Page 6 of High-Rise Heat

Our eyes catch, and there’s so much compassion and devotion sparking in Dom’s gaze I feel overwhelmed by his intensity. I bite my cheek to remind myself that this is mybossasking and not the man I’ve imagined a hundred other ways, asking me to trust him with my heart. This is the man I’m supposed to trust with mycareer. And of course, that’s how he intended his question, even if it unearths everything else I’m uncertain of.

I give him a non-committal nod. “Of course. You’ve always known what you were doing.”

That’s true. Dom is a brilliant lawyer and a smart businessman. I’m the one who’s muddying the waters with personal emotion and losing sight of what’s truly important—which is to stay sharp, focused, and get the job done.

“Then trust me,” Dom says confidently, reaching up to take both of my shoulders in his hands. He squeezes them like a coach encouraging his star player to keep her head in the game, and I nod again, tossing him my best smile. It seems to convince him.

But when he walks back to the kitchen I find myself looking down the side of the building to the ground below. Down there, nothing is in focus and everything is a blurry mass of color and shape. There’s no clear path except to fall. And it scares me that so little—a friend, a single person, a pebble thrown into a giant pool—could cause such a ripple.

4

Isaac

The sun is setting as I pour the whiskey into a tumbler glass and slide it across the kitchen island to Dominick. I’ve spent the day on the couch sending emails to my suppliers and making sure everything’s ready for our launch next month. Dom thought I was crazy when he and Ilsa got back from their negotiations and he caught me typing away at the keyboard like a crazy man, which is when I explained to him that I quit my job at the firm.

“You left your job to do what? Build a software company?” Dom asked.

“Hey, software’s the wave of the future,” I defended, to which he frowned at me. I’m not sure his pale face could get any whiter with his Irish blood and all, but I swear it did. It was the kind of frown that asked how I could throw away a six-figure salary and years of schooling on a reckless business venture. Which I suppose is what makes Dom the man he is. I’m the entrepreneurial maverick, while he’s the one up here at top of his game, making multi-million dollar mergers with Hong Kong’s elite, but still playing it safe. “You always said I’d never hack it in a business suit,” I say. “You can’t deny who you are.”

Dom unfolds his arms quickly to catch the drink I’ve slid across the counter before it topples over the edge.

“Whoa, okay!” he says quickly. “Someone’s ready to party. Maybe we should wait till my deal is signed and you haven’t flushed your entire life savings down the drain.”

“It wouldn’t be any fun without a bit of risk,” I say, raising my glass. “And if I’m going down with the ship, I’m going out in style.” I take a reckless drink, savoring the smoky flavor.

Dom swirls his whiskey carefully. He’s watching me cautiously, his expression a mix of concern and condemnation. “I’ll be fine,” I say to ease the tension that creases his face. “You know I’ll be happier hotel-hopping and working from my laptop and pissing off the side of the Swiss Alps.”

“Yes, I believe that’s what normal people call a vacation.”

I smile at him and shake my head. “Yeah well, I’m not normal people. And—” I nod out the window to where Ilsa lounges in a deck chair next to the pool. “I don’t have a hot brunette to keep me addicted to my life at the office.”

Dom follows my gaze out the window to Ilsa, who’s wearing a bikini under a gauzy wrap that puts her legs on display. I won’t deny it, she’s magnificent. Especially with her hair down and her body soft and relaxed and no longer stuffed into her business clothes. The sun sets behind her, lighting up the space between her bent knees and setting the whole pool on fire as it reflects the sky’s orange blaze.

“It’s not like that,” Dom says tersely, and I’m pretty sure that’s a complete lie. I mean, look at her. Hehasto have a thing for her. What hot-blooded man wouldn’t? In fact, I’m not sure how they aren’t already together. After all, Dom told me they go on business trips like this all the time. Only … somethingisoff between them. I could feel it earlier when they returned from their business meeting. Ilsa dismissively stalked into her room, changed out of her business clothes, and then came out here inthat outfit. She’s either trying to get a rise out of Dom, or a rise out of me, and from the embarrassed way she bit her lip this morning with her robe half-open, I’m already having dirty fantasies.

I sip the whiskey, eyeing my friend. “This is the good stuff,” I say, encouraging him to drink. “Straight from your neck of the woods. Pound-your-blood Irish stock.”

“Of course, yes.” Dom eyes his glass, before tentatively raising it to his lips, still distracted by Ilsa and the sunset. There’s definitely something unspoken between them. Maybe they fucked in the past and it’s all business now. Or maybe he wants to fuck her, but Dom being Dom, he’ll never make a move and jeopardize his job or position.

“You want a glass?” I call out to Ilsa, who looks up and catches us watching her. She pulls off her sunglasses and shakes her head causing all of those long locks to spread out over her exposed shoulders. It takes a second to realize she’s shifted her gaze to Dom, squinting at him as if it’s weird to see him drinking. Is that concern? Confusion? Affection? “You’re missing out,” I say, tossing her a smile that makes her rolls her eyes.

When I turn back to Dom, he’s staring at me, a tiny flush under his scrutinizing gaze. I know that look. I’ve seen it a hundred times in college when the two of us would go out to a bar. It’s jealousy. He used to ask how I could get any girl to come home with me, but he never liked the answer. It’s not a big secret. “It’s business,” I’d tell him. “You decide what you want and you go out and get it. Simple. You don’t wait for permission. You make it happen.”

Domknowshow to do that—in business—but he’s never had the same determination with women. For example, take Dom’s shirt. The cuffs are rolled perfectly. Intentional. Not a button out of place. His attention to detail is impeccable, and yet that’s also what holds him back. He never lets anything get messy. Even now as we have a drink and relax, his guard is up. And I’d bet my left-nut he’s in love with Ilsa, but he’s never taken the initiative. Never told her or shown the slightest hint of intention. Not to mention the way I’ve heard him talk about her—smart, friendly, someone he can confide in. The question is: doesshewant him back? And would Domevermake a move if she did? The two of them have been partners for two years, so if it hasn’t already happened … maybe it won’t.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Ilsa since they left for their meeting this morning. My pants feel tight at the thought of taking what I want and playing out the fantasy. What would’ve happened if I untied Ilsa’s robe this morning and exposed her to me? Slipped the terrycloth off her shoulders and tasted the scent that warmed her skin? But Dom’s my friend, and I can’t do that. It’s shitty back-hand business. You don’t fuck over the people that are loyal to you, even if your cock has a different agenda.

Ilsa’s gaze lingers on us again, smiling sweetly, and it’s hard to tell if she’s smiling at me or Dom, but there’s something in her expression that’s curious.

“She’s got a thing for you,” I say to Dom, and he coughs viciously, completely thrown off guard.

“What? She—” he coughs again, raising his wrist up to his mouth to clear his throat, but the flush of pink that runs up his Paddy-white neck hides nothing. “She doesn’t. She’s my colleague. We work together,” he defends, throwing back half his whiskey and shaking his head as if the two of them together is the last thing that would ever cross his mind. He straightens his shirt and I see the pansy-ass friend from college who’s afraid to take what he wants. “I mean, Iwisha girl like Ilsa had a thing for me,” Dom says, brushing it off. “But we work together. Even if we didn’t, a girl like that doesn’t go for a guy like me.”

“What are you talking about?” I shake my head at him. “Why not?”

“Likeyouneed to ask that, asshole.” I smile, happy to see his wits are back, and that he’s finally drinking his whiskey. But I know he’s talking about all the nights in college when he went home alone and I didn’t.

“Those are flings. One night stands,” I explain. “A girl like Ilsa … I mean, she’s your confidant. From the way you talk about her, it sounds like you two talk about everything: deep conversations, business strategy, no secrets. I don’t do that.” I shake my head. “I know you think I have some magical charm that makes women’s panties evaporate, but trust me, a woman like Ilsa … she wants something else.” I fill my mouth with another hot gulp of whiskey and swallow it down. “Hell, she’s barely said two words to me since I got here.”

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