“Watch it, Valentino. This girl is obviously in love with you, and you playing all cutesy with her while planning to up and leave Wednesday morning is going to break her heart.” He leans forward some and crosses his arms. “I like her, a lot, she’s sweet as can be, but you’re playing her and that’s not cool.”
I sit up pissed. “You were the one that was telling me to go for it.”
“That was before I realized she was in love with you. Hasn’t she been through enough already?”
“What do you mean?” I ask wearily.
“What do I mean,” he scoffs, “how about her fiancé dying in front of her.”
“How do you know about that?”
“I did a search on her. What do you think?”
I sigh. “What am I supposed to do?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, Masterson. I can see how into you she is,” he pauses as I look to the ground, my forehead creased with worry. The last thing I want to do is hurt her. “Wait; are you into her as well? I mean, really into her? You usually just screw ‘em and leave ‘em.” He pauses and smiles. “You are, aren’t you?”
I swallow and look up at him, but before I can answer, Dominique is trotting back into the room. She comes and sits on my lap and then frowns when she sees that I haven’t finished the cake.
“You didn’t like it?” she asks worried.
“I loved it,” I say, pulling her face down for a light kiss.
“I should be heading out,” Clayton says standing. “Dominique, that was an exceptional meal, thank you for inviting me.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
He looks at me. “I understand and… I got your back.”
I nod. “Text me if anything comes up,” I say.
He nods, waving as he walks out the door. I look up at her just as she straddles my lap, kissing me fiercely, her hands holding my face as her tongue whips in and out of my mouth. I moan as my hands work down her back and land on her rear. Maybe Clayton should be more concerned about me because I think I'm the one that’s in too deep.
22 Goodbye, my love
Dominique Walker
August 1st
“Good morning,” I say with a smile, lulling my head to the side to see him.
His tongue passes over his lips as his head turns to watch me. My God, he is gorgeous. He rolls to his side, so I do as well. His face is still flushed slightly as he reaches over to tuck my hair behind my ear. He kind of looks away from me with this contemplative facial expression, like he is debating on whether to say something or not. His brows furrow just slightly before he begins speaking.
“Tonight’s our last night together. Do you want to do anything special?”
I frown slightly. I know it’s inevitable, but a part of me wants to pretend that he isn’t leaving, that he will decide he loves me and can’t live without me and that he is going to give up everything and stay here with me, but the more rational side of me knows that isn’t going to happen and that after tonight he will be gone. For how long, I don’t know.
“Maybe I could take you out somewhere,” he leans over to kiss me lightly. “Like a date.”
A date? Well, considering we have already had sex a bunch of times, that seems like a moot point, but, then again, maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe we can actually talk about the inevitable versus simply having great sex and then it being done between us. Well, I guess, technically, since I am gathering information for him, he would have to talk to me, but I’m afraid I already want more from him. I give him a small smile.
“Okay,” I say with a shy grin before adding, “sometimes I like to go over to Jackson Square. It’s really nice and they have a lot of street performers throughout the day. Would you like to do that?” I ask.
“Sure, that sounds like fun,” he traces his fingers over my lips. “Let’s go shower.”
I nod. “I’ll go start a pot of coffee and meet you in there.”
“Okay,” he says, kissing me softly.
He rolls away from me and grabs his bag that’s on the floor before heading out towards the bathroom. I quickly make my way into the kitchen to start a pot and then look to the bathroom. The shower isn’t going yet so I quickly slice and sauté some Andouille sausage with scallions and mushrooms. I then whip some eggs with tomatoes and green peppers. I carefully fold the eggs into the pan, finishing it off with some Cajun cheese curd before covering it. After it’s melted, I assemble the breakfast sandwiches, wrapping them in foil so they will stay warm.
I practically run into the bathroom and am stopped by the display before me. He is already in the shower, standing under the spray. I can see the water rolling off of his naked form through the steamy glass doors and am momentarily stunned. His hands move down his chest, trailing down his taut stomach. My mouth parts as I emit some form of a gasp, which causes him to turn towards me. He slides the door open and I can see the smug look on his face at catching me ogling him.
“What were you doing in there for so long?” he asks, stepping aside so I can jump in the small enclosure with him.
“I made you and Clayton some breakfast sandwiches because, well, I know you said you were going to be driving around today and…” I don’t get a chance to finish my thought because his mouth is on mine and I suddenly don’t remember what I was going to say.
After showering and changing, he sets his things at the door and comes up to me in the kitchen. His arms wrap around my waist as I put together some food for him and Clayton. I immediately hum against him and bring my arm up, running my fingers over his head.
“I have some to-go cups for you and Clayton. Does he like cream or sugar in his coffee?” I ask, tilting my head as he kisses along my neck, sending ripples of goosebumps along my skin.
“I don’t know. I never paid attention.”
I giggle. “Isn’t he your partner?”
He sighs and steps away from me. “Yes, he is, but...”
I look at him confused.
“Dominique,” he sighs, his face torn. “I honestly don’t notice what my colleagues like or dislike. I know I should. I’m the team leader and I know nothing about any of them.”
He’s shaking his head and looking down. I didn’t mean to make him feel bad. In fact, I think I know exactly how he is feeling. I nod as I turn and grab the small portable cooler I have. I start adding the sandwiches I just made as well as some fresh cut cheese, crackers, fresh fruit, and some mini king cakes with a raspberry and cream filling that I made yesterday. I set my hands on the counter as I start to speak.
“When Jonathan died, I shut myself off from everyone. People would ask if I was okay and I’d give my stock answer, ‘oh yes, I’m hanging in there’, but really I wasn’t hanging in there at all.” I turn around. “I only let Santiago in but I didn’t even tell him what was going on in my head. Valentino, it’s really easy to get caught up in the loss until you eventually stop living.”
He leans against the fridge. “I guess so.” His face seems to strain a bit. “Dominique…” he appears to be fighting for words.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“I honestly don’t remember what I was like before they died,” he says, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut.
I walk towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “The person you are now is a reflection of who you were then. That’s still inside you. I feel it, don’t you?” He shakes his head as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. “You will.”
His phone buzzes and he hesitantly pulls away from me. He looks down at it and rolls his eyes before looking at me. I smile and hand him the cooler.
“You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know, but I used to always pack my dad stuff to eat because I knew if I didn’t he would eat all kinds of crap.” He grins as I give him a quick kiss. “Besides, I like the idea that when you eat lunch, you’ll be thinking of me.”
He smiles. “I don’t need food to think of you.”
“I like that,” I purr
as I begin running my fingers down his chest. “I put a few extra king cakes in there for Clayton.”
He frowns. “Why?”
“For just being a nice guy and not making me feel like a silly little school girl when you were in that passageway yesterday and I was freaking out.”
“What did he tell you, anyway?”
I touch his face. “What I needed to hear.”
“You know…” he looks down at his buzzing phone and sighs. “I’ll see you later.”
“Okay, text me what time, I’ll be ready.”
He kisses me again. “Thank you.”
“For the great sex or the food?” I ask flirtatiously.
“Both,” he replies as he kisses me again, this time much deeper.
~*~
Valentino texted me thirty minutes ago that he was on his way. Earlier today I had gone into the restaurant and gotten everything together for my specials so I will be able to go over them with my chefs tomorrow. I close my eyes, remembering what happened with Marshall, and then shake my head. I took care of it. It should be fine. Once I got home, I found myself browsing through an old photo album of Jonathan and me. I’m not sure why, but I think I wanted some form of approval. His blessing, I guess. The knock on the door startles me.
“Hey there,” I say casually as I open the door for him.
“Hey there,” he returns with a kiss. “Should we head out?”
I nod and he takes my hand. “When do you have to go back?” I ask.
“I told Clayton I would meet him at seven.”
We were supposed to meet a little later, but Valentino had asked to go earlier because there was something he and Clayton needed to do tonight. Having no desire to dampen our last day together, I don’t say anything as he opens the car door for me. When he comes around to his side and slides in, he pauses, not starting the car.
“Dominique, I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
“Are you talking about tonight or in the future?” I ask, turning to him, unable to mask the sadness weighing me down.
“Both, Dominique,” he says before pulling me to him and kissing me hard.
“Okay,” I mumble against his mouth.
He breathes in and pecks my lips one last time before he sits back up, starting the car. Jackson Square is one of those tourist stops on everyone’s to-do list when they come to New Orleans, but I still like it. Sometimes I just sit on one of the benches and watch artists paint or listen to the performers entertain people passing by. It’s how I kept myself from falling too far into my depressive state after Jonathan died.
“Where should I park?” he asks.
“Just go to the Visitor’s Center on Decatur Street, there is usually parking there.”
After parking, we walk across the street and Valentino stops with a smile. “What is it?” I ask curious.
He grins and walks over to the horse drawn carriages and looks at the driver. “May I?” he asks as he motions towards the horse.
The man nods as Valentino comes in front of the horse and offers his hand to her before finally stroking the horses muzzle several times. He then moves his hand to run his fingers through her mane and begins mumbling something to the horse that starts to whinny. I look on amazed as it appears that she is nodding at him. Apparently his prowess extends to animals as well.
“Can I take you and your lovely lady on a ride?” the man asks with a slight bow.
Valentino gazes at me and gives me this boyish look and then nods at the man. He helps me into the carriage, and while it is very romantic, it’s a little embarrassing as well, like we have stepped into full-on tourist mode. The driver starts talking as Valentino wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him.
“Jackson Square was originally known in the eighteenth century as Place d'Armes. It was later renamed in honor of the Battle of New Orleans hero, Andrew Jackson,” he begins. “It faces the Mississippi River and is surrounded by many historic buildings that I will point out to you.”
“Have you ever been on one of these?” Valentino asks.
I shake my head. “Have you?”
“Once. My parents took us to New York when I was eighteen, Claire was only two. She was afraid of the horse so I picked her up and we talked to it, asked if he would mind giving us a ride,” he smiles so brightly. “The horse actually nodded and she clapped her hands and agreed to get in. She sat on my lap all the way around Central Park. It was so much fun!”
“That’s a wonderful story.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “I haven’t thought of that in years.”
“To your left you will see the Lower and Upper Pontalba Apartments,” the driver rambles but we aren’t paying attention.
“It was our last trip as a family. I went to college after that and then straight into the academy,” Valentino continues.
“I never really traveled,” I say with a sigh. “Grew up in Ormant, Mississippi and then decided, by hell or high water, that I was becoming a chef, so I took my measly three grand, and I and Santiago took off,” I say with a laugh. Sometimes I still can’t believe I had the audacity to do that.
“You didn’t have a place to stay or anything?”
I shake my head. “Nope, we brought our stuff, stayed in a couple of dive motels, and then found jobs and an apartment I never looked back,” I finish proudly.
“That’s truly amazing, Dominique,” he says with another chuckle. “You really are fearless, aren’t you?” he says with a small kiss.
I shrug and he laughs. God! That’s the sweetest sound ever.
“No wonder you don’t have any sense of danger,” he muses.
I turn to him. “What does that mean?” I ask angrily.
He gets a serious expression and strokes my cheek. “Settle down, fiery one.” I roll my eyes and he smirks. “You walk home in the middle of the night by yourself and you are somehow oblivious to the dangers that surround you at the restaurant. These people are bad. They are associated with even worse people.”
“I can look out for myself. I did today,” I say with a pout.
“What are you talking about? What happened today?”
“Nothing major, just…” I drift off, thinking about earlier.
“DOMINIQUE!” Valentino shouts and actually halts the man’s speech but only for a moment.
“Sorry, just Marshall. He made a pass at me but I handled it.”
“You handled it?”
“Yes. I told him to back off, that I wasn’t interested.”
Valentino is staring at me. He looks pissed and I’m not sure he is buying into the whole I handled it thing. Marshall is creepy, but I need to hang in there, just for a little bit more, just until Valentino can nail his crazy ass to the wall, right next to his psychotic girlfriend.
“I can take care of myself, Valentino, and besides, Betty’s got my back, so I’m good.”
He scrunches his brows together. “Who the hell is Betty?”
I move my purse slightly, opening it just enough to reveal the gun he gave me. I’m actually glad it fits, but then again it is fairly small. His face becomes impassioned as he grabs my cheeks and kisses me, full out tongue and everything, right as we are turning on Chartres Street. The driver starts rambling about the St. Louis Cathedral, the Presbytere and the Cabildo, which are Louisiana State Museums, but I’m not listening to him. I am lost in Valentino’s kiss. He finally pulls away and rests his forehead against mine, as we both try to catch our breath. He pulls me close to his chest, laying soft kisses atop my head.
“Keep her with you please.”
“I will, I promise.”
“Especially at work,” he says forcefully.
I don’t say anything. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to carry a gun with me in the kitchen but I guess I’ll have to figure something out because I know he’s right. I need to keep her with me. He sits up and positions me so that I am looking right at him. He suddenly looks angry again but I don’t think it’s with me.
“Dominique, I cannot reiterate enough how important this is. It’s my belief that Mr. Beauchamp had Mr. De la Fosse killed. He’s dangerous. They both are.”
“What?” I say in a panic, swallowing thickly.
“I think Phillipe was killed because he wanted out. My guess is they think you know something, which is why they want to keep you close.”
“I don’t know anything, Valentino. I swear,” I practically cry.
He pulls me to him, running his hands along my shoulders. “I have been wracking my brain trying to figure out how to get you out of this mess without them coming after you but nothing is coming to me.” He lays a kiss on my head. “I’ll figure it out, but, for now, I need you to bring Betty to work with you, just in case. Promise me, Dominique.”
“I’ll have her with me at all times.”
“I hope you enjoyed the ride,” the driver says, oblivious to the fact we are having a serious discussion.
Valentino steps around me to exit first and then he helps me down. He proceeds to pay the driver and then takes my hand as we start to walk around. We have fun watching the musicians and street performers entertain the crowd. We peruse the many artists' work, he even bought something for his aunt, who he told me collects art. Ultimately, we have fun, forgetting the fact that he will be leaving soon. We have about another hour left so we decide to go to Café Maspero to eat since it is quick and the food is exceptional.
“What do you recommend, Dominique?”
“They are known for their Muffaletta.”
“Should we have that then?” he asks, looking up at me.
I smile. “That’d be good.”
He orders our sandwiches and a couple of beers and then leans over the table. “Okay, what’s a Muffaletta and will I know how to eat it?”
I don’t know if he is serious or not, but it’s funny so I cover my mouth as I try not to giggle. He arches his brow, which makes me want to laugh even more. The waitress brings our drinks and I still can’t stop giggling. I have a feeling that it’s probably because I want to cry and the only other option is to laugh. When I finally settle myself down, I glance at him and he has this sexy smirk on his face.
Retaliatory Justice Page 22