by Julia Wolf
“Of course.” She stood in front of me, running her palms down my bare arms. “He’s probably going to be in a dour mood all night. Don’t take it personally, okay?”
I nodded. “I’ll be working. I’m not expecting the red-carpet treatment from him.”
She hesitated before tipping her chin, giving me a wink, and heading out the door.
I took one more look at myself in the mirror. The bodice of my dress was black, off the shoulder, and simple. The skirt was anything but. Cream, with big, burnt orange and yellow flowers, accented by sequins in the centers, it wasn’t made to blend in with a crowd. Old me would have hated it, but the woman I was now was beginning to believe Marta was right.
I should never desire to be invisible. That wasn’t me anymore.
Chapter Thirty-one
Dominic
Marta straightened my tie. “You look slick, Dom. How do you feel?”
“Less than slick.”
“Well…” she patted my chest hard, “your girl looks like an angel, so I hope you find it in your cold, black heart to treat her like one.”
“I always do, Mar.”
“Mmmhmmm. You do, and I’m proud of you for that. However, we both know tonight isn’t like other nights.”
I’d like to think if I had the chance, I would have found the words to refute her, but the click of high heels drawing near averted my attention elsewhere. Claire strode toward us, her shiny plum-colored lips curving into a smile.
“Beauty.” I took her hands in mine, holding her at arm’s length so I could take a long look at her. Her dress was unexpected, and at first glance, not blatantly sexy, but gorgeous nonetheless. Her breasts were pushed up high, swelling round and firm above the top of her bodice. When she moved, the subtle slit in her skirt revealed a pale, freckled leg, all the way up to mid-thigh.
Her breath caught when our eyes finally met. “You’re in a suit.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure you should be allowed out of the house like this. Danger, danger.”
I chuckled as I pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. “You’re incredible, Claire. If I forget my manners while we’re at this thing, remember me telling you this now—you are stunning, and I’m really proud to have you with me.”
Marta clapped. “All right, all right. The car is here. Time to go, peeps.”
Claire caught her hand. “Have fun on your date with Iris.”
“Not a date,” Marta singsonged. “Not when those cunt-blockers Roddy and Adam are going to be there too.”
As we passed, Marta smacked me on the ass. “Be good to her, Dom, or I swear to god…”
She didn’t finish her threat, but she didn’t have to. I had no intention of treating Claire poorly tonight, no matter how badly I wanted to sink into a dark hole. I wouldn’t. For her.
And for Dylan.
Tonight wasn’t about me. It was about raising money so other kids wouldn’t suffer like Dylan had. I had no idea if they’d ever find a cure, but if there was any sense to this fucked up world we lived in, there had to be a way that children didn’t suffer through surgeries, chemo, radiation, pain after pain after pain, only to die before they even had a chance to live.
In the limo, I tucked Claire beside me, burying my face in her neck. Her scent never failed to ground me, to give me that safe, cared-for feeling I’d had during my long, hot summers in Georgia.
“Is there anything I should know before we arrive?” she asked.
I straightened, tracing my eyes over her serious expression. “Is this work-mode Claire already?”
“It is. It’s easier for me to compartmentalize this way. You can go off and do your thing and I won’t be hurt or neglected.” She tugged on my tie. “So, is there anything?”
There were a million things. Shit I should say, should tell her, wanted her to know, but I had no clue where to begin, or if she’d even want that baggage when she was walking away from me in less than a week.
When we were walking away from each other.
“No, baby. Have a drink or two and keep the wolves at bay. Maybe strut by me every so often so I can watch and be distracted by your tits and ass.”
She let out a light snort. “Oh, you and your way with words.”
We arrived at the venue without fanfare, entering through a side door. Claire trailed beside me into the museum, which had been transformed into an event space. Bars bracketed the wide-open space with perfectly set tables dotted around the center.
I headed straight for the bar, although I felt eyes on me from every direction.
My beer was ready first, so while we waited for Claire’s cocktail, I surveyed the room. I recognized many of these people from attending this gala the past several years, but none whose name I remembered.
None except her. Chelsea Watson.
From across the room, our eyes met, and she waved me over with a grin. Claire moved beside me with her drink in hand. I touched her shoulder.
“I see someone I know. Would you mind if I…?” I nodded toward the direction I intended on going.
She straightened, following my gaze. “Oh. Sure. I’ll be fine. I wanted to wander around and look at the paintings anyway.”
I forced a half-smile out. “The wandering queen.”
“CEO of Wandering. That’s me.” She nudged me forward. “Go, please.”
I peered down at my girl one more time. “I’ll find you. Don’t wander too far.”
As I walked away from her, I swore I heard her whisper, “I’ll try,” but when I turned around, she was already gone.
Chapter Thirty-two
Claire
I did wander. I sat in front of paintings, studying them as I sipped on my vodka cran. This museum was a bit too modern for my taste, but I studied the art like I was going to be quizzed on it.
Otherwise, I would have to watch Dominic in an intimate huddle with a willowy blonde goddess. Seeing them embrace, the way he’d cupped the back of her head and held her against his chest, had been enough.
For the first time since I’d known him, daggers of jealousy stabbed at my gut. I’d waded through groupies and women he’d been intimate with. I’d seen reporters flirt and basically shared a naked stripper with him, and I’d never once felt possessive or concerned about my place with him.
Not until her. Even from across the room, their expressions of shared pain and love were so clear, I could have been standing in front of them.
I didn’t allow myself to wallow for long. I skirted the room, listening for press or anything else I should have been aware of. But it seemed I didn’t really have much of a job to do here. There weren’t any obvious reporters, no paparazzi clambering outside. I took notes on my phone in case Isabela wanted me to write up a press release or something for social media tomorrow, but I doubted I’d need them.
I went to the bar for another drink as dinner service was called. Since we hadn’t discussed it, I navigated around the tables to where Dominic was seated beside the blonde, still deep in conversation.
She saw me first, lifting a brow when I hovered beside the table, my drink sweating on my hand. Dominic turned to see who his friend was looking at, and when we locked eyes, his expression became guarded and flat.
“Claire,” he practically growled.
I sucked in a breath, painting on a smile. “Do you know if I’ll be sitting with you for dinner, or is there another place for...employees?”
The blonde woman stood, towering over me in a sleek, black dress. She offered her hand and a bright smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Chelsea.”
We shook, and I returned her smile, though mine was decidedly less bright. “I’m Claire, Dominic’s PR assistant.”
“Lovely to meet you. Your dress is exquisite. I always wear black, but seeing you in all this color makes me want to go for it. Next year, it’s game on.” She winked. “And, since I organized this little event, please let me show you to your table.”
She steered me back across the room, point
ing out donors and doctors who worked with the foundation. I really wanted to hate this woman who had been putting her hands all over Dominic, but I couldn’t—not when she bled sincerity and had such a gentle way about her, I wasn’t sure she’d ever even hurt a fly.
“Normally, Isabela sits with Dom, but obviously she’s not here. You were added at the last minute, so I had to sneak you into a table with an extra seat. Don’t worry, it’s not for B-listers. I happen to know there’s a single cardiothoracic surgeon, a neurosurgeon, and an artist at your table.”
I had to laugh. She was so off base, it was funny. “Thank you, Chelsea.”
“Of course. Thank you for coming and supporting the foundation.”
Dinner was fine. My tablemates were lovely. I made great efforts to engage in conversation and learn about the foundation. I made even greater efforts not to give my attention to the man on the other side of the room.
My efforts were in vain, though. I kept finding myself glancing his way. For the most part, he sat stiff in his chair, but every once in a while, I’d see Chelsea touch the back of his neck or lean her head on his shoulder, and he made no move to stop her.
I imagined this was why Isabela had insisted I come tonight. Despite my denial, she probably guessed something was going on between Dominic and me and this had been her way of once again hammering home I was nothing special.
I certainly felt like a pile of scraps, unwanted and soon to be tossed aside. I hated myself for allowing one night to drive me so low, but the reality was, I hadn’t fully healed from my marriage. Foundation already cracked, all it took was one light hit and I fell apart.
Speeches began during dessert, finally capturing my full attention. I learned a lot about the research efforts funded through donations and the advances doctors were making. Nothing was fast enough, no matter how much urgency everyone involved felt. Children were suffering and dying and it just...it wasn’t fair.
The man beside me—the neurosurgeon with a smile that could light up any room—tapped my arm when the speeches ended and the music started again. “How do you feel about dancing?” he asked.
“I feel great about it, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline. I didn’t bring my dancing shoes.”
I excused myself from the table, needing a little room to breathe. As I made my way toward the terrace, I saw through the floor-to-ceiling windows that it was already occupied by a few people, but one pair drew my eye.
Dominic and Chelsea were face-to-face, in profile to me. His hands were on her waist, hers clutching his arms. She nodded at something he said, and after a pause, he dipped his head to her shoulder.
Swirling away from them, I strode in the opposite direction to the bathrooms, flinging myself inside, shooting up a thanks to everything holy the room was blessedly empty.
Was it possible to be numb and searing with pain at the same time?
Because I was.
My mind scrambled, and I was unable to catch a single thought as they zipped around my skull. I felt betrayed, but I didn’t even know if I had been. Dominic and I weren’t together. We weren’t a couple. We had sex and spent time with each other. We had an expiration date—and it was fast approaching. Perhaps he was lining up his next arrangement already.
I rubbed my chest, watching my reflection in the little mirror over the sink. Sadness hung around me like an accessory, clashing with my pretty dress.
This wouldn’t do. I couldn’t allow another man to ruin me. I had to suck it up, push my emotions aside, and finish my job.
After applying a fresh coat of lip gloss, I pushed through the door into the long hallway leading back to the gallery. I only took two steps before Dominic appeared at the end of the hall, the light from the gala glowing around his dark form.
He took long, assured strides toward me, eating the distance in seconds.
“I looked everywhere for you.” He sounded more gruff than normal, and almost accusatory.
“Did you? I guess you missed the restroom.” I brushed by him, unwilling to participate in anything other than work-related conversation.
He caught my arm, bringing me to a stop. “Can you stay here with me for a minute?”
I shook him off. “Actually, no. I need to get back out there. If someone saw us here together, they might get the wrong idea.”
I tried to move around him, but he wouldn’t let go. “Claire.”
My eyes flicked from his to the hand clamped around my arm. “Dominic, please let go of me. I’d like to leave this hallway now.”
He dropped my arm, but kept my path blocked with his body. “Are you angry with me?”
“I’m not anything with you.” I folded my arms under my breasts. “I’m working.”
He slammed his hand on the wall beside him. “This is bullshit,” he hissed. “Tell me what’s going on. Talk to me, Claire.”
My eyes flared. “Now you want to talk to me? That’s funny, because I want the exact opposite.” I pushed past him, and this time, he let me. Right before I left the hall to rejoin the gala, I turned back. “Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”
In my head, I made a dramatic exit, running down a grand set of marble steps like Cinderella with my prince chasing after me. Reality didn’t look like fairy tales, though. For one, I wasn’t much of a runner, and I couldn’t be certain Dominic would chase me. But more importantly, I wouldn’t upend my burgeoning career for a relationship that was nothing but temporary.
An hour later, Dominic found me at my table, chatting with my new doctor friends.
“It’s time to go, Claire.” He stood over me with his hand out for me to take. I allowed him to help me up after I said my goodbyes to everyone and tucked away the business card Dr. Neurosurgeon gave me.
In the limo, I tried to sit on my own side, but Dominic just parked himself beside me.
“Did that guy actually give you his phone number in front of me? And you took it?” He sounded flat, devoid of any emotion.
“It doesn’t matter.” I scooted over as far as I could, my head turned to the window.
Deep grumbles vibrated his chest. “I can’t fight with you tonight. I just can’t.”
“I’m not fighting you, Dominic. I promise.”
We rode home in silence, though Dominic didn’t allow me to have any physical space from him. He practically sat on top of me with a possessive hand gripping high on my thigh. The tension riding with us as a third passenger wasn’t anything like what we normally had. It wasn’t lust-filled and explosive. Sorrow and disappointment clung to the thick edges of the air. When we pulled up to Dominic’s house, I couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.
I went straight to his bedroom, digging through my neatly packed bag for pajamas. Dominic followed me into the room, pensive and careful. He removed his tie and jacket, laying them on the back of a chair, then unbuttoned the top of his shirt.
“Can I unzip your dress for you?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
He came up to me, spinning me around to face away from him. His knuckles dragged along my shoulders, then the center of my back until he reached my zipper. He tugged it slowly, letting his fingers touch my skin as he lowered it. When he reached the bottom, he pressed a kiss to my shoulder blade.
“Beauty,” he murmured.
I stayed rooted there, trembling, until the bathroom door closed. Then I grabbed my things, taking them with me to the guest bedroom down the hall. I hung my dress in the closet, threw on my pajamas, then washed my face in the attached bath.
Dominic was sitting on the end of the bed when I came out, his dark eyes thunderous.
“What the hell are you doing, Claire? Explain yourself.”
“I’m sleeping in here tonight. I thought that was plainly obvious.”
He approached me and cupped my jaw. “You’re angry at me.”
“How astute of you to notice.” I jerked my face away. “Get out.”
He had the nerve to laugh and throw his hands i
n the air like I was the exasperating one. “I’ve had a hell of a night. I need you to get back in our room and stop pushing me. You’re not going to win.”
I wasn’t quick to anger, and I had more patience than most, but I’d run out of both. If he just left me alone, I could have cooled down. In the morning, I could have had a level-headed conversation.
Not now, though. I went off like a shot, almost hissing my words. “You had your hands all over another woman tonight. I saw you on the terrace. I saw how you were touching her, and from my vantage point, there was nothing innocent about it. You may not think you owe me fidelity, and maybe you’re right, but I won’t be in your fucking bed when you’re hard for another woman. You can go, Dominic.”
When he didn’t move, I pushed his shoulders. “Please go.”
He caught my wrists, cuffing them at my sides with surprising gentleness given how rigid he was. “I haven’t looked at another woman since you showed up on my plane. Tonight wasn’t about that, and the last thing I was at that gala was aroused.”
I lifted my chin, unwilling to yield. “You ignored me all night. You ignored me, and you held that woman in your arms.” I broke away from him, striding to the door. “I don’t even understand why you’re here. Why aren’t you with her?”
I opened the bedroom door, but he didn’t budge. His head hung like the weight of whatever was going on inside it was too heavy to hold.
“I’m sorry.” His voice broke, and I nearly did too. What the hell?
His eyes lifted to mine. They were black pools of sadness, tempting me to dive in.
“I’m not good with emotions. I know I fucked up tonight, but it wasn’t about her.”
“That’s not how it looked to me.”
He moved closer, and when I didn’t protest, he closed most of the distance between us. His brows were angry lightning bolts, slashing through the landscape of his beautiful, livid face. “You have to see I’m all about you. Every second is you.”
“Are you actually mad at me?” My hands balled into fists. I was seriously considering socking this infuriating man right in the jaw. “Really, Dominic?”