” I mumble.
“You’re never going to stop punishing me for that, are you?” That cocky sneer of his ignites again, making my stomach tighten. “Is that what tonight was all about? Did you go out with that pretty boy actor to get back at me? Well ten fucking points, cupcake. You win.”
My heart skips a beat. “So, you admit it.”
“Admit what?”
A smile blankets my face. “You’re jealous.”
All traces of arrogance fall from his face, and he leans forward. “Is that what you want to hear? Fine, maybe I am jealous. Maybe seeing him touch you made me want to cut his hands off and shove them down his throat. And maybe I am an asshole, but I’m an asshole who can still afford to take his girl to expensive places just like any Oscar winner.” He gestures around the restaurant.
A sizzle shoots down my spine. “You called me your girl.”
A flash of red sweeps across his cheeks. “Yeah, so what?”
“Is that what you think?”
Dominic’s shoulders stiffen. “Don't read into anything. I don’t do labels, rook.”
A throaty chuckle rumbles in my chest as I lean across the table and brush a wayward strand of inky black hair out of his eyes. “You love me, Dominic McCallum. Why don’t you just admit it?” I’m half joking, but I find myself holding my breath for his answer.
Moments pass in silence before he stares into my eyes, pinning me with a mask of resolve. “Because I don’t. And I can’t. Ever.”
I stare at the floor a moment, then lift my gaze to his, my stomach sinking to my toes. “I should go.” Grabbing my purse, I head toward the back exit Noah mentioned. I don’t stop until I’m outside, staring into the night sky as if it holds all the answers to my brand-new, fucked-up life.
“I’ve never known you to walk away from an argument.” Dominic appears behind me, the faint scent of whiskey faltering my steps.
I bite my lip and turn an impassive gaze on him. “I’m not walking away from an argument. I’m walking away from you.”
I have to rip whatever is between us off like a worn Band-Aid. It’s not just Rosten’s threats that stand between us. It’s the constant dreams. It’s the static. The scratching. The zigzag lines that are becoming more and more frequent. It’s the voice in my head whispering words I don’t understand.
And that damn room at the estate. The one I sit in night after night because it’s the only one in the whole godforsaken mansion that quiets everything. The place where I count away the monsters as I wait for the nameless boy with frozen eyes to appear out of the shadows.
But I don’t tell him any of that.
“I care too much about you to do this,” I whisper. “You have no idea the fire we’re playing with or how badly you could get burned.”
Dominic’s features harden. “Fire doesn’t scare me.”
I shake my head before turning on my heel. “It terrifies me.”
I barely have time to react before his strong arms swing me against the side of the building. I open my mouth to tell him to stop when he pins me against the bricks and slams his lips against mine. Relenting to the fire welling inside of me, I melt into him.
I finally break away. “No, stop...”
His voice dips low with want as he pulls back, his lips resting against mine. “Is that what you really want? Because if you do, say it again, and I’ll walk away. But we both know you want me to fuck away whatever shit you’ve got bottled up in your head.”
“Dominic…”
“Just say it.”
I press myself as far back into the wall as possible. My body possesses no self-control around him, and it pisses me off. “I hate you,” I whisper, shivering as his hands slide down to my hips.
“Hate me. I don’t care as long as you come home with me.”
“I’m still mad at you.”
He trails a hand down my cheek. “I don’t remember asking.”
I slowly nod as he slides his hand down my arm and locks his fingers in mine. As we walk away from the restaurant all I can think of is that this is a mistake.
And it’s going to cost us.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dominic
If you ever get the chance to ride down Sunset Boulevard with a Hollywood starlet on the back of a Harley, I highly recommend it. Under the disguise of a helmet, no one knows who she is, and you feel like a god.
A god that should get a medal for waiting this long to fuck her.
“You’re so tense.” Angel releases her hold on my waist, her voice scattering across my neck from behind. “Are you all right?”
Nothing about tonight is all right. I’d planned to tell her a watered-down version of my past with Luciano. But somewhere between sitting down at the table and opening my mouth, my plan went to hell. We started arguing, and before I knew it, words became lust. I still haven’t figured out when the tables turned.
However, even the most patient man has his breaking point. Mine was her walking out of that restaurant.
Without saying a word, I turn off the ignition and wait for her to get off first before swinging my leg to the concrete. Narrowing my eyes, I stare at her, starting at her fuck-me heels and working my way up to that black skirt and fancy blue shirt.
Angel shifts nervously. “Dominic?” She fidgets with the diamonds dripping from her neck. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Why? Because I warned her outside that bar in Chula Vista that this would happen. She asked me what I wanted from her. I told her everything. And here I am, taking everything.
I stalk toward her, and she steps back. “Wait, Dominic, I’m not so sure—”
“I am.”
Another step back. “But Rosten will—”
“Shhh.” A smirk creeps along the corner of my mouth as I back her against the door and cage her between my arms. If it weren’t for the neighbors, I’d fuck her right here against the door. Instead, I stick a boot between her legs and pin her arms, my body flush against hers.
Angel pulls at her restrained arms, and unable to move them, kicks her heel
backward against the door. “Men are such controlling assholes.”
I push against her, rubbing friction between our bodies. She rewards me with a full groan. “Women are such manipulative bitches.”
Our eyes meet, and a moment later, we’re a tangle of lips, mouths, tongues, and hands. My fingers dive into her hair, weaving through the mass of dark waves to cradle her head.
She tastes incredible. Sweet and dangerous—a contradiction that fucks my mind up and sets it on a path of destruction. It’s a taste that makes a man want to protect her then do dirty, unspeakable things to her.
One hand drops from her face to her toned ass. It fits perfectly in my palm. But the skirt pisses me off, so I slide my hand underneath it to find bare skin.
No thong.
Fuck. Me.
Our kisses become frantic and teeth begin to clash as our breaths becomes choppy. As I dig my fingers into her skin, Angel draws my bottom lip between hers and bites down.
Shit, that’s it. I’m done.
Growling, I unlock the door, kick it open, and pick her up by the back of the thighs.
She wraps her legs around my waist, and as I carry her to my bedroom, she whispers against my lips, her voice hoarse from our hard kisses, “I still hate you.”
“Good,” I say, kicking my bedroom door shut.
Chapter Thirty
Angel
You can justify just about anything if you want it bad enough.
The logical side of me knew we crossed the line the first time we kissed. But again, justification made it easy. He’s a safe oasis nestled in the eye of chaos. Even though he can be bitter, there’s still beauty in his pain.
He’s cruel and bitter, yet still beautiful.
I stiffen, flung like a rag doll into a storm of static, scratches, and zigzag lightning. I can’t move as images flash through my mind.
