Page 65 of Between Love and Loathing
“Even so, at night, I take care of you too.”
“You’re not going to do this every night, Dominic,” I pointed out.
“I’m very aware of that, Clara.” He grabbed my waist as I turned out the lights, spun on his heels, and pulled me along with him, not dropping his arm from me for one second. I hated how much I enjoyed the feeling.
And I doubly hated how flattered I was that he went directly to my bike like he knew exactly where I parked it that day. “You should get a lock for your bike.”
“Why? You think the construction workers want it?” I threw out. I knew I was being catty, and I didn’t really care. It was a used one that I’d found at the Goodwill. I highly doubted anyone would want it.
He hoisted it up with one arm as we made our way to the parking garage. “I’m actually more concerned about the well-being of the person stealing it and you seeing them on the street, little fighter.”
The drive back to my apartment was filled with silence. So much silence as he stared at his phone texting away that my mind drifted to Natya again.
Was he texting her? Should I have cared?
Tension bounced back and forth between us so much that I opened a window in hopes to dissipate some of it. Finally, I did the stupid thing and asked the question. “Did Natya reach out to you specifically about us a week ago?” I asked quietly. Would it be rude to ask what she texted? To want to know?
He nodded without elaborating, continuing to text away like he had a million things to handle now. “Want food?” he asked halfway home.
Thinking of eating anything after my stomach had been in knots felt ridiculous, so I shook my head no. “I ate at the bakery.” Which was true. I ate way too much when I worked.
His jaw clenched but he didn’t push any further. It occurred to me why he’d driven me home as we pulled up slowly to my apartment building. Huge-ass construction machines were everywhere. Caution tape was all around. Posted across the lobby door was a No Entry sign.
“What the hell?” I murmured.
Dominic glanced up from his phone and rubbed at the scruff on his face. “Maybe you should call that landlord of yours.”
No shit. I grabbed my phone from my purse and looked up the number. He answered on the first ring. “Clara. So happy you called. I can’t thank you enough for your help with this problem.”
“This problem?”
“Well, your request for that mold removal was, I will say, a bit concerning, as I didn’t have the means to accommodate you. I’m happy Dominic Hardy and his team were able to aid us in getting a team out here so fast and at his expense.”
“I’m sorry. What exactly are you—”
“I believe most everyone has been relocated by the movers he brought in today.”
“I haven’t!” I screeched. “My cats are—”
“I had a team get Sugar and Spice this morning, along with most of your belongings,” Dominic murmured before I could jump out of the car.
I glared at him but continued with my landlord. “So, I’ve been relocated? For how long?”
“Yes, well… most everyone has been moved to Hardy Tower West but Mr. Hardy explained you will be staying with him. Our residents are very appreciative to stay in the new apartment space at the same rental price as in their agreements here. We didn’t realize the health concern, but we are more than happy to take care of the problem.”
“Right. Thank you,” I said like a freaking robot, and then he said goodbye and hung up.
Something in my blood curdled, something in my heart pounded, and something mean, ugly, and angry flew out. “You asshole! Where exactly did you take my kittens?”
“They’ve been delivered to my house,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Was he fucking smirking?
“Without my permission?”
“Well, they had to be moved.” One brow lifted. He wanted a fight, and I was ready to give him one. “You want them to die from mold inhalation?”
“I’m not staying at your fucking house, Dominic Hardy.” Jesus, the mold inhalation couldn’t have been good for anyone. I’d ignored it the first time I’d seen it, and now I felt guilty for doing so, especially because of the kittens. Because of my health. Because of trying so hard to give myself a fighting chance. Even still, what he’d done wasn’t acceptable. “We can barely agree on what we want in a damn bakery, let alone in a home.”
“Your apartment is unlivable. So, you either stay with me or you rent another place.” He waited a second. “Unless for some reason, you can’t do that?” Silence filled the car before he said, “Callihan, take us to my place.”
