Page 120 of By A Thread
“You guys ever think about telling Dominic that?” I asked.
“What? That we think he’s crazy hot? Like ‘the devil created him, he’s that hot’ hot?” Nina frowned.
“Uh. No. The part about you’re glad he’s here and you like working with him.”
“You mean actually speak to that fine man filet? Nope. No thanks. I once ran into him coming out of a conference room, and rather than apologize, I sprinted into the bathroom. The men’s bathroom,” Missie confessed. “He’s so beautiful and broody, and I just want to be the one to tame him and show him love.” She sang the last few words Broadway-style.
“But he’s so ungettable. I think that’s what I like about him best. If I could ‘get’ him, I’d be beautiful and special and obviously really good in bed because he’s not the type of man to settle for anything less.” Ruth sighed.
I covered my laugh with another sip of champagne. Dominic would literally die if he could hear this conversation.
“What’s it like being his assistant?” Gola demanded.
“Yes, spill. All the details.”
Why was everyone pumping me for information on the man tonight?“Uh. I don’t know. He likes tea. He’s crotchety on the outside, but he’s mostly an okay human being.”
They waited raptly for more Dominic tidbits.
“He listens when I talk. He’s careful, conscientious. He cares about what he’s doing. He is definitely not his father. Overall, he’s a good boss.”
“You guys fight a lot. Not gonna lie, it’s totally hot. I want to be you when I grow up,” Missie trilled.
“We just rub each other the wrong way. And I’m only with him until his admin Greta comes back. Here’s hoping I end up with a husband who surprises me with a two-month European tour next, right?”
They exchanged glances.
“What?”
“Her husband didn’t surprise her,” Nina said. “Dominic sent her away.”
41
Ally
Iwas blinking so rapidly, my eyelashes felt like hummingbird wings.
“Dominic sent Greta away?” I asked Nina, going for nonchalance.
“Would any of you lovely ladies like to try—”
“Not now, Carl!” I yelled at the approaching server with his tray of butterflied shrimp. The man ran off with his appetizers.
“Oh, yeah,” Nina said, waving a hand. “I heard it from a friend of a friend of a friend. Dominic personally arranged the vacation time with HR. He called Jasmine—the grumpy one with zero camera skills—at home at two a.m. on a Friday night and said he needed the deal done that weekend.”
“Technically she wasn’t at home. She was out clubbing with a super cute jazz singer she met on a pub crawl,” Missie chimed in.
“Wait a second. Grumpy HR Jasmine, the mid-sneeze immortalizer, goes clubbing with jazz singers?” I asked. “You know what? Never mind. Please continue.”
“Anyway, he said it was a thank you for putting up with his bullshit for so long. He paid out of pocket for her time offandher travel. Can you imagine?” Nina gushed.
“Two a.m. on a Friday?” I asked.
“What would he have been doing at that time of night that he decided he needed to send his assistant away for two months?” Gola asked.
“Maybe she witnessed him committing a murder,” I said nervously.
I knew exactly what he’d been doing that Friday night. It would have been about ten minutes after I stormed out of his townhouse in my fancy stripper clothes.
