Page 85 of The Dominator

She giggled as I put her down near the bed and reached for my keys. She wanted five minutes to freshen up and grab her purse, so I waited in the Jeep for her, thinking about the fact that I had to go to Vegas for some business and that I didn’t want to leave her at the house.

I didn’t want to leave her because, a) I still wasn’t content the security issues that plagued me after Earl and then after the shooting yesterday were totally resolved. I knew that there’d very likely be blowback from what I did in Mexico because Castillo had a nephew who was semi- local. He was a small-time drug dealer and thug and it was him and his guys that’d breached security and gotten in by scaling up and in from behind the swimming pool. A taller fence was being put in today to make sure no one could get in that way.

Still, I needed to see that nothing would go wrong before trusting anything. And besides, b) I hated the thought of her not being beside me at night. What a one-eighty from congratulating myself so frequently that I had my king size bed all to myself to now aching for her when she wasn’t in my sights. The night I’d taken her to dinner and the beach when I’d left her alone for the night had been a long cold and sleepless night in a guest room without her warmth wrapped around me. The nights in Mexico without her had been torment, not feeling her, not hearing her breathing.

The Japanese restaurant I took her to was almost empty. The hostess I’d talked to that morning wasn’t in sight. The rest of the staff welcomed us and pointed to a table. She didn’t know what to order so I told her I’d order for us.

She examined everything carefully and skeptically but tried every dish that the server put in front of her after having first asked the waiter about shellfish. The waiter had waved her concerns off because of what we’d ordered but he didn’t speak very clear English. She was good-natured about it despite telling me she hadn’t been a very adventurous eater in life so far.

“No shit, Miss Vanilla Ice Cream is my Favorite,” I teased.

She blushed bright pink. “Until I found you, Mr. Blackjack Berry Thunder. Or should I say, until I was betrothed to you.”

She didn’t look unhappy when she said that. I smiled at her. “I’m expanding your palate, and your horizons.” I wiggled my eyebrows at her.

She wiggled hers back at me. “Mm hm. So you’re off on a business trip?” she added.

I scrunched up my face. “Yeah.”

“Unpleasant business?” she asked, then she added, “Or should I not ask?”

I shook my head. “I’m just not looking forward to leaving you at home. I’m thinking I should take you with me.”

“Really? Why? Where?” She looked excited and the idea of her being happy to come with me instead of having time without me felt good. Real good.

“Yeah, it’s too soon for me since the security breaches at home to feel comfortable, so I don’t know that I’d be all that productive unless you were with Dare. But he’s too wrapped up with work shit to be your bodyguard 24/7. I’m vetting a few of my senior guys and will make a decision soon about rotations for security for the house. And I’m not sure I want to be without you.”

She blushed and smiled at me.

“So, tomorrow maybe after we see your foster parents we can go home and pack for Vegas.”

Her face lit up, “Vegas?”

I nodded. She clapped her hands and then was suddenly downtrodden.

“What?” I asked.

“I’m nineteen. Vegas isn’t fun unless you’re twenty-one.” She pouted.

“Unless you’re a high roller,” I said. “No one will card you when you’re with me, baby girl.”

Her smile returned. She took a sip of her Japanese green tea and then started to scratch at her chest. I leaned forward because I could see big blotchy hives across her neck and cleavage. She was a little pale.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I hope nothing we ate had any shellfish.”

She didn’t look good at all.

“You’d better go make yourself puke, Tia. Now!” I waved the waiter over as she dashed to the bathroom. I tried to talk to the waiter, but he kept telling me no to the shellfish question. Clearly, she was having a reaction to the fucking food. Bonehead.

I burst into the bathroom, finding her sitting on the floor beside the toilet in a cold sweat and she looked like death warmed over. Fuck!

I pulled out my phone and called 9-1-1. They were too slow, so I called back from the Jeep and told them never mind. I’d carried her to it then sped down the highway to the hospital five minutes away, carrying her in myself, losing my shit until they rushed out and got her on a gurney. She’d still been conscious, but she was covered in hives and she told me her heart was racing.

By the time she was stuck with a needle, stable, and admitted in the little country hospital I’d found out the restaurant’s miso soup’s secret family ingredient was clams. The hostess had originally had no idea because it was a secret recipe, and the waiter was a fucking bonehead for not alerting the kitchen.

She was going to be fine. They’d given her epinephrine and wanted to watch her overnight. I spent the night in the chair in her room.

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