Page 22 of For the Love of the Gods

“Don’t you have a cook of your own?”

“No.”

Dominic scoffed, stood and rounded the counter towards me. “Whatever. But I’m not letting you fuck with her job.”

“She gets to keep her job and I get to make use of this kitchen. It’s a win-win.” My tone was sharpening. I was trying to cut off this line of questioning.

“Did you threaten to fire her?” Dominic was angry, visibly. I was angry, too, but I tried not to show it. I tried to come across cold. Anger showed passion and passion showed that you cared.

“I did not threaten her.” It was an evasion, answer his question but offer no other information. It also stayed far enough away from the truth that I didn’t feel on the verge of a heart attack.

The doubtful raise of Dominic’s eyebrow didn’t help the tightness in my chest.

“Any more complaints while we’re at it?”

“Yes. Stay away from Raiden.”

I let out a bitter laugh.

“No. He’s a friend.” And I refused to lose any more of them.

Dominic looked resentful. “Why the hell are you friends with him?”

“Belen is Greek.” Something about his expression made me think he was surprised by that little bit of information about Raiden’s husband’s history. “I was friends with him before they got married. Became friends with Raiden afterwards.”

It was true. Belen was Thea’s brother and had grown up beside me. Another friend who stuck around after everything. He and Raiden were always kind to me. Too kind.

“And does he know who you are?”

“You mean does he know what I’ve done?” It always came back to this, didn’t it? The skeleton in a closet that had no doors. “Yes, everyone does.”

“So then I repeat, why is he friends with you?”

Dominic phrased that question intentionally. He trusted Raiden, and Raiden was surrounding himself with a murderer. That reflected badly on him.

I deflected the question, not wanting to reduce the role Belen and Raiden had in my life and certainly not wanting to explain that he didn’t think of me as a murderer. Even if he should. “Do you really have a problem with me having friends? A life? Or is it that you just don’t think I should have any fun?”

Dominic’s eyes blazed with fury. I’d gotten him there.

“You don’t get to kill Pine and then go on living your life like it never happened. You don’t get to be friends withgoodpeople. You took advantage of someone’s kindness once, who is to say you won’t do it again?”

I felt like I’d just been slapped. Because it was everything I was scared of. I was scared that I didn’t deserve kindness or friends. Scared that I’d repeat the same mistakes I’d made, the same ones that killed my brother.

I swallowed, trying to dispel the tightness in my throat. It was morning and I hadn’t fully put up my defenses. Dominic’s words got to me, and it was showing. My eyes were growing misty with each second I had to stare into his furious face.

“Well, I love it when breakfast gets interesting. But I must go,” I choked out, moving toward the door.

Dominic’s thick eyebrows lifted in the center, catching the strain in my tone like an expert fisherman. He moved toward me quickly, wrapping a hand around my upper arm, which took up an indecent amount of space. “Rose—”

“Let me go,” I cut him off, shaking off his hand and putting space between us. “Now.”

“No,” He took a step towards me. I took a step back. “Not until you tell me why that hurt you. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“Hurt me?” I asked, forcing incredulity. “You give yourself too much credit.”

Dominic narrowed his eyes at me, seeing too much. “You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not. I killed your best friend. My own brother. That’s the truth. Now get out of my way.” I pushed past him, barely catching the shocked fury forming on his face. It was bold, to mention what I’d done that casually.

---