6. Do What You Want

Leonie

Who winked? Who, outside of films and books, had the audacity, the arrogance to wink in front of another person? Especially while tasting me from across the room?

Dominic Belov.

And he had the goddamn face to make it one of the most alluring moments of my life. The whole of our hallway exchange had me hot and bothered.

What was worse was that it was all a game to him. All for the purpose of tormenting me. As much as he wouldn’t admit it, he was hurting, and in his sick mind, he wanted others to hurt too.

That was how he really got off.

He’d given me what I needed. Something to take the edge off and stop me from returning to Jared for a one-night fix. The Belov siblings were right; I would have regretted it.

I already did the second I woke up and blinded myself with my phone screen, trying not to wake Issy sleeping next to me.

JACK: 1 MESSAGE.

VERA: 1 MESSAGE.

DEREK: 1 MESSAGE.

DO NOT ANSWER: 1 VOICEMAIL.

DO NOT ANSWER: 3 MISSED CALLS.

DO NOT ANSWER: 4 MESSAGES.

I ignored all of Jared’s messages. You could not pay me enough to listen to his voicemail.

But my heart raced at Derek’s text, always hoping it was some news. That Firdman would stay rotting in prison.

DEREK: I’ll let you know of any updates as and when I get them. Come over soon. We miss you.

LEONIE: I’ll be down for Issy’s birthday next weekend.

Every year, the summer was dedicated to the Belovs. Issy’s parents threw an extravagant birthday party for her and then, a few weeks later, their anniversary. They had been married for 30 years this year, so half of the city I grew up in would be invited. I managed to avoid the social events last summer, but that wouldn’t be an option this year.

Vera, Issy and Dom’s mother, was texting in excitement about one of Issy’s presents. That woman cherished her children like no other.

I opened Jack’s text with curiosity—one of Dom’s friends.

JACK: Dom told me he and Mia broke up. I’d still be up for our double date becoming a single date if you are?

Six months ago, the last time I’d seen Dom, we had attended an exhibition of his mother’s photography. Jack and I had exchanged a couple of glances, and Mia was giddy with excitement, saying the minute I finally dumped Jared, she was going to set us up.

It had taken some convincing from her before I finally agreed.

Issy snored softly behind me, so I couldn’t even ask her what to reply. My thumbs danced above the keyboard.

LEONIE: I’d love to. What did you have in mind?

Then I lay there, overthinking my response. Had I sounded too keen? Too formal? Should I have suggested something for us to do?

Was I ready to date again?

When I started seeing Jared, it hadn’t been personal. I had no issue using people for my own gain. But he’d made it easy; he’d been the one to lead everything. He picked the dates, the venue, even my meals. Then life got complicated, and it looked like we would have to settle for each other.

Last spring, I’d fallen pregnant and swiftly fell into the dream of a family. One I wouldn’t have to rely on the Belovs for. Jared had been so happy and I got lost in the idea of actually loving the man. Then, in the summer, I had miscarried.

I lifted myself out of bed, dropped my feet into my slippers and went to the kitchen. There was no sign that Dom was awake, so I couldn’t get my towel or a change of clothes unless I wanted to get back in my flannel pyjamas.

Only one thing could save my pounding head.

I pulled out the waffle machine and went to grab the bananas out of the fridge for my smoothie when I checked the clock to see it was 8 am. Issy would wail from her room.

Coffee would have to do.

After making enough for the three of us, I washed the waffle maker’s plates and sat in front of the TV, deeply humiliated at the sight of the book I had grabbed last night sitting on the coffee table. Erotic Intelligence: How to Pleasure Yourself.

Kill me.

Once I’d finished eating, I was contemplating stealing a waffle from Issy’s plate when my bedroom door opened and Dom stepped out. He turned to gently close the door behind him and showed me his beautiful, perky boxer-covered ass.

Damn.

Even his thighs were pure muscle. Thick and ready to be sat upon. I’d never been a thigh girl, but with Dom I was an everything girl. What a dickhead.

Before he moved to see me, I quickly busied myself with picking at my nails.

“Smells good,” he commented, grabbing a plate and cutting up a banana on the side. “Don’t you normally have a smoothie in the morning?”

“Not while Issy’s asleep.”

He kept his tired frown as he clattered around with the appliances. Then the burr of the blender had my head whirling around. Crazy man didn’t care for his life.

Dom may have moved out at eighteen, but surely he remembered Issy was not one to be awoken unless she woke herself. Back when she surfed as a teenager, she was up at the crack of dawn. Now, it took at least four alarms.

A minute later, he plopped down a coaster before me and placed the smoothie on top. “Don’t worry about my sister. Do what you want.”

I nodded, facing the TV so I didn’t look up at him. When I took the metal straw in my mouth, I was pleasantly surprised to taste that he’d clearly been paying more attention than I’d ever thought. There was a hint of honey.

“So your clothes are in your room,” he said, sitting on the other end of the sofa. “And you weren’t carrying any clothes with you when you attempted to escape.”

My response was the suction of my empty glass through my straw.

“I’m assuming you would have tried to sneak past Roc?”

I nodded, refusing to put words into this conversation.

“You were going to get a taxi back this morning? Or would he have driven you back?”

Before I could stop myself, I was frowning and shaking my head.

“You would have got on public transport in nothing but those sexy pyjamas?”

If there was any more smoothie left, I would have choked on it. I observed him through narrowed vision. He didn’t seem like he was being cruel; his gaze and question appeared genuine. “No. You seemed keen to drive, so maybe I was relying on you to pick me up.”

“I would not be picking you up from a hook-up,” he said, top lip curled. Four beats of silence. “Well?”

“I have clothes there.” Because, yes, I was yet to gain the courage to go to his place to get my things. A part of me was happy to go without.

“Why do you still have clothes there?” Grit was in his voice.

Again, I sucked on the straw.

“Leonie.” His tone held all the depths of a warning, demanding an answer.

“What?” I snapped.

He looked me up and down but — for once — not necessarily in distaste. “It sounds like you’re still holding onto him.”

I breathed a laugh. “Most definitely not.”

“Then get your shit from his place,” he said as if it was simple, leaning back on the sofa as he clicked through channels on the TV. “Move on.”

“What if that’s what I tried to do last night?”

He stopped clicking through, landing on the news.

Issy shuffled into the room, her hand slapped to her forehead, her ginger hair wild. “Don’t lie. You were going there to get laid,” she said, her voice deep and raspy with sleep. Her eyes narrowed on the glass in my hand. “Did we have to put on the loudest—” But she stopped mid-sentence when she saw her plate. She smiled and immediately started cutting with her knife and fork. “Thank fuck for waffles.”