Page 16 of Scorned Beauty
“Okay…” He raked his teeth over his bottom lip. “How are you going to bring in the groceries and the cat to visit Harriet without making two trips?”
He had a point.
“Don’t let pride get in the way of common sense,” Dom added. “I don’t want any awkward introductions to Harriet about my presence. You can say I was simply a decent human being who found you struggling with the shopping bags and the cat carrier.”
And with that zinger, Dom left me in the SUV, sitting in my embarrassment. Just a little. I was sure his ego could handle a bit of jostling.This is self-preservation, I told myself, although his threat of breaking down my walls rang little alarm bells in my head. He was getting presumptuous that I would give him my time past this weekend.
I grabbed Ginger’s crate while Dom carried the groceries. I’d spent less than twenty-four hours with this man, but we were behaving like a domesticated couple. Unlike his suit yesterday, Dom had on a fatigue-colored henley tucked in dark blue jeans. He was wearing scuffed leather boots. He left his leather jacket in the SUV. His eyes were shaded by aviators. Despite his attire, he was still a far cry from pedestrian traffic on an early weekend morning. No, his entire vibe suited the night prowls.
“Not how you expected to spend your Saturday morning.” I leaned in closer so only he could hear. “No criminal empire to run?”
His mouth twitched in amusement. “I’m taking a break. The empire is in good hands.”
“I hear you have an office at the De Lucci Transnational offices. Do you go in?”
“I attend board meetings just like any executive.” He walked in relaxed, confident strides I tried to match by walking twice as fast.
“Executive, huh? So what’s your title?”
“Director of Operations.”
“Really?” I laughed lightly. “That has a broad meaning.”
“In short, I get shit done.”
We made the trek to the Delphine building with small talk, coming to a mutual truce of sorts, and stayed away from touchier subjects. As I’d discovered, Dom had an uncanny way of turning innocent conversation into pure sexual innuendo that rattled me. I chanced a glance at him. I wished I had on shades to disguise my eyes because I couldn’t see his and discern his mood. Poker face must be second nature to him with his position as don of the De Lucci crime family, and I had trouble reconciling that man with the man beside me, even from that man last night.
“How’s your side?”
“It’s fine,” he said shortly. “I hardly feel it.”
“I’ll look at it later.”
“I have plans for you later,” he promised.
When we arrived at Harriet’s room, I pushed open the door. “Look who’s here?”
I meant Ginger. My octogenarian former neighbor was on the sofa reading, but when she looked up, her eyes bypassed the cat carrier and zeroed in on Dom.
“Where do you want these?” he asked.
“You can drop them just inside the door—thanks for your help.”
I lowered the cat carrier so abruptly that Ginger complained. But I had to get Dom out of the room before Harriet asked him questions.
Dom had an amused tilt to his mouth as I hurriedly shoved him out. “Thanks again.” And slammed the door behind him.
Harriet, though, didn’t get to the age of eighty without wading through bullshit. She got up slowly and hobbled over. She usually had a cane for longer distances, but shuffled around just fine in smaller spaces. The past year, she’d moved to the Delphine Assisted Living Home because her mobility had deteriorated. That, coupled with her emphysema from a lifetime of smoking, prevented her from independent living. “Was he your emergency appointment yesterday?”
“Don’t be silly.” I let Ginger out and she immediately wrapped around Harriet and started purring. “Oh, she missed you.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“He saw me juggling the bags and Ginger’s crate and offered to help.”
“You’re full of nonsense, missy.”
My phone chimed. I ignored it.
