Chapter 4

Dominick

"And with this back section, I think you could do that water feature with the lakeside patio you're always talking about."

Jay points at the specs for the new restaurant we're working on. I have to admit, the chance to actually design this thing with the lakeside attraction I've wanted to build for some time now seems incredibly appealing.

"I like it." I nod casually as I take another sip of my whiskey. "But what about the overall vibe? I can't see that working in another place like Opal. Please tell me we're keeping it a bit more low-key this time."

With a roll of his eyes, the eldest Shaw brother plops down on the chair in front of my desk and smirks.

"You'll get your woodsy restaurant. Just like you want."

"I better. I've been plenty patient. Luke got his damn roller rink club in three months, and I'm not even sure he actually thought that one through."

A hard laugh cuts through Jay, and he rubs absently at the seam of his prosthetic leg where it sits below his knee. It's hard to notice beneath the tailored slacks, but I know the thing gets sore by the end of the day.

"Forethought or not, Luke was actually onto something there. The Rhinestone is doing really well. I hate to admit it as much as you, but apparently, there is a market for a seventies-era roller rink with alcohol."

"Fucking hell, that's sad. What is this world coming to?"

I raise my glass toward him, and Jay lifts his in return. The toast to "better days" is an ironic one because we both know we'd rather die than go back there.

"Anyway. I'll need your final touches on the design by next week, and I'll need the books and staffing update from Anthony tomorrow."

"Yes, sir, sergeant."

"Ha ha." Jay glares. "If you'd like to prepare the taxes for all twelve of our investments, be my guest. I'm not doing it because I enjoy it. I just can't trust you assholes to do it right."

"Hello? Who are you talking to?" I raise my brows at him. "I run this place just fine, and I do it with Sapphire and The Rock Wall, too."

"Yeah, yeah. Just get the shit to me, okay? I'm up to my ass in paperwork that I need to review with Cameron."

That's as close to a please as I'm going to get from Jay, so I just nod, finishing the whiskey and checking the clock.

"Fuck. It's 3:30 a.m. I need at least a few hours if I'm going to be any good tomorrow. Today."

Jay eyes the time similarly, getting up to stretch and readjust his leg. I know he's looking forward to taking it off.

"Ugh. All right. I'm out." Jay starts toward the door but stops. "Oh, I forgot to tell you that Mom's nurse said she's going to switch up her meds. I guess the one painkiller is making her too foggy."

"Painkiller?" I furrow my brows at him.

"Remember, for the hip pain?"

He waits for me to recall this information, and I sigh as it clicks. That's right. It's been getting worse .

"Right. Okay. How's the chronic stuff?"

"As good as expected." Jay's tone gets short, and I can see he's clenching his jaw. "She's…hanging in. About as well as anyone after a lifetime of drug abuse."

My eyes fall to the floor as a familiar knot forms in my gut. Mom shouldn't have been in that situation, and yeah, no one should, but it's different with her.

"Dom?"

I look up to see Jay's worried expression, and it's as welcome as a slap to the face.

"I'm fine. It just…you know, it sucks, is all."

"Yeah. I know. But it's better. Mom's getting the care she needs, which is more than I can say for how it was before we got back."

I remember finding her when the three of us got back from our respective time with the Marines. We'd done our service, discharged with honors, and there she was, near dead on her linoleum floor because some shithole druggie boyfriend got her messed up again.

"Just wish we could have gotten to her sooner."

It's a familiar tune for me, but I can't help it.

Dad was an abusive fuck, and we'd all run off to join the military to get away from him, leaving Mom behind to clean up the mess. Obviously, it didn't go well.

"We were messed up kids looking for a way out of that house, Dom. You can't blame yourself for seeing an opportunity to do so and taking it. There was no way we could stay with Dad. It took everything in us to keep him focused on us and not Luke."

"I'm aware, Jay. But we weren't really kids, were we? We were eighteen. And we could have…I don't know. It's just…we got away, didn't we? And she…she didn't."

Jay walks over, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing tight. He's always worn the mantle of the oldest pretty damn well.

Still, even I know that coming home to find our mother had been from one asshole boyfriend to the next added a weight to his shoulders that he didn't want to carry.

At least he never had to do it alone.

"She has what she needs now. And we'll be sure that never changes. Right?" Jay eyes me hard.

I nod. "Right."

We smash together in a rough hug, pounding on each other's shoulders a bit, unable to shake the Marine Corps habit.

"All right, beat it. I want to go home." I pull back, grinning at him.

"Then let me out, fucker. You have the keys to lock up the joint."

I escort Jay out the front, locking up behind him, then make my way to the parking lot out back where my car is parked. Making sure everything is in order, I hop in the Rolls-Royce Cullinan, check the mirrors, and take off for my penthouse.

The warm air circulates around me as I lean back on my low-slung leather couch. There's a fire crackling in the fireplace and another glass of top-shelf booze in my hand.

All in all, it's not a bad way to end the night. What's strange, though, is that after my typical internal guilt trip over the fate of dear old Mom, there's another interesting someone taking up my thoughts.

And what exactly she's doing in there, I don't know.

"Ugh." I sigh, raking a hand down my face as I remember the way Chloe looked at the club.

The hot tights and wig were definitely a sexy look, and yet, it's the soft waves of brown hair that fill my mind. The way they framed her face as her whiskey-colored eyes met mine.

I can imagine running my fingers through those locks, dragging my hands down her shoulders and back to find that juicy ass of hers. She's far from a stick figure, and I adore those hourglass curves.

My thoughts churn, turning darker, more hungry for this intriguing woman who's somehow come back into my life. It's like I can feel her in my grip, sitting on my lap and rocking those hips across me.

"Fuuuck."

I'm hard as a rock.

Then, my brain conjures up the image of popping the clasp on her bra and finally getting the chance to explore her tits with my hands, teeth, and tongue.

Goddamn. To hear her moan while I take her.

But just as I reach down and fist my cock, squeezing it through my slacks, I remember how freaked out she got.

Terrified .

There was no mistaking the emotion behind her eyes when we'd gotten close.

Still, while I certainly can't deny that I give off a particular vibe, I've never garnered that reaction before. At least not that I've noticed.

"What is going on in that head of yours, Chloe?"

My thoughts threaten to scramble once more at speaking her name, and I realize my hand is still hovering over my zipper. Abruptly, I stand and walk down the hall to my bedroom.

"It's beyond late, and you need sleep." I look down. "So can it with the fantasies, asshole."

My dick doesn't seem to care that Chole is both Anthony's little sister and my employee, however, because as I lay down in my bed, making sure my phone's plugged in, I'm imagining those full lips and crashing my own against them.

Rolling over and into the middle of the California king mattress, I lay on my stomach. Because I am not going to keep this up.

No, I'm going to sleep, and I'm leaving all those thoughts about Chole's perfect fucking tits in the past.

I close my arms around my head, tossing the pillow to the side.

"Really fucking perfect tits."

I ball my hands into fists, digging them into my temples.

"And an amazing ass. Top tier."

Flipping over onto my back again, I stare at the ceiling. There's a fancy overhead light affixed to it with simple chrome accents around a large circle that takes up a good three feet.

"You are distracting yourself with the fucking light fixture."

I sigh, closing my eyes and trying to settle down into the mattress and pass out, and for a moment, it almost works.

But then the sheets rub against me, and I'm reminded of how hard I still am. This is insane. I've never been this gone over someone, let alone after I spent a whopping ten minutes with them.

I can't get Chloe out of my head, though. It's her curves and the absence of that light I used to see in her. I have to know what happened. I have to put it right.

There's a darkness dogging her steps, and despite my better judgment, my head is screaming at me to step in and help her.

I want to know she's taken care of. I want her around so I can be sure of it.

I want to know it in my bones because there's no way danger could find her if she's safely underneath me.

My hand is on my cock before I can think better of it, and I start stroking.

"It's fine. Just relieving a little tension. Getting it out of my system. That's all."

The softness of her skin, the delicate grace that she exudes so effortlessly, I imagine it up against my hard, sharp angles.

I imagine her hands on me, her lips, her tongue. I think about the way Chloe would look, her head bobbing up and down on my cock as she swallows me down.

"Fuck."

I can see her pussy stretching around my shaft as her body yields completely to mine. Claiming her. That's what my mind pictures; taking every inch of her and making it mine.

I'm right up to the edge of orgasm in seconds, my balls tight as I ache for release. I really don't do this often, but with Chloe as motivation, I'm desperate for the climax.

As a burn sets up shop in my spine, my eyes screw up tight. I fist my cock brutally hard, working it faster and faster.

"Oh, fuck, Chloe."

Her name leaves me on a growl as thoughts of ramming deep into her hot, wet heat blind out everything else in the room, and I buck into my hand as I come.

I spill everything I have onto the sheet on top of me, and it's several minutes before I can get myself cleaned up and back to bed.

As I make a concerted effort to pass out, the last thing I think is, Okay. That was it, Dom. You're done. No more Chloe Hamilton.