Page 62 of Sweetest Sin
I put him down, and he swims back to his pizza float, scrambling to get back onto it. I wait until I know he’s safely on it before I turn back to Dominick.
“Don’t you dare judge me, and you should think twice before you make threats.” I glance at Damien to make sure he’s busy playing with the pool rings and isn’t listening before I continue. “My son is my entire life, and I would do anything to keep him safe.”
“Including keeping him from me,” Dominick adds.
“Including keeping him from you,” I agree.
We stare at each other for several seconds in a silent standoff, and while I appreciate that he jumped without thought to saveour son’s life, I refuse to give in. He might not agree with me keeping Damien from him, but I will never apologize for making the decision I felt was best for my little boy.
After what feels like forever, Dominick sighs. “There’s so much I don’t know about him,” he murmurs, glancing at Damien, “including the fact that he can swim. I want to be so pissed at you.” He clenches his jaw. “You kept him from me for years, and had you not been on the flight to Russia, you never would’ve told me about him.”
It’s not a question. We both know I wouldn’t have. The moment I heard him kill a man, I made my decision. Even during the late nights, like when I was exhausted and taking care of Damien on my own because my mom was too sick and needed her sleep, or times when he came home and asked why his friend had a daddy and he didn’t, I never considered telling him because the thought of my son growing up the way I had—in a home with a violent man—made me sick to my stomach.
“Have you found anything out about the guy who was responsible for trying to have Damien kidnapped?” I ask, changing the subject.
“We’re working on it,” he says, stepping out of the water.
I try like hell not to—as he put it—eye-fuck him, but, holy shit, the man is sexy, and with his clothes sticking to him, I can make out the bulge in his pants.
My thoughts go back to our night together, and from experience, I know that bulge is real and not at all hard.
Sigh.
Why does he have to be dangerous? He’s good-looking and great in bed, and he makes a decent living. I know no one is perfect, but couldn’t his fault be a hairy mole or something? Did it have to be that he’s a violent criminal who is eyeballs deep in the underworld?
“Hey, mister,” Damien calls out, making me realize they haven’t been properly introduced.
After Dominick told him about the pool stuff, we headed out to the pool house to change and have been out here ever since.
Dominick flinches at the title, and a small part of me feels bad because I know if Damien called me anything other than Mommy, it would break my heart.
“Yeah, buddy?” Dominick says.
“Wanna play with me? My mommy is kinda boring.”
“Hey! I am not boring.” I scoff.
“Yeah-huh,” Damien argues. “You got upset when I splashed your eyes, and you’re not strong enough to throw me far, like Mr. Williams does.”
“Who the fuck is Mr. Williams?” Dominick barks, making Damien giggle. “And why is he touching our son?”
“You say a lot of naughty words, mister,” Damien tells him, not picking up on the second part of what Dominick said.
“Damien, his name is Dominick,” I tell him. “And don’t even get any ideas. You’re not saying them.”
Damien sighs. “It’s so unfair. Everyone gets to say all the words but me.”
I glance over at Dominick, and despite his clenched jaw, a small trace of a smile peeks out.
“Mr. Williams is Frankie’s dad,” I explain to Dominick.
“Yeah, my bestest friend in preschool,” Damien adds. “He’s got a pool and a backyard for a Giving Tree.” He looks around the property with several acres of green grass, and it’s like a light bulb clicks on right above his head. “Hey, mister … uh …”
“Dominick,” I repeat.
“Dom-i-nick,” Damien says, sounding out the syllables. “Can we get a Giving Tree?”
Before I can tell Damien it’s not happening, Dominick says, “Sure,” without question, and Damien erupts in happiness.
