Page 12 of A Taste For Trouble
“Noted,” he replied, giving me a quick shove towards the front seat.
I slid into the passenger seat, and Dom gave me a quick glance before he started the car. He put his hand on the back of my seat as he reversed out of my tiny driveway, and the feel of his face so close to mine set my heart pounding. I forced myself to look straight ahead with a blank face, even though every fibre in my body urged me to turn my head just a little bit and nip at his tight jawline. I mean, it was right there.
As if he could sense my thoughts, Dom’s face dipped a little, and I raised my eyes to find him staring down at me. His Adam’s apple jerked as he swallowed hard. My breath came in short,heated puffs, and I tilted my chin a little. Just then, Trevor let out a little yelp.
“Stop,” he squawked, and Dom hit the brakes. “You almost reversed us into the ditch, boss. Eyes on the road!”
With a muttered curse and a screech of the tires, Dom turned the car onto the main road, and we set off. I snuck a quick look at him, but he kept his eyes studiously on the road. My face flamed as I wondered what just happened. I mean, I could totally see myself getting distracted when I drove, which was why I never drove if I could help it. But Dom? The most driven and focused man I knew? I couldn’t believe he’d ever get so distracted, and by me, no less!
To get my mind off that track, I fiddled with the knob on his car stereo until I found a station that played country music. Forever and Ever, Amen came on, and I closed my eyes to lose myself in the honey that was Randy Travis’s voice, only to be met with silence. My eyes shot open in surprise, and Dom scowled at me.
“We don’t play mushy songs in this car. Ever,” he stated sternly.
“Well, what kind of songsdoyou play?” I asked, bewildered.
“None,” he replied. “I listen to podcasts when I drive.”
“Who hurt you?” I wondered, wide-eyed, as I settled back into my seat.
CHAPTER 6
DOMINIC
Who hurt you?
Rose’s question echoed in my ears on the drive home. And it drove home my conviction that the two of us couldn’t have been more different if we tried.
Rose moved like there was a light, frothy background track playing in her head at all times. Meanwhile, the very idea of music made my skin break out in hives. Music brought joy and solace to her. To me, it brought back memories I had spent a lifetime trying to suppress. All my staff knew not to play any music around me. Not in my house. Not in my office.
I pulled up outside the five-storey, brick building that was perched on the highest point on Main Street - Carlisle House. It wasn’t just a building. It was one of Maplewood’s most recognisable landmarks. And even more than that, it was my family’s fortress. I was ten when my father died in an infamous car crash, along with his latest mistress, and my mother’s first act of defiance when she took his seat on the board of directorsof Carlisle Industries was to tear down the elegant brownstone mansion that stood here originally as a reminder of my father’s immense success and build this beautiful building that bore no sign of his presence except the discreet plaque on the side that saidCarlisle. His last name was all that was left of him.
The only reason she even kept his last name was because it gave her the clout to fight off his useless brothers, who kept trying to steal the company from under her. The day I took over her position as the CEO of Carlisle Industries, she changed her name back to Anthea Rook, and I didn’t blame her. Heck, I’d thrown her a party at The Orangery that night to celebrate her freedom from the burden of being a Carlisle. Too bad I couldn’t throw off that burden as easily.
I had to run the businessandmy large, extended family on Dad’s side because none of them were capable of running a mile, let alone their own lives. And my mother had invested far too much in the business for me to allow her blood and tears to be wasted.
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” asked Trevor, as he carried Rose’s bag out of the car. She grabbed the feline Antichrist’s carrier and followed him into the building while I threw the keys at a valet who scurried around the car to slide into the driver’s seat.
“I’ve been to Anthea’s apartment many times, of course, since she and my mother were best friends. I’ve also been to Grammy Cora’s apartment a few times,” replied Rose, with a sidelong glance at me. “Not to Dominic’s, though.”
She still called my grandmother Grammy Cora. Gran terrified everybody in Maplewood with her stern face and outspoken ways. Everybody, except Rose, that is, who saw the brave, heartbroken woman hiding under that grouchy exterior, who had buried her husband and oldest son. And Gran adored Rose as much as my Mom did.
I was so lucky Mom was in Florida right now, because I didn’t need the three women forming an unholy coalition right under my nose.
“Brace yourself, Rosie,” murmured Trevor. “The boss’s apartment is nothing like the other two apartments. It’s like walking into Siberia. Not through there. Bossman has a separate entrance into the building because he doesn’t like his dates to bump into his grandmother the next morning.”
“Babe, I don’t think his supermodels can survive a round with Grammy Cora. She’ll eat them alive,” said Rose, with a venomous smile at me, as she followed Trevor into the marble-floored lobby of my wing.
She wasn’t wrong.
My grandmother had an apartment on the first floor, while the duplex above hers was my mother’s. The next two floors held the gym, sauna, pool, and solarium, and the floor above that had two guest apartments. Meanwhile, the penthouse was all mine, accessed through a separate entrance and a private elevator that led into my apartment. I liked my privacy. And I liked not having to listen to my grandmother ranting about the brainless twits I liked to date. Her words, not mine.
Rose looked taken aback as the doors to my private elevator opened.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as she hesitated a little.
“It’s nothing like the other elevator,” she said as she stepped in.
The elevator on the other side of the building that led to the other apartments was vintage, with polished brass doors and a plush love seat on one side for my grandmother. This one was Spartan in comparison - steel, grey, and cold. Just as I liked it.