11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Dominic

"I can't believe I just did that," she mutters, mortification evident in her voice.

"It happens," I say, though my tone lacks conviction.

She looks up at me, her eyes pleading for forgiveness. "I promise I'll make it up to you."

I shake my head, a small smile playing on my lips despite the situation. "Don't worry about it. Let's just get you home. If you're sick, you should be resting."

As we climb into the back of the waiting car, she leans against me, her earlier cheer replaced by exhaustion. "Thanks," she murmurs, her words barely audible over the hum of the engine.

I wrap an arm around her shoulders, offering what little comfort I can. "Don't mention it," I reply, my annoyance melting away as I realize just how vulnerable she is in this moment.

I stroke her hair absentmindedly. It's soft, long, and smells like something sweet. I wonder for a moment if the honey color is natural.

Her mother's hair is much darker, just like Will's, but since her father is bald, I really can't tell if she'd have inherited lighter hair from him.

"When is your birthday?" Gianna asks me, not moving her head. The ride is taking much longer than I anticipated. I thought she'd fallen asleep already.

"March. The twenty-seventh," I answer her immediately, only after realizing that my birthday isn't something I usually share with people.

Vince knows it, but we've never done big birthdays. Personal details like that are how people get hacked and blackmailed, and it's one of my rules not to open myself up to those kinds of things.

"Aries…" she mumbles. It takes me a few seconds to realize she's talking about my Zodiac sign.

"Is that good?" I've heard things about the good signs and the evil signs, but I have no idea if my darkness was written in the stars before I was ever even bad.

"Mmm. Not bad," she says, stroking my forearm with her finger.

"I'm glad." I'll take her word for it.

***

I can hear my stomach growling as I get out of the car on my street.

There's a little pizza place right below my building. The pizzas are massive and greasy, and there's always a conversation to be had with the old lady who owns it.

I've helped her keep the thugs away from her shop ever since I moved in, and she makes sure I get extra toppings for free.

I order a pepperoni special and then use the bathroom. Picking up my pizza, I walk up to my loft, typing a text message as I navigate the stairs.

D: All's well that ends well. But please be more careful, Gianna.

My phone pings, and I put the slice of pizza down, wiping the oil from my fingers. Picking up the device, I see Gianna's number pop up.

G: I will. Silly, silly mistake tonight. Never again.

I left her right outside her house, and by the time she walked in the door, she looked a lot better than when I found her at the bar.

I'm not sure what tonight was about. If she was any other woman, I'd put it down to attention-seeking, but somehow, I don't think that's what Gianna was doing.

I also have to admit that I'm worried about her evidently being sick and still choosing to go out and spend time in a bar.

And why wasn't she drinking if she went to a bar? None of it makes sense.

D: Sorry if I disappointed you tonight.

G: You didn't get that far ;)

I chuckle at her wit, although it's a low blow.

D: Maybe that's why…

G: I doubt it.

This girl is about to get me into trouble — although it's easy trouble compared to the kind I get myself into most days.

Continuing to see her puts a lot of things at risk. Not only do I stand to lose a friend, but since her father is my client, there's the question of integrity and anonymity.

Giving into temptation once or twice was one thing, but if I keep seeing her, there is bound to be a shitstorm waiting for us both.

She keeps texting me and we flirt until she tells me she's falling asleep.

G: Please don't let Will find out about tonight.

D: About the puking? Or the old guys checking you out?

G: About you seeing me.

D: Ah.

G: He's warned me that you're dangerous.

D: He's right.

G: So dangerous that you give up your night's plans to come and save a silly girl from a bar?

D: Something like that.

I wait a whole twenty minutes, but Gianna doesn't send another text.

I assume she's fallen asleep. I think about what Will told her, wondering just how much he's told her about me.

He's never come across as judgmental. Lord knows I could judge him for a few things as well.

But if I had any siblings to worry about, I might also be extra careful about who they choose to spend their time with.

The only problem for Will is, I don't like to be told what to do. And while I know that continuing to see Gianna would be a mistake, having Will try to turn her off on me makes me want her even more. Like it's going to somehow prove something to Will.

I am a dangerous man, but not to people like Gianna. And because I'm so dangerous, at least he'd know that Gianna was fully protected. Unlike under her brother's watch, drinking at random bars all alone.

It's like her family has no regard for her safety. She can't be wandering around the city like that. Her family is involved with some very shady stuff. She could just go missing one day and they would feel incredibly stupid for not protecting her better.

Then my thoughts land on Gianna. If William has told her how dangerous I am, and her response was to try and booty call me tonight, then clearly, he didn't do a good job of scaring her off.

The girl is smart, but she's also got a side to her that craves some excitement.

I could easily make her heart race faster, throw it in her brother's face, and enjoy more of that warm pussy and ass that she so willingly offers to me.

So why am I worrying about the stupid stuff?

We're both grown and able to consent for ourselves. If Gianna and I want to fuck each other every now and then, who's going to stop us?

***

"Dominic Santoro?" I turn at the sound of my name to see two police officers standing behind me in the local coffee shop.

I just came down to get out of my loft and enjoy a cup of coffee in peace, yet somehow, I still can't escape people who want to interact with me.

"Who's asking?" I don't remember either of the faces. They're both older than me, one male and one female, and they both look like they feel more important than they are.

The woman is pretty despite the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. She looks like she's been through it in her career, but it's made her not take crap. The man looks like almost every other male cop I've ever met.

He's aging and clearly not working the beat he wants to be assigned to. His face is tired, but also angry, and his hairline is receding horribly.

I wonder how long they've been watching this street, waiting to catch me in a public space where they can interrogate me without needing a warrant for my arrest. That's something they wouldn't get easily in this city.

"We are," the female cop says.

"We need to ask you about a man who was murdered down the road from your apartment last week," the man chimes in.

"Okay." The barista hands me my coffee and I walk slowly to a booth. They follow me.

I can see the woman eyeing my tattoos. I've gotten one for every man I've killed. Sometimes they symbolize something relating to the departed souls themselves. Other times I let the artists choose a random symbol or image.

"Sources say that you were seen near the victim before he died."

"Victim," I scoff, taking a sip of scalding coffee.

"You don't think a man who was hung upside down and bled out in his garage was a victim?" Lady-cop is being sassy, and it makes me smirk.

"It's common knowledge that he was on trial for raping a teenager, and he was about to be let off," I say directly to her, matter-of-factly.

"So killing him was better than allowing the justice system to do its work?" The man is staring me down. I don't like him and the feeling is very obviously mutual.

"Never said that." I keep my eyes on the woman, annoying her partner on purpose.

"No, I suppose you didn't. Did you know him?" she continues her interrogation. I make eye contact and see her swallow.

"Nope. He was selling a microwave, and I went to check it out."

"Did you buy it?" the partner pipes up again. He's trying to keep control of the situation, but seems to be a lot less experienced than his partner.

"Nope. It had rust in it." I take the lid off my coffee and stir it with a sugar stick, keeping my gaze focused on the woman in front of me.

"Right," is all she says.

"I haven't seen you two around. You new?" I look between them both, standing up to show I'm done with this conversation.

"We're on temporary transfer. From a county over." Lady cop puts her hand on her belt, caressing her gun as if she's worried that I'll cause trouble in a public space. I laugh internally.

"All right, well, enjoy Chicago! Great pizza down the road. Just follow the smell. And I hope you find answers for the poor dead rapist's murder." I smile at them and walk toward the door, waving at the barista as I leave.

As I walk back to my loft, my mind races. Vince has always had a good relationship with the cops in the city.

Even those who aren't on our payroll respect us enough not to dig too deeply when things slip through the cracks. I'm not sure who could have seen me with my rapist neighbor, but having two new cops running around is going to get annoying.

I make a mental note to talk to Vince about having them transferred back, or getting enough dirt on them to keep them in our control.

I make another note to be more careful about potential witnesses. Even if they're sweet old ladies who enjoy peeking out of their windows, they need to be dealt with.

As I'm about to get in the elevator in my building, my phone rings. I take it out of my pocket and see Gianna's name.

It's only seven at night, so she can't be in too much trouble. I think about ignoring it for a moment, needing to focus on this police thing, but the temptation is just too much.

"Hello?"