by Nikki Bloom
16
Nicolette
Sitting in my new house and having dinner with my brother and my husband was a trip. It was everything I didn’t know how to dream about. Still, my anxiety wouldn’t let me live. It latched on to Dom’s dismissiveness when Morgan had tried to give us some privacy and made it a bigger thing than it was.
Insecurities truly are the devil.
Watching Dom laughing and joking with Morgan as they regaled me with stories of their teenage selves, he looked pretty content. But his words, they kept echoing in my head.
This isn’t The Notebook.
Such an innocent throwaway statement and it had my heart contracting with pain as if he’d repudiated our marriage.
I tried to distract myself as best I could. “So are you guys going to finally tell me about your gang?”
Dom’s eyebrow quirked in that way that had him looking superior to everyone around him. “Gang?” He looked at Morgan, brow furrowed. “We have a gang?”
Morgan shook his head as if he had no idea what I was talking about. “Not that I know of.”
I threw the pillow at Morgan. “C’mon, you know what I mean. When you were in New Orleans. You guys were in a gang, right?”
Dom and Morgan gave each other a look before turning back to me with that odd synchronicity that was kind of freaky to watch. “It’s called an MC, not a gang,” Dom said.
I waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever. How’d you guys end up in one? I didn’t even know you were interested in motorbikes, Morgan.”
My brother laughed at me. “Oh, you think it was like, ‘wow, cool bikes, can we ride with you?’” He stared at me in stupefaction as if I was the most clueless thing in existence. I squirmed a bit in embarrassment, but I persisted because I truly wanted to know about that period of their lives.
“So what was it like?”
Dom shrugged. “We needed cash, and working for the Lost Boys seemed a glamorous way to get it… we were young, stupid, and reckless.”
“Desperate too,” Morgan added, his face somber. “Dom to leave, and me to get you back.”
I opened my mouth to say something but found that I was too choked up to speak. I stood up, excused myself and ran to the bathroom. I shut the door and sunk to the floor, letting a few tears out. Morgan’s words had brought back those days in stark relief. If Morgan had been desperate to get me out, I’d been no less frenzied to leave Eugene in my rearview.
I made sure not to stay too long; I didn’t want them to think I was freaked out.
After I washed my face, I went back to the living room, a smile pinned on my face. Morgan stayed late, only leaving when Dom told him it was past our bedtime. Living next door meant that he didn’t have to drive, but still, he’d barely had anything to drink because he was always on duty.
That old spark of resentment was back, and I realized that it annoyed me because it reminded me of Eugene and Morgan feeling he had to be forever alert in case something popped off. His whole stance with Dom reminded me constantly of that. Dom said they were friends but then worked him for all hours of the day and night. Morgan didn’t have a life that didn’t revolve around being Dom’s ‘bodyguard.’
He stood to escort Morgan to the door and I crossed quickly to the bedroom, closing the door behind me. I considered locking it but only for a moment. I didn’t want Dom asking me why I was upset. I stripped and put on the fluffy soft robe that was hanging behind the bathroom door before filling the tub with hot water. Dom had it all: bath salts, scented candles, even soft jazz emanating from speakers on the wall.
Might as well take advantage.
I closed the door, slipped out of my robe and sunk into the water with a battered copy of the Count of Monte Cristo to keep me company. I did my best to relax and enjoy the ambience and the bath, shut my mind down and stop thinking about Dom. It was harder than I thought it would be.
A soft knock on the door startled me and before I could say a word; the door opened and Dom poked his head in the room. He grinned at me. “I was wondering if you needed anything. Wine? Coffee? Chamomile tea?”
I opened my mouth to ask him why he cared but changed my mind mid-thought. “Uh, yeah. I’ll have some wine.”
He nodded, his head disappearing from the gap in the doorway. He very considerately closed the door behind him, so the cold air from the bedroom didn’t harsh my mellow.
He was back quite quickly with a glass of sparkling white wine in a tall glass. He also had a bowl of grapes. It was all very Cleopatra.
I thought he’d hand me my wine and go away but no. He sat himself on the side of the bath and began to feed me grapes. I refrained from rolling my eyes. “This is a little cheesy.” I could not resist saying it.
“Yeah, but since we’re still on our honeymoon, it’s allowed.” He bent his fingers to make quotes around the word honeymoon. I cocked an eyebrow.
“I thought this wasn’t The Notebook.”
He cocked his own eyebrow right back. “Hmm, so that’s what you were upset about.”
I blushed, embarrassed to be caught out. Only the heat of the water saved me since my skin was already flushed. “I’m not upset.” I don’t even know why I said that. Clearly he had noticed that I was. Which was a mind fuck in itself. Why was he so attentive to me?
“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make light of what we have. I was just…being a guy. Insensitive and stupid.”
The apology surprised me, as did his candid confession. “It’s fine. I was stupid to get upset.”
“No, you weren’t. This thing that’s happening between us – it’s important to me too.”
Great, now he knows that I’m falling for him or whatever. I looked away, not really ready to have this conversation. I took a sip of the wine and he offered me a grape. I opened my mouth and let him put it on my tongue. I caught his eye and we eyeballed each other as I chewed the fruit slowly.
He put another grape between his teeth and slowly bent down until our noses were touching. I opened my mouth and snagged the grape from his mouth. Our lips touched briefly, not really a kiss, just a brush of skin on skin. Still, I shivered. He pulled back and looked at me, a question in his eyes.
I didn’t know what the answer was. If I let him in, I was scared he would break my heart. But would pushing him away hurt any less? I didn’t know. I slid forward in the big bath, leaving space for him to slip in behind me.
He stripped pretty fast and then his legs were settling on either side of me and he was pulling me back to lie against his hard chest. He ran his nose back and forth against my hair. “Tickles,” he murmured.
“Well then, stop doing that.”
“It feels good.”
I sighed, shaking my head, as I bit back a smile. I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of him all around me. It was nice. Who am I kidding? It was more than nice. It made my flesh tingle and my heart beat faster. He ran his fingers casually up and down my arm, tracing random patterns as he breathed on my neck. We didn’t speak; just let the silence thicken and lengthen until all that could be heard in the room was our harsh breathing and the faint rumble of Louis Armstrong’s voice.
His finger swiveled around my nipple, creating ever decreasing circles as he progressed from base to tip. My breathing got more erratic and I moaned a little bit, just to let some of the lust out. My back arched of its own accord and my hips rubbed against his rock-hard dick.
He groaned as if he was in pain, squirming against me. It was weird how much I enjoyed the sounds he was making. I twisted around slowly, my lips tingling with the need to have his on mine. He smiled a little shyly at me before leaning forward, lips puckered, to plant little kitten licks along the length of my lips.
It was nowhere near enough.
I surged upwards, capturing his lips with mine, my tongue snaking into his mouth, my clawed fingers holding his head steady. I wanted to taste the dangly thing at the base of his throat, lick all the chocolate still coating his teeth, maybe suck his ton
gue into my mouth. The hunger for him was insane. I chalked it down to not having been in a relationship for so long that now I was overcompensating.
To my shock, he grasped my ass in both hands and got to his feet. I knew he was strong but…damn. I let him manhandle me out of the bathroom and over to the bed, without once removing my mouth from his. He threw me down with a feral smile, looking me over from head to toe like I was a feast and he was deciding where to begin gobbling me down.
I lay, arms spread wide, one leg bent at the knee, just waiting. He put one knee on the bed, his eyes growing more hooded, darkening steadily with lust as they traveled up my legs and landed on the dark downy hair that covered my cookie. I widened my legs slowly, as he made a choked sound deep in his throat. He dived forward, burying his head between my legs and I squealed, throwing my head back and wrapping my legs around his neck.
He went to town, licking, suckling, tickling, laving and nipping with impunity. What little was left of my upper brain function disappeared like smoke. All that was left was ‘more more more!’ in a never-ending loop.
I wanted him inside of me so bad; my inner muscles were spasming with the need of it. Yet somehow, it was a shock when he straightened up and pushed himself into me.
I screamed a little as my body moved up the bed with the force of his thrusts. It was just so good, I wanted to shout it to the skies. My breasts jiggled as he worked me over, pounding me so hard that pretty soon my head was banging against the headboard.
Surprisingly thoughtful, he curled his hand protectively against the top of my head to stop me from getting a concussion but didn’t stop the tempo of his thrusts even by an inch – thank heavens. Honestly, if we weren’t already married, I’d have asked him for his hand right then and there.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I arched against him, encouraging him to go deeper, reach for more. A carefree laugh escaped me; I suppose my endorphins were working overtime in making me feel good. I pushed back as he pushed into me, the jolt of impact sending shards of electricity every which way, lighting my body on fire. I closed my eyes and let go, allowing climax to bear down on me unhindered by inhibitions. There was plenty of time to worry about what all this meant – later.
He groaned, long and low as he emptied himself into me, his body shaking and shuddering with the force of it. It seemed to trigger in me a second orgasm because my inner muscles just clamped down on him and I was frozen in a rictus of too much. I could barely move for how much my muscles were spasming. I feared he might kill me.
In the end, he did not. I collapsed backward on the bed and promptly passed out.
When I came to, there was a bottle of water on the bedside table, and Dom lay fast asleep next to me. I was momentarily confused as to what I was doing with him, in his bed, before things clicked back into place.
Domenic Cliff was my husband.
I huffed a laugh, disbelieving. It was like one of the stories I’d read so obsessively, but if I’d been writing it, I’d have cast myself as the spazzy friend who was down on love.
Wait. Why did I say love?
I turned to the side, picked up the water and downed it and then closed my eyes determinedly, eager to escape into sleep.
My meeting with the board was on Tuesday and so on Monday morning, I made sure to be at work at 8 a.m. on the dot. I had a lot to do and I wanted to be as visible as possible, so that I was foremost on everyone’s minds. I hadn’t seen Danna since her last attempt to psyche me out, which was a relief, frankly. She was too good at pressing my buttons.
To my shock, I’d been accosted at the employee’s entrance by a paparazzi wanting to know why I was continuing to work when I was married to such a wealthy man. I rolled my eyes and ignored him, but he still got off a couple of pictures. Dom was right; I needed to do some shopping. Get me some Rich Wife clothes. I pulled at my khaki trousers self-consciously as he snapped away. Since I spent my days in a lab coat, I didn’t really care what I was wearing underneath.
Clearly that would have to change.
Jacinda looked up as I came into the lab.
“Good morn-” she began to say but I couldn’t wait for her to finish.
“You have to take me shopping at lunch time.”
She startled for a second, as she eyeballed me in inquiry.
“I have to buy some new clothes.”
She perked up at once. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing. Just…photographers everywhere.” I mumbled the last part, coloring in embarrassment. “Shut up,” I added as I saw her grin.
“Well, well, well…look who finally got a clue. Don’t worry, Nico. I’m here to save you. I trust you have some limitless credit card on you somewhere?”
I nodded, still avoiding her eye.
“Okay.” She clapped her hands, turning back to her station. “Let’s get some work done, so we can take a guilt-free, long lunch break.”
Seeing as that was an excellent idea, I followed her lead, making sure to email my supervisor first to remind her that I had the grant meeting in the morning and then signing off with my new surname.
To my surprise, she replied right away to wish me luck. I blinked at the email, bemused. It was one thing to come up with a plan to marry a man for his name in order to move up in the world. It was quite another to see how such a thing worked its magic.
My supervisor usually answered my emails with the equivalent of grunts and impatience. I had been expecting the usual reminder about how the grant meeting hadn’t really anything to do with my FDA work and so I should expect to do some (unpaid) overtime to make up for it.
With an internal shrug, I returned to my work, but I couldn’t resist shaking my head now and then. As soon as the clock struck one, Jacinda was pulling me off my stool. “Come on, those designer jeans are not going to buy themselves,” she said excitedly. She practically flew down the corridor, holding onto my hand, and then we were outside and headed towards the subway.
Taking the train would be faster than driving.
Normally I hated shopping, but Jacinda’s excitement made it fun – that and the fact that she instituted a ban on looking at price tags. So I just bought what I liked, what fit best and felt comfortable and looked sensational.
“There you are!” Jacinda’s arms were wide, her face delighted as I came out of the dressing room to show her the latest outfit. “Show off those curves, girl.”
I made a face, looking down at my dress, which did indeed hug every curve on my body without making me look thirsty or like I walked the streets for a living. In fact, to be honest, it made me look fantastic. I shrugged. “Mm, I suppose it’ll do.”
“You have to get Domenic to take you for dinner tonight! And wear that.”
I smiled, shaking my head. I suppose it would be a good idea to be seen out and about with Dom on the eve of my grant meeting.
“Miss Innes. How fortuitous!” A tall, bottle-blond man with a square jaw and a fake tan stood in front of me, smiling as if we knew each other.
“I’m sorry, who are you?”
He looked slightly taken aback by my tone. I guessed he might’ve known my name, but he didn’t know I was from the streets. “Uh, I’m Roman Alexander. Your husband and I… well, let’s just say we’re competing for the same job.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of you.” I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering why he was talking to me.
“I was wondering if I might have a word.” He glanced at Jacinda and then away.
I folded my arms. “Yeah?”
“Perhaps your ah…assistant can give us a minute?”
I gasped at the audacity, but Jacinda just shook her head. “I’m going to look at the jeans. Hurry up before I buy them all.” She walked off, head held high, and I ground my teeth together, wanting to punch someone in the face. Suddenly I was very motivated to help Dom get that job.
The man, Roman, stepped closer, almost too much in my personal space. He gave me a smarmy smile. “Now, Miss Innes-”
He gave me a look. “Well, that is exactly what I wanted to discuss. A little birdie told me that your marriage might not exactly be a love match?” He blinked at me, watery blue eyes twinkling as if we shared a secret.
“What little birdie is that? Was it Perez Hilton? You know you can’t believe everything he writes, right?”
He legit rolled his eyes at me. “Come on, now. You’re among friends here. Now, if I were to offer you…say, equivalent of whatever Cliff’s paying you plus a sizeable percentage on top…could we ah, talk sabotage?”
I folded my arms, marveling at his presumption. “I beg your pardon?”
“Fine. You twisted my arm. I’ll pay you double whatever Cliff’s paying you.”
I blinked, frozen in place, unable to process what he was saying. “What exactly are you asking me to do?”
He shrugged. “Nothing big. Just maybe let one of the tabloids interview you – and maybe you let slip that your marriage isn’t real?”
“But...it is.”
He gave me a skeptical look. “Come on, Miss Innes. We both know that you are far from Domenic’s type. He only chose you because you look good on paper. A scientist? Inspired, I’ve got to admit. I underestimated him.”
He reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper. I looked down at it and saw that it was a blank check. A feeling of déjà vu swept through me.
These rich people sure did think anything and everything was for sale.
He handed the check to me. When I didn’t reach for it, he stuck it in the pocket of the dress I’d been trying on.
He winked at me, before spinning around and walking away.
17
Domenic
“Why does everyone assume I’m not his type anyway?”
I stopped short, my hand frozen mid-stretch towards the door. Clearly Nico had neglected to shut it when she arrived home. I frowned at the door because it should have closed on its own once she let it go.