Page 19 of The Blame Game

“Yeah, I get that part,” Dom snapped. “Believe me.”

Because fuck, he certainly didn’t want people getting wind of that. Not that he thought what they’d done was something to be ashamed of, but it made his skin crawl to imagine people discussing his personal life that way.

Judging him.

And Dom wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly how they’d react. How unhappy management would be. How much his coach, Michael Gilbert, would blow his top.

Dom didn’t want to deal with any of that.

But when it came down to right and wrong, it was wrong to treat anyone so disposably.

Dom looked Shea in the eye. “I will never deny that I’m an asshole who looks out for my own best interest but there’s a line I won’t cross and if I could make the decision I made last night all over again, I’d do the exact same thing.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Shea stared open-mouthed as Dom left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

He’d tossed that verbal bomb at Shea along with some clothes and told him to come out when he was ready to eat breakfast and discuss their current situation with Kate.

It was going to take a lot more time than they had for Shea to process Dom’s comment so he decided he should focus on the clothes.

That part was easier.

Shea dressed in Dom’s clothing—sweats and a tee, because there was no way he’d fit in anything more tailored than that—washed his face, brushed his teeth, then stared at himself in Dom’s bathroom mirror.

Well, nothing to do but go face the music.

Whatever that music was.

At this point, Shea had no idea what to expect.

Apparently, he’d landed himself in the middle of some PR disaster that needed to be dealt with quickly and if Dom hadn’t abandoned him last night to fend for himself, well, Shea wouldn’t leave him to deal with it alone either, unless he was asked to.

He squared his shoulders, grabbed the coffee cup off the dresser, then walked into the dining room.

This time, he took a closer look at the woman on the far side of the table.

Kate Foster was a statuesque blonde and Shea had an idle thought that she’d have made a killing as an escort.

Or, possibly, a pro-Domme.

She’d been nothing but polite to him but there was a steely edge that lurked under the sweetness that was impossible to miss.

She reminded him of Audra.

“Sorry about the interruption earlier,” Shea said, aiming for a sincere smile and probably missing by a wide margin.

“And I’m sorry I woke you both so early,” she said, her smile warm. “It sounds like you had quite the long night.”

“Yeah, I hope I never have to deal with that again,” he agreed, rubbing his face.

“Please, help yourself to breakfast.” She gestured to the food in front of them.

Dom was already eating, so Shea helped himself to a bagel, loaded it with cream cheese, and put some smoked salmon on top.

Ha. Smoked. He felt like he was a damn smoked salmon this morning.

“Okay,” she said, folding her hands and staring at them across the table. “This is the situation we’re in. JockGossip has insinuated that the two of you are romantically, or least sexually, involved. They don’t have your name, Sawyer, but it’s not impossible that they could dig that up.”

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