Page 23 of The Blame Game

“Kate is very good at PR,” Dom said grimly.

“Apparently.”

“Now, I need to make a call to my agent and make a decision.”

“Do I get any say in how this ultimately goes down?” Shea asked.

Dom grimaced. “Shit. I’m sorry. I got tunnel vision there for a moment.”

Shea nodded. “I get that. And I know you have a lot to lose but uh, I do too.”

Compared to many places, Ontario was relatively tolerant toward escorts. They didn’t criminalize the sale of sexual services, but prosecutors did tend to go after those advertising it or the people who purchased those services.

Dom was more likely to face legal difficulties over their arrangement than Shea was, but still. They both had to worry about repercussions to their careers and reputations.

“I’m sorry. I’m stressed but I know you have a lot to lose too.”

“I know.” Shea reached out to touch Dom’s shoulder, reassure him, but he flinched and Shea drew back.

Oh, so it was like that now.

“I get why you’re stressed,” Shea said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of Dom’s sweats. “And I want to help you. I need to be sure I’m not going to completely screw myself over in the process.”

“I hear you.” Dom sighed. “And I don’t want you to get screwed over either. Look, maybe you should head home now and I can call my agent. I’ll call you once I’ve talked to him and we can make a decision once I have all of the information.”

“Well, there are a couple of problems with that,” Shea reminded him. “One, I have no idea what happened to my phone. And, two, Kate didn’t want me to be spotted leaving your building.”

“Shit, I forgot about the phone.”

Dom dragged a hand through his hair and he looked so tired all of a sudden. Stressed and weary. And that didn’t even factor in the back issues he’d been having.

Fuck, what a mess.

Dom paced for a minute, and Shea watched him, aching because he couldn’t help Dom and he hated that what he’d tried to do to help him last night had made his life worse.

That wasn’t what Shea wanted. He only wanted to be here for Dom, make his life easier. Make him happier. Make him smile.

Not frown and scowl and mutter to himself like he was doing now.

“Okay,” Dom said, lifting his head. “How about this? I’ll call the car service and request a vehicle with tinted windows. If you get into the vehicle in the underground parking and leave from there, the risk of you being spotted is minimal. Once you’re home, I’ll have a new phone delivered to your place that we can use to communicate.”

“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m in a Hollywood spy movie?”

Dom gave him a weak grin. “Well, the good news is there should be fewer guys with guns.”

“There’s that. Yeah, your plan sounds good though. It makes sense. And once I’m home, I’ll call my boss about taking a few days off.”

“Perfect.” Dom nodded toward the couch. “Why don’t you relax while I get those things taken care of? Help yourself to anything you need.”

That was clearly a dismissal, so Shea wandered into the living room while Dom pulled out his phone.

Shea didn’t sit, instead choosing to walk over to the enormous windows.

Dom’s apartment had phenomenal panoramic views of Lake Ontario.

Shea whistled under his breath at the sight. It was a bright February day and the sun sparkled off the water of the harbor. It was a beautiful view and the building couldn’t have been more than a ten-or-fifteen-minute drive from the arena.

Somehow that didn’t surprise Shea. Dom had always been punctual and Shea knew by now that he hated his routines getting interrupted.

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