“And what, Dom? What will happen, exactly? There will be questions. We are nothing more than an affair and it’s becoming more complicated.”
I wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her, but I settled for lightly clasping them instead. I was glad she didn’t flinch, so whatever fucker strangled her didn’t leave lasting trauma, although it might be too soon to tell.
“We’ve been good together. It’s been working.”
“Has it? Or has it been working more for you? You bring women of your social standing and class to all?—”
“Don’t you dare accuse me?—”
“I’m not. It’s not working anymore because it’s hurting.”
An unexpected nausea pushed up from my gut. It must have shown on my face, because Sloane’s expression cracked with a misery that made me want to roar.
“I can’t see a beautiful woman on your arm one night and then have you fuck me the next evening. This last time you came straight to me and her perfume was all over you.”
“You made me shower it off, so it wasn’t like I fucked you with her smell all over me.” She flinched at my words, but I didn’t regret them. The reason Sloane and I worked was because we were honest about what this was and now she was changing the rules? I normally would have had more decency than to go straight to her from the arms of another woman even if it was just for show, but our affair, plus my responsibilities as the head of the De Lucci crime family, were weighing down on me. Sloane was my escape.
I wasn’t willing to give her up yet, and I certainly wasn’t down with her being in danger from the Russians.
“I’ll move you to Venezia Tower. It’s in Manhattan and I could get to see you more often and not have to make the hour and a half trip it takes to get to you.”
Fury replaced the misery in her eyes.
“You asshole,” she whispered.
“What? I’m the asshole?” I pointed at her neck. “This is what your desire for independence cost you.”
“I happen to go to school in New Jersey.”
“And look what happened!” I roared. “I have enough people I have to worry about and I don’t have room to worry about you too!”
That inexcusable statement escaped my mouth before I had the control to stop it.
Her throat snagged, and tears filled her eyes. “Then don’t.”
But what did I do? I doubled down. “We agreed this needs to be drama-free and?—”
The electric kettle shrieked.
“And I’m causing drama?” she shot back, ignoring the annoying screech of the appliance.
I walked over to shut it off and went to the cabinet to get her a cup. “What tea do you want?”
“Stop it, Dom! Stop trying to take care of me. I don’t need your help. Get out.”
I slammed the cabinet and faced her. “Are you ending it with me?”
“You said if one of us wanted to end this affair, there would be no questions asked.”
“You think I’m going to abandon you after you got attacked?”
“There’s nothing you could have done. It’s not what you think, so don’t go stirring up shit with Grigori because then it’ll only make it worse.”
“Just tell me what happened!”
She crossed her arms. “No. I don’t owe you that. This ends now, Dom.”
“This isn’t over.” I slipped out my phone and texted her the address of the Venezia Tower. “When you come to your senses, I want you to give the apartment a look.”