Page 29 of Fractured Allegiance
“I always am.”
A smile flickers, but it’s the kind that belongs on a knife.
“Useful doesn’t mean untouchable, Lydia.”
“I don’t need to be untouchable,” I say. “Just more convenient than whoever could replace me.”
He chuckles at that. It’s a real laugh. But it’s not pleasant.
“True. Everything’s got a line on it.” He leans in. “I make notes. Don’t give me a reason to read yours aloud.”
Then he moves past me. Gone like the whole exchange didn’t just happen.
But it did.
And I feel it everywhere.
In my ribs. In my throat. In the base of my spine where the heat started to rise before I could shove it down.
I walk out without saying a word.
By the time I reach the elevator, my hands are shaking.
The elevator ride feels too short.
Thirty-eight floors, and I only get six seconds to compose myself. I grip the brass railing. The walls are smoked glass, reflecting me in fragments: cheekbone, jawline, the tight seam of my mouth.
I keep expecting to see someone else looking back. A shadow. A man. A hand just behind mine.
But the only ghost is me.
The doors open to the lobby’s hush. Dom’s already there. Waiting, as if the universe choreographed it to make sure I never get a moment alone.
He doesn't smile. Just starts walking, like I'm supposed to follow.
I do.
We pass the concierge, who gives me the same look they always do — the one people give women like me when they know they’re not allowed to ask what we do, but they guess anyway.
Dom’s stride is long. Confident. And too fast for someone who’s pretending this is casual.
I hate when he does this.
He stops just before the parking garage.
“You’re distracted,” he says.
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m exhausted.”
“No. This is different.” He tilts his head. “It’s the way you’re walking. Like something’s inside your skin.”
“It’s just you, Dom. You tend to have that effect.”
A flicker of amusement. Then gone.
“You weren’t focused in there.”
I hold his stare. “Wasn’t supposed to be. I was just a decoration.”
