Page 113 of Between Love and Loathing
“I don’t want Keelani fucking near it—”
“Sign that deal, Dex.” My hand all but crushed the phone as he said it. Had he been in front of me, I would have punched him. “And quit being a baby. She got over you. You need to get over her.”
“How do you know she’s over me?” Now he sounded devastated.
“Jesus Christ. I’m not telling you her business—”
“Is she in Vegas now?” he demanded. When I didn’t answer fast enough, he growled, “I’ll check the cameras myself,” and hung up.
My brother had lost his mind to the girl he loved. I couldn’t blame him. I was losing mine too to Clara. I texted the family that Natya was backing off, but we needed to push out statements about the resort and that no media outlet was allowed to talk about Clara. I wanted everyone to make sure their PR teams knew that.
She didn’t need the stress. I wouldn’t allow for it.
Then I saw her with Valentino.
In his restaurant.
I’d just waved a red flag for my brother about the girl he loved, and now I was seeing the same thing with the one I loved.
She was smiling. She seemed happy. I should have been the one making her smile.
I glanced at my watch. It was Friday. That was a full workweek. Still counted as lasting a week in my book. My future wife was sitting with another man in his restaurant, though, and that man was going to pay a hefty price, no matter that he smiled at me as I approached them.
“Dom, I didn’t know you were still here tonight—”
“I’m where my future wife is, Valentino.” I cut him off as I stood at their table. I knew my anger was palpable, knew the stare that most shrank away from was drilling into Valentino.
He chuckled nervously and motioned for a server to bring a chair. “Please join us.”
“Do you think I need to be invited to a dinner within my own resort?” I asked him softly and then I tsked. “Get out of my chair.”
His eyes widened along with Clara’s but here was the lesson they needed to learn. When they’d met me, I’d been an asshole about the design of my resort. I was ruthless when it came to that. It benefited them all wildly. Now, they needed to learn I was also an asshole when it came to what was mine—and anything involving Clara was exactly that.
Even so, Valentino learned fast. He stood from the chair and offered me the seat. “I didn’t mean any— Why is everyone leaving?” His voice was high.
“Your restaurant is closing for the night. It may be closing for the future too,” I pointedly said. “Don’t ever give my girlfriend a gift again, Valentino. And if you invite her to a meal without me, know that I’ll ruin you. You may feed all these people, and you may be a world-renowned chef, but I feed you. Have you heard the saying? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. ”
“Yes… I—”
“There are millions of good chefs in the world, do you know that? Millions who could take your place. But there’s only one of her. You understand?” I lifted a brow, and the man nodded, his own brow sweating now. “Leave.”
He didn’t even say goodbye, just rushed out.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Dominic,” I heard from across the table as I waved over the last waiter still there and told him to get me two fingers of whiskey. “That was the most ridiculous territorial display of—”
“Why are you still fucking wearing that necklace?” I cut her off. My eyes were on it. I couldn’t look away from it, couldn’t unsee her with another man she’d viewed as a potential beau when I knew all I wanted was for her to be with me.
Her small fingers floated over it. “I honestly forgot with everything going on and haven’t thought about changing it—”
My hand snapped out to twist the gold chain around my fingers. Then, I yanked it fast. The motion was swift enough that the necklace gave way and broke so I could fist it. She gasped and grabbed at her neck, but it was too late. I dropped it into the champagne Valentino had been drinking. And when the waiter stopped by, I waved at the glass. “Pour it down the drain where it belongs.” I held her eyes as the waiter scurried away with the jewelry in the glass. “It should only ever be my necklace or fingers touching your neck. Nothing else.”
I saw how her breath hitched, how her pale skin blushed, and how her nipples hardened under that thin dress fabric. “Dominic, you know you haven’t given me a week—”
“A work week,” I corrected her.
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not a whole week.”
“Semantics.” I glanced down at the food.
