A Dominant Fallen (A Dominant Series Book 2)

by Black, Lena

  We make our way over to the elevator, sliding in, and ride it down to the lobby. A place I’ve not seen since our fateful night.

  We end up at the spa, Pure, my favorite place to go with my mom and Jules, and head to the lockers to undress and throw on our terrycloth robes. It is the softest, plushest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of cocooning myself in.

  We receive full-body massages with skin treatments, and after, while Vivian is getting a waxing, Aubrey, Keira, and I head into the steam room. We are the only ones in here, which is nice, but also terrifying. I know they’ll want to talk.

  I take my place on the top step, unwrapping my towel and laying it over the hot, wet royal blue tiles. I sprawl out and take a steadying breath, readying myself for the barrage of questions and comments about to come my way.

  “So,” Aubrey says, right on cue. “How have you been, Ellie? We heard about your father…We’re so sorry for your loss. I understand what you’re going through…”

  “We both do,” Keira intervenes.

  I don’t look at them; instead, I stare up at the dark-tiled ceiling. “Thank you, but if we could not talk about it, I would really appreciate it.”

  “Sure, of course, honey,” Aubrey assures.

  “How’s the restaurant, Bree?” I ask, attempting to keep the conversation from steering into any heavy topics.

  “It’s wonderful,” she replies, but doesn’t go into any detail, leaving me hanging. We sit there in awkward silence, waiting, waiting to talk about all the things I know they are dying to ask.

  “Alright, fine.” Keira finally breaks the quiet. “I guess it has to be me. What the hell happened that night, Ellie?”

  Oh god, here we go. What do I tell them? How much do they know? How much would Hunt tell them? They must notice something is off. I doubt Dante has made an appearance, which probably raises even more questions. CRAP!

  “I wasn’t ready for a commit…”

  “No,” Aubrey interrupts, “what really happened, Ellie, with Dante?”

  I sit up rapidly, and my wide eyes meet theirs. “Excuse me?”

  “We know…Damian came over the night you left, crying and soaking wet, confused and depressed. I’d never seen him like that before. Ever. He was…hollow. After a few stiff drinks, he told us about Dante attacking you, Olivia, the break-up.”

  “He did?” I ask, amazed by his openness.

  “Yeah, but he filled us in Friday night with the other details of that night…We just want to hear it firsthand from you.”

  I’m still stunned about Hunt being so open with his family. “I really can’t go into it. I’m trying to forget any of it ever happened. It was terrifying…What did he tell you about Olivia?”

  We all stare at one another, unsure of what the other knows and how much we can divulge.

  “How much do you know?” Keira utters, shooting me a dramatic side-glance, and we have a good laugh. It bounces off every surface.

  “I know everything I need to know about her. Hunt informed me about that part of his life. I can’t get him to open up about his earlier memories, like your uncle and parents.”

  “Then I think we’re all on the same page,” Aubrey replies. “What a sick fucking bitch. I wanted to rip her eyes out and punch her in the tit when he told us.”

  I laugh out, “I couldn’t agree more…Wait, is this why they aren’t with us today?”

  “Yep,” Keira answers, “Mom pretty much disowned them. None of us have seen or heard from Dante since the night before your attack, or Olivia since my parents cast her out. What a night that was.”

  “Wow,” I murmur to myself. “So, has Hunt told you anything about the search for Dante?”

  “No,” Aubrey responds, “only that he was going to track him down and not to inform the cops.”

  She has a suspicious look on her face, as if she knows something she shouldn’t tell me.

  “Bree, what aren’t you telling me?” She glances away in an attempt to conceal her telling face. “Bree,” I snap.

  She snaps her head around, staring me in the eye. “Hunt had Liam follow you around while you weren’t together except when you went to stay with your mom in Marin.”

  “What!?” I yelp.

  “Yeah, he had Chase keep tabs on you while you were there, to ensure that you were being taken care of, protected, in case Dante came after you again. Apparently, he took very good care of you.” She smirks at me, and I can’t stop myself from smirking back. “Hunt said you ran away and hadn’t talked to anyone since…Anyway, have you spoken to him yet?”

  “Jeez. How much did Hunt tell you…? No, I…He wasn’t the only reason…It’s complicated.”

  “Yeah, that’s obvious,” Keira giggles out.

  A few hours later, we leave Pure feeling refreshed and fabulous, with our new mani-pedis and freshly blown-out hair. The girls brought extra clothes for dinner, including a black midi dress and electric blue pumps for me. It has an adi neckline, peplum waist, and fits me like a glove.

  Like brother, like sisters.

  I managed to get the collar on myself, twisting it around so his name is toward the back, under my hair, which I left down for just this reason. Vivian complimented me on it, and I blushed furiously.

  We are now on our way to the restaurant to meet Hunt and Pierce for dinner. It’s now dark out and my focus is on the hunk of metal about my neck so I don’t notice where we are until we pull up to a cozy little bistro right down the block from my apartment, literally. Frascati, a neighborhood gem, sits on the corner of Hyde & Green St. with a wonderful view of the cable cars passing by. I’ve dined here quite a bit with Chase, Jules, and my…

  I love how the intimate restaurant is located in a two-story Victorian. The side and second floor were left to appear as if still a home, yet the bottom half was converted into the restaurant’s main floor, with an all glass edifice.

  Hunt and Pierce are at the curb when we step out, offering us a hand when needed.

  “Good evening, ladies. You all look stunning,” Pierce greets us. I’m the last to exit. Without hesitation, Damian holds his hand out to me and I take it, gratefully, holding on for dear life. I don’t trust myself in heels.

  “You’re simply magnificent, Gabrielle.”

  I notice he changed his outfit to a black suit and a white button-up, collar undone.

  I do love this look on a man, my man.

  His chocolaty hair is slicked back, and his five o’clock shadow looks good enough to lick. He’s completely fuckworthy right now, not as if he ever isn’t, and I can’t have him.

  He peers down at my collar with a pleased grin, a grin that gives me a warm, satisfied feeling deep in my gut. He looks as if he wants to give me a proper greeting, as if he wants to take me in his arms and never let go, but, instead, he offers me an elbow and guides us into the bistro, radiating a sense of pride.

  I grin to myself, delighted by the pleasure he takes in me, even out of the bedroom.

  From the street, it appears small, but once inside, you spot the tall ceiling adorned with antique, iron light fixtures. I admire the way they bathe our inviting surroundings in a soft, golden glow, giving a romantic charm to its already alluring ambiance. I love the warm, summery-hued walls with their accent molding, and the lightly worn wood floors. The small tables are draped in crisp white linens. I absolutely adore the old country charm of this San Fran hot spot.

  We are escorted to the back, under a large balcony that spans the width of the narrow venue, by an enthusiastic hostess. She smiles pleasantly as we take our seats, placing our menus in front of us. Once we are all seated, she announces, “Your waiter will be with you in just a moment.”

  “Thank you,” Hunt and Pierce respond in unison. It’s sweet.

  We study our menus, but I only skim mine to check for anything new. Besides, I’m sure Hunt will insist on ordering for me, so the point seems moot.

  Our server walks up, a handsome man with ash blonde hair and sparkling hazel e
yes, and says, “Hello. My name is Chad and I’ll be taking care of you this evening.”

  I notice that he glances at me when he says, ‘I’ll be taking care of you,’ and I’m not the only one. Hunt tosses his arm about my shoulders, cuddling me into my nook.

  “Can I start you off with any appetizers, or your drinks, perhaps?”

  “Yes, Chad,” Hunt chimes in, staring him down and emphasizing his name. “This will be for everyone…We’ll take two bottles of the 2010 Thibault Liger-Belair, Les Saint Georges, Nuits Saint-Georges Premier Cru., and the burrata with prosciutto di parma.”

  Chad seems slightly nervous under Hunt’s scrutinizing gaze. “Very good, sir. Will that be all?”

  “Yes, Chad, that will be all.” His tone is less than polite. I nudge his ribs with my elbow, but it doesn’t faze him.

  Our server slumps away and we begin chatting and catching up, keeping the topics pleasant, light, Dante and Olivia free.

  We sit about the table, as our server clears our salad plates, waiting for the main course to arrive. The food is a blend of Mediterranean and local influences. It’s truly delectable.

  “So, Ellie,” Vivian says, “how is your mother doing, dear? I haven’t seen her since the funeral. She’s been a hard woman to get a hold of.”

  “You were there?” I ask with shock.

  “Yes, but we felt it was best to keep our distance…We didn’t want you to be any more uncomfortable than you already were,” she replies, with a look of sympathy and concern on her face.

  “That,” Keira adds, twisting the stem of her glass between her fingers, “and Ian told us to stay away.”

  “I’m sorry? He told you?”

  I slowly shift my head in his direction, peering at him with a how-dare-you glare. I turn back to them and say as if he isn’t even in the room, “I’m sorry he demanded that of you. It was not and is not his place to tell my friends to back off, even if they are related to him.”

  “Agree to disagree,” Hunt murmurs from his wine glass as he tilts it back for a nice, long sip.

  I sigh quietly, annoyed.

  “Anyway,” I utter, “to answer your question, Vivian, I don’t know how she’s been either. I haven’t spoken to her since the funeral.”

  “Oh, dear, why?” she asks, alarmed.

  “Mother, now is not the time to discuss this. Elle will talk about it when she is ready.” Hunt steps in to save the day. He is my knight in shining armor, my dark prince.

  “Thank you,” I mouth to him.

  “You’re welcome,” he mouths back.

  “Damian,” his mother says, “you’ll never guess who I spoke to yesterday.”

  “You know I never will…Who, Mother?”

  “Vanessa.”

  Oh. My. Fuck. No.

  “Is that right?” Hunt responds, shifting in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. “You didn’t happen to mention where I would be last night or whom I would be with, did you?”

  “Yes,” she replies, “it may have come up. Why?”

  “Oh, no reason.” He shoots me a quick side-glance, letting me know he’s thinking the same damn thing as me. The psycho is stalking him.

  “Wait,” Aubrey says, shaking her head and sticking her pointer finger up in a gesture to pause the moment, “did she show up at the Opera?”

  “No,” Vivian answers, but clarity seems to wash over her face. She stares at Hunt with wide eyes and a slack mouth, and then asks, “Did she?”

  “This is not up for discussion,” he states, clearly irritated by the choice in topic. I’m not too thrilled either. They must notice our discomfort because Keira blurts out, “Ah, that’s a total yes!”

  “Ladies,” Pierce, who has been quietly hanging in the background, finally interjects, “can we change the topic to something a bit more appealing, please?”

  That’s when Hunt’s phone goes off. It’s Banks’ ringtone. I remember those final moments with Hunt, waiting for news of Dante. I’ve come to dislike the sound of it.

  “Hunt,” he answers the call, “Talk to me, Banks.”

  He sits for a moment, listening attentively to every word as an array of expressions cross his face. For an instant, his eyes widen. “Hold on, Banks…I have to take this outside. If the food arrives before I get back, start without me.”

  “But,” I sputter out as he rises from his chair and kisses me atop my head.

  “I won’t be long,” he assures and walks out of sight and the restaurant. Right then, the food arrives and they dig in, but I wait. I’m too edgy to eat. I want to know what he’s talking about, whom he’s talking about. I can’t help but search for him through the crowd.

  “Ellie, dear,” Vivian says, grabbing my attention, “you have no need to worry. He’ll be back in a few moments.”

  Her words aren’t very comforting since I can spot the noticeable worry on her lovely, porcelain face. However, I comply, staring down at the tantalizing meal set before me. Hunt ordered my favorite, the almond breaded Alaskan halibut, drizzled with a tasty sauce, on a bed of barley and spring vegetables, arranged in a visually pleasing presentation of artisanship.

  I pick at my meal slowly, taking small bites to ensure I would have something on my plate when he comes back. I guess it’s the submissive in me, that part of me that desires to please him, to ensure he is taken care of before myself. I reach up and touch the cool metal of the collar securely clamped about my small neck…Then again, it’s also called being a loving girlfriend.

  Twenty long minutes later, I am nearly finished with my fish and Hunt-less, sitting back in my chair with my wineglass firmly in hand. I can’t take it any longer.

  “Will you excuse me for a moment?” I stand up, and with determined purpose, I stride through the bistro and out the front doors. I don’t see Damian at first glance, but when I peek about the corner, I find him in the dark, leaning against the side of the building with one foot up on the wall. I don’t notice the cigarette in his hand until he lifts it to his lips and inhales deep, causing the cherry to glow.

  “I didn’t know you smoke,” I state the obvious.

  “I used to, not so much anymore.” He takes another drag.

  “Could’ve fooled me,” I retort and he gives me a not-now glare.

  “I only have one if I’m really stressed, which isn’t too often…Odd, considering my career is stress-based.”

  I suddenly feel emotionally drained, overwhelmed by the last few days, weeks, months. “Let me have a drag,” I say, walking over and leaning on the wall next to him. He elevates a brow and then hands it over.

  “I didn’t know you smoke,” he repeats back to me, smirking that lopsided grin. I roll my eyes at him and take a puff, sucking

  in deep and holding it for an instant.

  Holy shit. I forgot how good they could be, how mellow they make me feel. I take one more before handing it back to him.

  “Where did you get that anyway…? Do you have some secret stash hidden in your pockets?”

  “No, I bummed it off a guy walking his dog.”

  “Interesting choice in words,” I comment, taking the cig from between his scissored fingers and inhaling another long drag.

  “What was your call about?” I don’t even try to dance around it.

  “There were company issues that needed my immediate attention.”

  “I think you’re not telling me something. You’re keeping things from me and I don’t like it. I wish you wouldn’t keep me in the dark.”

  “Gabrielle, it’s nothing that concerns you. I would inform you of anything you need to know. But, this isn’t one of those times. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes, I promise…Look,” he says, nodding his head toward Hyde St. I turn my head and spot the moon peeking through the cloud cover over the white Art Deco apartment building I once called home. Not any more, not since I found my home with Hunt…Right then, I come to a concrete decision.

  “Hunt?”

/>   “Yes,” he answers, with his head tilted against the wall, eyes closed, taking another draw off the cancer stick as Jules likes to call them.

  “I want to move my things out of my apartment, preferably, this week. I would like to have my personals with me…If Artemis really is my home now, it should have touches of me there, too. Don’t you think?”

  Hunt flicks our smoke into an ashtray I hadn’t noticed before. “I couldn’t agree more. I will send someone to pack everything up immediately.”

  He pulls two pieces of spearmint gum from his pocket, handing me one. I cram it in my mouth and chew stridently. I open my purse and grab a travel-size perfume bottle, spritzing it twice over me and then Hunt.

  “How do I smell?” I ask, leaning into him.

  He traces his nose in the air about me. “You smell lovely as always. The breeze carried most of the scent away…I don’t want this to become a habit with you, understand?”

  “Do as I say, not as I do. Yeah, I got it.”

  “Smartass,” he murmurs and clasps my hand in his, guiding us back into the lively bistro.

  Chapter Eleven

  Encounters

  We make it home around ten and head upstairs to undress and take a bath. We make it up to the top step when Banks steps out from Hunt’s study with a dour look on his face. He doesn’t have to say a word.

  I turn to Hunt beside me and say, “I’ll be in the bedroom.”

  I kiss him on the cheek and walk into our room, striding into the closet to change into a black silk robe. I strip down and throw on the silky garment then head into the bathroom to remove my make-up and toss my hair into a loose bun atop my head.

  Once I’m comfy, I turn off the lights using the touchscreen pad on the bedside table and lie across the mattress, curling up about a large, plush pillow. Before I know it, I’m fast asleep.

  I wake to the sound of running water and a bright light coming from the master bathroom. I stretch and yawn, rubbing my eyes until they adjust to the light. When they do, I spot Hunt’s massive, stark-naked form walk past the door and his clothes carelessly tossed on the floor leading to the bathroom.