Page 33 of Scorned Beauty
“Hey, I thought I was getting all the leftovers,” Nico grumbled.
Ivy laughed. “They might think I don’t feed you enough. Although, come to think of it, you do most of the cooking.”
“No need, Aunt Ava.” I tapped my wineglass. “Just need to drink some more.” Maybe an entire bottle.
“So it seems Luca and Lucy are spending Christmas with us,” Pop piped in, distracting everyone from my uncharacteristic silence. Excited chatter exploded about their impending visit. We called Lucy Luca Junior. I didn’t know how that started, whether it was because their names appeared similar on paper or it was my sister’s rebellious attitude, which Luca seemed to approve of.
After getting a reprieve with the help of Pop’s diversion, I forced myself to get a grip and eat a decent serving of the roast lamb and cheesy Brussels sprouts I’d normally wolf down and have second servings of.
Dinner lasted an agonizing two hours before I could leave with a valid excuse that I was needed at Cardo—a De Lucci-owned dance club. Our special rooms were fully booked months in advance, more so for the holidays. I jumped into my Ferrari, debating now whether I should switch vehicles, knowing I’d be parking on the street, but the desire to get to New Jersey as soon as possible won out.
When I arrived in Hoboken, it took me another half an hour to find parking. I was gritting my molars so hard because Sloane’s location showed she was on her way back to the apartment. When I finally squeezed my sports car between a Dodge sedan and a pickup, I hustled over to her street and watched her dot move, thankful for the traffic slowing her down.
It was a chilly night, but I was steaming in my suit and overcoat. I loosened my tie and blended into the shadows in front of Sloane’s building. I glared at my phone, specifically at her location dot approaching.
A white sedan pulled up beside the space by the fire hydrant in my line of sight. I could tell there were two people in the back of the vehicle.
The fucker stepped out to the traffic side first. He tried to round the vehicle quickly to help Sloane out, but she didn’t wait for him. When he put his hand on the small of her back, the muscle beneath my left eye started twitching.
I was done watching.
I emerged from my stakeout position and crossed the street, my eyes still glaring at the hand on her back. They must have seen my rapidly advancing figure reflected on the glass door because they stopped and turned my way.
My eyes narrowed at the coat over Sloane’s shoulders. It was a man’s coat. His coat.
“Dom, what are you doing here?”
“I texted you, baby,” I replied.
The fucker had the sense to drop his hand from Sloane’s back, but was an idiot not to move aside. “I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
“I don’t,” Sloane replied instantly. “Dom is the cousin of one of my best friends.”
I raised my brow at Sloane. I derived fleeting amusement from the awkward way she tried to explain who I was to her. She could hardly say friends with benefits now, could she? Although at this moment, I was more frenemy with benefits. I was definitely more than a hookup or a fuck buddy.
But Phil’s next words sent my already simmering temper skyrocketing. “Is he harassing you?”
I erased the space between us and snarled into his face. “Fucker?—”
Sloane grabbed my arm to yank me away, practically shoving me inside the building as she muttered breathlessly, “I’m sorry, Phil. No, he’s not harassing me, but I got this.”
“You sure?” He followed us inside.
“Yes.”
He was lucky my need to pound into Sloane was stronger than my need to pound him into the wall. Searing possessiveness entangled itself inside me, locking muscle and sinew. Possessiveness wanted to explode out of my skin. And with the way Sloane was clinging to my arm, she was sensing it too.
I frequently diffused tense situations, not caused them. I watched over people who I considered family. Sloane was an outlier, an undefined entity, because the urge to say “fuck it” was overwhelming.
Instead of giving in to planting my fist in Phil’s face, I whipped his coat off her shoulders and shoved it at him. “I believe this is yours.”
He shot me a glare, and I returned it with a smug smile. I even felt a little sorry for the prick. He must have paid for the ride and the drinks, but I was the one going up to Sloane’s apartment. I fell back behind her, just because I didn’t like how short her skirt was, and Phil was still at the bottom of the staircase.
I didn’t want him seeing up her skirt.
She dressed up for him?
Wait. Did he already put his hand up her skirt?
