Page 9 of Inspiring Dominic

I grinned. “I hope we can, too, Dom.”

“Prescott,” he told me, sticking out his hand. “That’s my last name.”

My smile almost faltered, but I caught myself. “Nice to officially meet you Dominic Prescott,” I stated, accepting his hand.

Little did he know, I knewexactlywho he was and had known before I’d felt his lips on mine that day at the bar.

Chapter 2

DOMINIC

If there was one thing I hated more than pretentious assholes who thought they were better than everyone, it was late pretentious assholes who didn’t respect a man’s time.

“He’s late,” I said to Maverick who was on the other end of my FaceTime call. “I don’t know why I had to be the one to meet with this guy.”

“Who else do you think would have been better? He’s in Miami, and Ava and I are up to our eyeballs in work. Hunter is busy. And Coop is … being Coop. You’re the best choice.”

“I beg to differ,” I huffed, glancing around the outdoor patio of the café where I was waiting to meet the journalist who’d been trashing Prescott Holdings in the media for months.

“Suck it up, cupcake, and handle that shit. We need the reporter to stand down, so figure out what he wants so we can make it happen.”

I pinched the bridge of nose, wondering if Maverick truly understood what he was asking me. He was smack-talkin’ cut-throat businessman and handling matters like this were more his speed.

“See, there it is,” Maverick said. “You can stop your bitching. I just got a notification that he’s arrived. Do you see him?”

“What does he look like?”

“No one knows,” Maverick informed me. “Dom, has it been that long since you handled a business meeting face-to-face outside of Rosewood Heights?”

“You know I’m more of a behind the scenes kind of guy, but this isn’t just any meeting. We have a lot riding on this.”

“I know, but you’ve got this,” Mav encouraged. “Just look for the guy who seems to be searching for someone else.”

My eyes scanned inside and outside of the restaurant and came up short. I was just about to complain to Mav that the journalist must have been lying when something made me glance across the street from the café.

“Oh shit,” I huffed, spotting a beautiful, brown-skinned woman whose tightly curled hair was pulled to the side, revealing her elegant neck.

“What is it?” Mav asked.

“It’s her,” I answered, not going into more detail. She seemed to glide across the street toward me, elegance in every step. She was wearing a dark red, form-fitting skirt and a dark grey blouse that was unbuttoned at the top. However, it was the heels that really had me watching her every move and blocking out Mav’s nosy ass.

“Hello, Dom,” she stated, sitting down across from me without waiting for an invitation.

“Who is it?” Maverick asked. “It can’t be the reporter. She sounds like a woman.”

“It is a woman,” I confirmed.

“Oh shit! Yo, does she look fine as hell? Because she sounds fine as hell.”

“Gotta go, Mav.” I ended the call right as he was asking more questions, my eyes unable to ignore how beautiful she looked. “I must say, you’re breathtaking this morning.”

Smiling, she crossed her legs at the knees. “Thank you, Dom. You’re looking deliciously handsome yourself.”

We sat silent for a few moments, both of us knowing that the next words spoken would change the course of whatever moment was brewing between us.

“So I have to ask,” I told her, “did you know who I was before you kissed me at the bar?”

Samara’s sly grin shouldn’t have been so damn sexy, but it was. “Honest to God, I didn’t know who you were when I approached you initially. But when you looked at me the way you did, I recognized you, but I couldn’t resist.”

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