Page 14 of Best In Class (Savannah's Best #7)

Luna

“ H e’s messing with me,” I complain to Lia and Nova as I review the mechanical drawings.

“How?” Nova demands.

I wave a hand in front of my screen.

Nova arches a brow, amusement flickering in her gaze. “Oh, you mean by solving your airflow issue? The one you spent hours banging your head against?”

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t take credit. Just fixed the issue and walked away like it was no big deal.

I’m annoyed and grateful in equal measure.

Mostly annoyed.

Yes, that’s it. Mostly annoyed. And touched.

Sigh!

Lia shoots me a delighted grin. “I’m not an architect…so…is this good work that Dom did?”

I huff out a short breath. “Yes,” I concede. “It’s clean. Elegant. Perfect . ”

“ Perfect ?” Lia bites her lower lip as if to stop herself from laughing. “Those are some big words of praise coming from you.”

“He’s a damn good architect,” I concede.

My phone beeps. It’s a message from the man of the hour.

Dom: I’m in the parking lot .

“I have to go.” I pack up my computer.

Nova gives me a wickedly pleased look as she leans back in her chair. “Oh, please, don’t make it sound like you don’t want to go. You do.”

I give her a dry look, not bothering to hide my irritation. “It’s just a day trip,” I say as I slide my backpack over my shoulder.

Dom and I are headed to Atlanta to tour Holy Park, a new sustainability-focused boutique hospital that’s become something of a gold standard.

It’s the blueprint we want to emulate in scale, though maybe not in soul.

The hospital was designed by a Chicago-based firm known for its high-end, patient-adjacent hotels that feel more like retreats than sterile rest stops.

I spoke with one of the lead architects on the project, and he arranged for us to get an in-depth, behind-the-scenes look at what they built.

Initially, Stella and Nova were supposed to come along, but magically , everyone had something come up.

They are matchmaking, I’m sure of it, despite how innocently Stella said Noah was taking her to Tybee Island for a sex marathon, and Nova claimed that she’d forgotten that she and Anson had date night planned months ago.

Sex marathon? Date night? My ass!

As for Camy, she pushed hard to be included, but Dom shut that down fast. He told her—firmly—that it was too early for interior design input. With Tommy backing Dom up, Camy had no choice but to step aside.

This has disaster written all over it , I think, as I walk through the hallways of Savannah Lace.

Since we started working together, Dom and I have been circling each other.

I could pretend we weren’t. I could pretend— oh, so many things —but the truth is, it’s like we caught each other’s scent and, voilà , now we want…want…want.

Driving together, just the two of us.

Sharing meals…just the two of us.

It’s a powder keg waiting for a spark.

We’re blowing hot and cold. One minute I’m kissing him like I forgot everything he ever did to hurt me, and the next, I’m giving him the cold shoulder during a project review.

I’m confused.

And he’s not helping by playing it straight. He’s steadfast in being a respectful, professional partner. He’s not trying to charm me or crack my shell with clever little lines.

He’s just…working.

And the bastard is still funny, damn him.

We get along so well—on paper, in meetings, on-site.

It’s infuriating .

It’s intoxicating.

We’re building something together. Again .

And God help me, I can’t tell if it’s just a hospital.

Dom drives his Porsche Taycan like he designs—smoothly and annoyingly.

Does he have to be good at everything?

It’s a car he’s driving, Luna! Maybe you’re waxing poetic, and overreacting, ever think of that?

All the fucking time!

I work on my tablet as we head north on I-16, flipping through case studies and schematics while he hums to a classical jazz playlist.

“Do you ever not work?” he asks.

“Do you ever stop being smug?”

He grins. “Not when I’m winning.”

“Winning what?”

He glances over, waves a hand at me. “ This .”

“This?”

“Time with you, Moonbeam.”

I don’t ask him to expound on that. I want to, but I also don’t. It’s risky. It’s scary. I’m falling for him again .

Hard to fall in when you never fell out, Luna .

What scares me is that I’m starting to forgive him.

I’m starting to forgive and forget the past because I absolutely love spending time with Dom .

But I find that I can’t give in, not entirely, because I worry that history will repeat itself.

Will he cheat again?

And will I keep forgiving him until I live off Xanax like Mama?

“Don’t overthink this,” he cuts into my thoughts as if he knows where my mind wandered to.

“This?” I ask laconically.

“ Us . In a car.”

“This is much better than what you used to drive,” I quip.

I loved the 1991 Volvo 240 Sedan. I called it the Tank—because that’s exactly what it was.

Boxy. Indestructible. About as aerodynamic as a brick.

What it really was, though, was charmingly terrible.

Dom laughs. “It rattled when it hit forty, and wheezed like an asthmatic smoker when going uphill.”

All true. But God, I adored it.

“The Tank had character,” I protest.

“You know, at first, I was embarrassed to drive it…drive you in it, but then I grew attached,” he confesses.

I frown. “Embarrassed?”

He sighs. “Luna, your first car was a BMW.”

“So?”

“The Tank wasn’t fast or cool.”

“But weirdly endearing.” I smile. “We made out for the first time in the backseat of the Tank.”

“Keeping up with American traditions!”

I laugh now. It’s so easy to be with Dom. And why shouldn’t I go for easy when everything has been so hard?

“Dom”—I put a hand on his shoulder—“I loved being in that car with you. There was nothing for you to feel embarrassed about.”

He takes my hand and kisses it softly, puts it back on his shoulder. It’s a soft gesture. It’s a Dom gesture. “Thank you, Moonbeam. It’s taken some years but I have overcome my insecurities…the chip on my shoulder. The one that comes from being the poor kid in a rich school.”

I feel a pang. “I know I said terrible things when you tried to talk to me. And?—”

“Baby, I hurt you. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“But?”

“Let me rephrase. I know now that you didn’t mean it. Then …it played on my insecurities.”

I had been cruel to him, told him that I was a Steele and there was nothing he and I could have because he wasn’t a social peer. He’s right, I had been hurt, but my behavior had been reprehensible.

“I am sorry, Dom. I should never have?—”

“You don’t apologize for feeling what you feel,” he cuts me off.

“Do you…ah…forgive me?”

He flashes me a smile that makes my heart flip. “Moonbeam, you’re perfect, do you know that? In my heart, there’s nothing to forgive. Just space—space that belongs to you, always has. ”

My breath catches. He means it. Every word of it. And that, more than anything, undoes me.

I look out of the window, feeling, oh so much. The hurt of the past. The joy of the now.

“Remember when Mama caught us?” he says, breaking through my thoughts.

I can still feel the embarrassment of Dom’s mama finding us in his room, in his bed, making out. We were nineteen. He was home from Cornell, and we’d been desperate for each other.

“I still cringe when I think about it,” I admit.

“She asked me after you left if I loved you,” Dom tells me.

I wait.

“I told her more than anyone, even her.”

My heart clenches, stops, then starts to beat harder and faster.

“Dom—”

“I do, Luna, love you.”

I shake my head. I don’t know what to say.

He glances at me, long enough to hold my gaze, before getting back to the road. “Give us a chance, Moonbeam.”

I swallow. “A chance?” I whisper.

I’ve got a reputation for being a tough bitch, a bad ass, strong, confident—and yet, with Dom, I’m a girlie girl, waiting for the boy I like to pay attention to me. And he’s been doing that. As Stella always teases him, he follows me around. It’s sweet, even though I pretend it’s irritating.

“Yes, baby.” He grips my hand in his as he looks straight ahead at the road. “ Please . Let me show you how much I love you.”

I want to be brave and take what the man I love is offering.

There has been no other man who’s made me feel safe and seen, who inspires me, who makes me think I can be more than I am.

There’s been no other man who makes love to me with a hunger that matches my own.

There’s been no other man I can imagine having a family with. It’s Dom. It’s always been Dom.

“What if you cheat on me again?”

“Not going to happen.”

“You’re driving…this is not the place for this.” I lean back in the plush leather seat and close my eyes. “Let’s just get through this trip.”

“And then?” he urges.

I can feel his eyes on me. There’s demand in them, a pull asking me to open my eyes…and my heart.

Dom has always been potent. Magnetic. Unapologetically driven. He didn’t get where he is in life or his career by waiting for doors to open. He pushes them. Claims what he wants. Works for it—and takes it.

Now, he wants to work for you, Luna.

I don’t open my eyes, and he doesn’t push me to.

He also doesn’t let go of my hand.

We arrive at Holy Park just past noon .

The hospital is clean-lined, beautiful, and unassuming. It whispers luxury without showing off, and makes you feel taken care of just by walking through the door.

The lobby is flooded with natural light, filtered through solar glass, which adjusts to reduce glare and heat gain throughout the day.

We’re barely minutes into the tour, and I’m already filing away a dozen details—motion-triggered ventilation, recycled composite paneling, the way the floors are laid to minimize acoustics.

“Isn’t it stunning?” our guide gushes.

Kirsten is the head of sustainability for Holy Park. She’s knowledgeable, enthusiastic, and very clearly into Dom.

What’s with him and women throwing themselves at him?

Women, girls, anyone who identifies as female, has always had a thing for Dom. He’s handsome. He’s charming. He looks like a fucking movie star.

I notice the way Kirsten keeps flipping her hair, how her hand lingers a beat too long on Dom’s forearm when he compliments the lighting schematic. She laughs just a little too loudly, keeping her body angled toward him as if this were a first date and not a professional walkthrough.

I don’t give a damn.

Liar, liar, pants on fire!

We step into a narrow courtyard tucked between two wings of the hospital—a serene, open-air garden filled with native plants, vertical trellises, and pollinator boxes mounted along the south-facing wall .

Kirsten gestures proudly. “This is our healing garden. Everything planted here is drought-tolerant and zero-maintenance. It’s irrigated through a graywater recovery system from the surgical suites. We’ve seen a measurable impact on patient recovery metrics—especially in oncology.”

I nod, impressed. “Love the use of regional flora. And I assume you incorporated permeable pavers for runoff?”

Kirsten beams, not at me, but at my colleague, even though I’m the one asking the question.

“Exactly! I mean, not everyone understands that, but I’m sure you do, Dom.” She puts her hand on her heart. “I looked you up. You won the Pritzker. That’s…so amazing.”

He nods. “Thanks.”

There is absolutely no indication that he’s noticing her fawning. No indication he’s interested.

Well, good! The bitch can live then!

“It’s basic sustainable design.” I get into her face. “But well executed.”

Kirsten falters for half a second, then turns to Dom. “What do you think, Dom?”

He’s amused. I can see it.

I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t.

Gotta be professional, Luna.

“Luna is already planning something similar for the pediatric wing,” Dom says placidly. “Our green space is north-facing, but we’ve got the airflow to make it work.”

“You know, Luna, if you want, I can get someone to take you to the ventilation system,” Kirsten suggests, fluttering her fake fucking eyelashes at Dom. “Maybe you’d like a fresh juice at our Garden Café.” She waves in the direction of a French bistro-looking place.

“I had a really big lunch,” Dom lies.

We haven’t eaten since breakfast, and in all honesty, I wouldn’t mind a fresh rejuvenation juice. But I wasn’t even offered a beverage.

Kirsten nods, though I can tell she’s disappointed. I almost feel bad for her.

Almost .

Mostly, I feel triumphant because Dom’s not looking at her. He’s looking at me.

He’s polite, attentive—but only about the building.

His eyes keep finding mine. There’s nothing performative about him. No vanity. No flirtation.

And I remember?—

I remember being sixteen, sitting on the porch steps with him, my head on his shoulder, while we whispered dreams into the dark.

I remember being twenty, curled in his bed the night before he left, thinking that we had forever.

He used to look at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

He still does, Luna .

It’s an epiphany. A shock. I’m going through the motions of being okay, but inside me, there’s a tornado of awareness.

It’s terrifying.

Kirsten’s still talking—something about thermal insulation and occupancy-based lighting—but it all blends into a dull hum, like the grown-ups in Peanuts .

Wah-wah-wah.

Dom is still looking at me like I’m the only person in the room.

And how do I look at him?

Well, according to everyone who knows me….

Just last week, Lev groaned, “Please stop the eye-fucking, yeah? He’s my best friend, and you’re my sister. I don’t need that visual burned into my brain.”

Then there was Stella, who said, “You two could light up Atlanta with the electricity between you.”

And Lia, smirking, teased, “If you’re so over Dom, Luna, why is it that when he’s around, he’s all you look at?”

Dom nods at something Kirsten says, engaged, but I see it in his body—he’s not focused on her.

He’s locked into the work. Into the way we’re moving through this space together.

His shoulder brushes mine as we turn into the hallway toward the private recovery rooms.

He murmurs, “Notice the corridor slope? That’s clever—pulls in airflow without overusing the HVAC.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. I love that he does this, just drops in little observations, said quietly, like secrets passed between us.

“Kirsten,” I say, interrupting as she starts to veer off into a tangent about native plants. “Do you have any performance reports from the first year of occupancy?”

Her smile falters slightly. “I can pull those for you before you leave.”

“Great,” I reply smoothly. “Because we’re hoping to show real ROI for our donors, and that we’re building something more than pretty glass.”

Dom glances at me then. His mouth lifts, just barely. Pride flickers across his face. “You are building the biggest, baddest hospital in the South, Luna. I don’t think anyone will think it’s just pretty glass.”

Fine! Okay. So, it’s nice when he compliments you. Looks at you like you’re a fucking queen. But let’s not have a cardiac event here, no matter that this is a hospital. Yeah?