Page 25 of Between Love and Loathing

Crap.And of course, Dominic was no knight in shining armor. As I ran for them, he responded by yelling to hurry up or something.

“I have to get my purse,” I screeched in determination. Those heels were my favorites too. I stepped into the water, but it was much colder than I thought it’d be. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Waves rolled in and then receded back out. The water went back and forth, back and forth, and I felt my stomach lurch with it as I looked down.

“Jesus, Clara.” I felt his big, calloused hands scoop me up then. “You’re swaying, little fighter. You drink the whole bar tonight?”

“My purse, Dominic. And my shoes. Oh my God, I need my freaking shoes at least.”

“I’ll get you new shoes, cupcake.”

“No. Those are Christian Louboutins. My only ones. And that bag …” My stomach rolled at how much money was floating out to sea. “It was so expensive.”

“Oh really?” He smiled down at me genuinely. A huge smile. I think it was the biggest one I’d ever seen on him. “How much?”

“God, you’re disgustingly beautiful,” I blurted out as I stared at his eyes twinkling down at me with mirth.

“That right?”

“It’s very annoying.” I pouted in his arms as he carried me like a baby through the sand. Everyone must have scattered and left, because I didn’t hear a single sound except his heartbeat and mine.

He hummed, “What size shoe do you wear, Clara?”

“An eight but who freaking cares? Those were one of a kind. And so was the purse.” I groaned.

“I highly doubt it.” His voice was smooth, low, and hot. I felt the vibration of it all the way down to my sex. Wiggling, I tried to push the thought out of my mind but instead, I felt his muscles shifting to keep me from going anywhere.

“You have no idea.” I pouted, glancing behind us, as if I could grab one last glance. “That Birkin bag was at least $50,000.”

He laughed then. “So not expensive then?”

“Ew. Don’t brag.” I shoved him as he walked me through the resort again, laughing at how I curled my lip at him. “Honestly, my mother got it for me …” I didn’t continue because thinking of the time we had when she wasn’t cruel to me brought tears to my eyes.

He frowned down at me. “How is she? You never called, so I assumed you two mended things.”

I didn’t understand this Dominic—one who might care underneath his hard exterior, the one who’d protected me against Hank and my mother, the one who gave Paloma her sign, the one who asked me things. I wrung my hands against my stomach and looked out into the dark night. “Sometimes mending things with certain people means you break yourself.”

He hummed without agreeing or disagreeing. “How far is home, cupcake? I’ll drive you.”

He’d drive me home even though he had no idea where I lived. And how ridiculous was that, because Dominic had moments of compassion but at the end of the day, he hadn’t even taken the time to meet me once outside of work. “Of course you will. Ditch me after not even fucking me, and then send me right on home.” I was grumbling nonsense at this point. “Thank God my phone and my keys are in my bra or I would have had to call my landlord.”

He said something like I should forget it and that it didn’t matter.

“Where are we going?”

Of course he didn’t answer. He wove in and out of hallways, not going toward the parking lot at all. Instead, he swiped a card on the elevator and took me to the top floor.

“My apartment isn’t up here, Dominic,” I singsonged to him.

“Guess you’re not going to call me Mr. Hardy anymore?” he asked.

“Not when you’re carrying me off into the night like you’re a dream instead of my nightmare.”

“Am I your nightmare, Ms. Milton?”

I didn’t know how to answer as he swiped his fob over the penthouse entry keypad and carried me in.

Dominic Hardy was an enigma of a man, and I didn’t think he wanted me to figure him out.