Chapter Eleven

The next week, I’m just finishing my closing tasks when a knock comes from the front window of the bar. I look up to see Dominic standing there with a patient half-smile. Unable to stop myself, I grin and walk over to the door, unlocking it as he steps inside.

“Didn’t you have some meeting that would run long?” I ask as he locks the door behind him.

“I said long, not all night, babygirl. I can’t let you go home alone, can I?”

I bite back my smile before turning to finish up my closing tasks, mainly because I don’t want him to see the excitement on my face that he showed up tonight. Since we’ve been together, I haven’t worked a shift that he hasn’t been present for, apart from today. Obviously, he has a job, several actually, and he can’t spend every waking minute with me, but I was unreasonably disappointed when he said he wouldn’t be by tonight.

“How’d your meeting go?” I ask as I grab the mop bucket and begin mopping the front of the house.

Dominic holds a hand up, stopping my motion before he rolls up the sleeves of his no doubt ridiculously expensive dress shirt and takes the mop from me. I’m stunned for a moment as I watch this larger-than-life, powerful man doing something as mundane as mopping a dive bar floor. For me. He’s gonna have to mop me up too, because the small action has turned me into a pile of goo.

“It went well.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t pry, mainly because I know it’s futile. We’ve seen each other nonstop for a week, and I hardly know a thing about him. Normally that wouldn’t bother me. I like to stay as far away from the topic of pasts with others, but for some reason, I want more from him. I need it.

We close up the bar in comfortable silence, and I slide into his sleek black Audi before he drives us back to my place. Without a word, he parks in the visitor spot and gets my door for me, locking the car behind us as he ushers us up to my apartment.

“I’m gonna go change,” I say.

He nods and moves to the kitchen, making himself at home as he scours through the cabinets. I watch as Dominic frowns when he noticeably comes up empty. Discomfort seeps in as I fidget under his stare.

“I haven’t been to the grocery store in a while. I need to go soon.”

“You went last week,” he reminds me.

I flinch just slightly at the reminder. Shit, yeah, I guess I did.

Dominic stares at me for several more seconds before he nods, shutting the cabinet in front of him and pulling out his phone.

“Looks like a diner is the only thing that’s available right now. That sound okay?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll go pick it up. Be back soon,” he says, walking over to me and pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

Annnnnd there he goes. Running for the hills from the poor slummy girl. Okay, I don’t think that’s actually what he’s doing, but I can’t help but feel uncomfortable. Based on his obvious wealth, I’m sure he doesn’t know what it’s like to not have cabinets full. I’m sure he doesn’t even go grocery shopping on his own, at least outside of here and there.

I ditch my clothes, slipping on a soft pair of cotton sleep shorts and a tank top. I skip the bra because those things are medieval torture devices, and I refuse to wear one for any longer than necessary.

I’m lying in bed, flipping through potential movies to watch, when I hear a knock come from my door. I frown, getting out of bed and opening the door, surprised to find Dominic waiting with a bag of what smells like takeout diner food.

“You look surprised,” he says as his eyes flick across my face. “Did you think I wasn’t coming back?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Didn’t think too much of it, I guess.” I laugh lightly.

Liar.

Dominic doesn’t seem to buy it, but he humors me by stepping inside and dropping the topic. He moves to the dining room table when I shake my head.

“Bring it to the bedroom. I do not have the energy to be anything other than horizontal right now.”

An amused chuckle escapes him, but he nods and follows after me through my postage stamp-sized apartment. When we step inside my bedroom, I take the bag from him and begin unpacking the insane amount of contents inside. He always orders enough food to feed an army, I swear. I mean, I guess he is the size of a small army alone, but still.

Pancakes, french toast, eggs, hash browns, and even two club sandwiches litter my comforter. My stomach audibly groans in celebration, and I waste no time grabbing one of the orders of pancakes and the provided syrup. I dig into the stack, cutting through it with the plastic fork, before unceremoniously shoving it into my mouth. God, I’m so attractive when I’m hungry.

I look over to see Dominic watching me with a small smile before he shakes his head.

“What?” I ask over a mouthful of food.

“I love that you aren’t afraid to eat in front of me.”

My brows dip at that. “Why would I be afraid to eat in front of you in my own house?”

He nods and keeps his smile in place.

“Very good point.”

I give him a wink and happily work through a solid quarter of the amount of food he brought, and the man, being a literal beast, eats the remainder. When we’re all finished, he gathers up the containers before throwing them all away and coming back into the room.

He sits down on the bed, dragging my feet into his lap before he begins rubbing them. I practically scream out in pleasure as he digs his thumbs into the arches of my feet. It feels better than anything I’ve ever felt. Better than a hot shower on a cold day, better than sex. Okay, not that good, but god, it feels amazing, though.

“What did I do to deserve this?” I practically moan.

“You worked hard today, baby. Has no one ever rubbed your feet?”

“Never.” I laugh immediately, causing him to apply more pressure to a spot that apparently is extremely sore. I moan and groan in pleasure as Dominic chuckles to himself but silently keeps working at me.

I’m practically a pliable mess in bed when I speak before thinking about it. “I don’t know anything about you,” I blurt.

His movements stall for a moment before he speaks. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything, everything,” I say as my eyes collide with his.

They look so shielded, so guarded. I wonder if mine looks the same as his. I’m asking for him to let it all down for me, but I’m sitting here unwilling to do the same. So, I lean my head against the mattress, closing my eyes as I let out a slow breath.

“My parents died when I was six,” I say.

Dominic is still for three more seconds before he begins massaging my feet once more, as if he were trying to coax the words out of me.

“My father got drunk one night, not out of the norm by any means, and confronted my mother. I guess she had been having an affair. I was upstairs while they were down in the kitchen. I didn’t hear everything. All I heard was screaming, such loud screaming. I heard hitting like punches, and then I heard a gunshot.”

I swallow as the pop from the gun, followed by the ringing, still plays in my head.

“I got up from my room and went downstairs to see what was happening when I heard a thunk. When I crested the corner downstairs, I heard another gunshot, followed by another thunk. This time I knew what it was. My father’s body fell to the floor in front of me, his eyes wide and…blood. So much blood,” I choke out, doing my best to remain composed.

I feel my throat tighten and tears beg to be let free, but I won’t allow them. Instead, I breathe through it, risking a glance at Dominic. He’s watching me with a steady gaze. It isn’t necessarily pity in his expression, but it’s definitely empathetic. It’s a look that makes me feel seen, yet not victimized.

“I was young, you know. I didn’t fully understand what had happened, and there was just so much blood. I wanted to help, and so I tried scooping it up and pushing it back into their bodies. It didn’t work, obviously, and when the police found me, I was sitting there just…soaked in their blood. Apparently I didn’t talk for a few weeks after that. I don’t really remember much after that night until I was adopted on my seventh birthday.”

“Were they good to you? Your adoptive parents?” Dominic asks.

I smile sadly as I remember Mr. and Mrs. Harrison.

“They were until they passed away. Car accident.”

Wow. Way to trauma dump, Blake. I would have been happy learning his favorite color or if he had any childhood animals. I didn’t need to unload one of the darkest moments of my life like that. Oh well, at least I kept the darker memories to myself, the ones I never allow the light of day to see, the ones I never will.

We’re silent for several moments before he speaks.

“My parents died when I was nine. Drug bust gone wrong. They were junkies, but they tried. My mom always sang to me before bed. Fleetwood Mac because it was the only songs her fried brain could remember,” he says with a tone akin to fondness. “She swore she sounded just like Stevie Nicks, and I humored her because if she was singing to me, she wasn’t fighting with my dad or doing worse in the living room.”

I’m stunned into silence. I expected him to be sympathetic. Apologize because no one ever knows what to say in these situations and move on or get the hell out. I definitely didn’t expect him to open up. I’m afraid to even breathe in risk of spooking him, so instead, I sit quietly and listen.

“Whenever they needed their fix, they would drop me off at the neighbor’s apartment and head down the road. One night, they didn’t come back to pick me up, and the cops knocked on the neighbor’s door.” He ends it with a casual shrug and an impassive face.

I frown at that. “You didn’t have family? Anyone to take you in?”

“I had an uncle. He died,” he says flatly.

“And then you went into the system,” I guess.

He nods. “I was adopted shortly after their funeral and stayed at that house until I was eighteen.”

“You were one of the lucky ones,” I say wistfully, but my small smile dies when I see the look on his face. He doesn’t agree or disagree, but something in me tells me there is way more to the story. But I’ve pushed him enough for one night, and I climb into his lap, wrapping my arms around him.

I feel him hesitate, as if he were still trapped in those memories, but reluctantly, he wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tight as if I could vanish out of thin air at any moment.