Page 16 of Loss and Damages

I look down at my bare feet. I could use a pedicure, but a couple quick strokes of nail polish will be all I’ll have time for. “I have heels that’ll work. I don’t want to spend any more money on tonight.”

“I hope it’s worth it, Jemma. The Milanos...I know you and Jeremy were joking the night of Leo’s wake, but they’re dangerous and Dominic’s into some stuff I wouldn’t want to be associated with. No one can say one nice thing about him in the news.”

That’s something that’s been bothering me.

Leo hated what his brother is mixed up in.

Couldn’t stand the way Dominic and his father did business.

I saw the hard-nosed asshole Dominic can be, pinning me with a hateful stare and calling me a gold digger, not understanding what my relationship with his brother was, but I also saw a man mourning, trying to find an explanation.

The juxtaposition is confusing and it’s tempting to want to draw out the hurt, grieving part of the man and ignore the rest.

It’s not possible, or Leo would have done it.

“I know. He’s not Leo. You don’t have to remind me. Help me change so we can leave. I want to check in with Ashley before I get dressed and the car picks me up.”

I pay Becca, imagining my credit card whimpering as she runs the total.

I should have accepted Dominic’s offer, but I don’t want to be indebted to him for anything.

I can afford the dress, though the price would have been easier to pay if I knew I could wear it other places.

Maybe Dominic and the fundraiser will be worth it, but I doubt it.

Tara drives back to the city around six, leaving me alone, my hair done, my makeup applied, the dress’s hem floating delicately around my ankles. My heels give me three more inches, but they still won’t elevate me to the height I need to look Dominic in the eyes.

To soothe my nerves, I sip at the last of the red wine he left behind, and the alcohol helps me relax.

The gallery’s still open, and hiding, I walk around the back and down the road, just a little.

I don’t know what kind of car Dominic’s sending for me, but I don’t want it parking in front of my shop.

With the view of the lake and the wine, I’m almost calm when a limo glides down the two-lane road looking completely out of place.

Not any more than me, I suppose, dressed to go to a black-tie fundraiser, standing on the side of the road like a lost high-end escort.

The car stops near me, and the back door opens.

“Why are you standing in the road?” Dominic asks, stepping out of the car.

“What are you doing here?” I ask in response, completely taken aback that he rode out here. I assumed I’d have the car to myself.

“I wasn’t going to let you ride forty-five minutes alone, and I didn’t think you’d be thrilled with the idea of walking into the hotel by yourself. Despite what you might have heard, I do know how to treat a woman.”

“Many of them,” I mutter, walking past him and brushing the crisp white shirt of his tux.

He looks delectable, just the right amount of scruff along his jaw, his hair loose and framing his face.

Leo liked wearing his hair longer and loose too, but while it looked cute and maybe even playful on him, on Dominic it looks threatening.

I try to slip into the limo, but he grabs my upper arm and squeezes. He stares at me, his eyes black and smoking like smoldering coal.

“Is it a crime to seek solace, Miss Ferrell?” he asks, so lowly that the cries of the seagulls flying over the lake almost drown him out. “Isn’t that what Leo was doing with you? And you with him? Looking for peace? Did you find it?”

“Peace provided by someone else is fleeting, Mr. Milano. No one can give it to you. You have to find it within yourself.”

“Have you?”

I stare up at him, pain etched into his face. “No.”

“You had it with Leo.”

“And now it’s gone.” I jerk away from him and slide onto the soft leather bench. I wish I wouldn’t have said I’d do this. I’m already regretting it and the evening hasn’t even begun.

He settles on the bench next to me and slams the door closed. The limo glides past my gallery and the customers inside.

“You look beautiful,” he says and gestures to an ice bucket holding a bottle of champagne. “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, please.”

The windows are tinted but I can still watch the countryside streak by as the limo’s driver picks up speed on the highway into the city.

I sip on the flute of champagne, pacing myself.

I’ve never been to a fundraiser, but I’m assuming something like this will supply plenty of alcohol and I don’t want to meet Dominic’s mother tipsy.

It isn’t important to me that I impress her since I’ll never see her again, but for my own reputation it would be nice if I didn’t do anything stupid simply because I gave in to my fears.

“You’re quiet,” he says, shifting toward me.

“I don’t have much to say. Where’s the fundraiser?”

“It’s being held at one of our hotels. We waived the rental fee and donated the catering. Philanthropy was one of Leo’s passions, but he rarely made public appearances. I think your friend Gloria was correct. Leo had something special planned for you, Jemma.”

I look away. “I think you’re wrong,” I whisper.

He doesn’t reply.

We sit in silence until the driver reaches the city, and it’s another twenty minutes as he navigates the evening crush.

He, or I suppose the driver could be a woman, stops in front of the Rosewood Hotel, the most expensive hotel in St. Charlotte.

I’ve never been inside, and I hold my breath whenever I walk past hoping that just being near the damned thing doesn’t suck all the money out of my wallet.

The driver parks and opens the door. It is a man. Tall, short black hair, and a bored expression.

“Thank you.”

“Miss Ferrell.” He tips his head at me as Dominic slides out of the limo.

The hotel is set off the sidewalk by wide, concrete stairs, and the staff has laid out a glamorous red carpet for the fundraiser’s attendees.

Dominic holds his arm out, and I have no choice but to accept the offer, wrapping my hand around his muscular bicep.

I can’t snub him in front of the press, especially since we arrived together.

We step toward the glass doors, and photographers take our pictures.

I try to ignore them. I hadn’t planned on showing up in the news or society pages.

I don’t want the attention, but as a businesswoman, I can possibly use it to generate new customers.

“You handled that well,” Dominic says as the doorman opens one of the glass doors and we step through.

“If you mean I handled that well by not handling it, I guess I did. I’m not used to that kind of thing.”

“I bet Leo liked that about you.”

The cream and gold lobby steals my breath, and distracted by the richness of the hotel, I forget to answer him.

Huge skylights let in the light from the setting sun and a fountain sits near the back flanked by huge, sweeping staircases that go only God knows where.

My heels click over the marble floor, and I trip over my own feet.

“Steady,” he says, catching me before I fall flat on my face. “Haven’t you been here before?”

“I’ve never needed to.”

“I can show you around later, if you’d like.”

Looking at him out of the corners of my eyes, I try to figure out if he’s propositioning me into going upstairs to a room, but he seems sincere, offering to show me the hotel if I want to see more of it. There’s no point. “No, thank you. I doubt I’ll ever need to come back.”

“As you wish.”

Something in his tone slithers over my skin.

I disappointed him. Maybe he was looking forward to spending time alone with me, but there’s no point in that, either.

I promised myself I would be finished with the Milanos after tonight.

I need to let what Leo and I had go, and I can only do that if I keep the Milanos in my past.

Dominic guides me through the lobby and down a wide corridor that has small groups of seating arrangements and vases upon vases of cream roses. Their sweet scent fills the air and it mingles with the woodsy, amber musk of Dominic’s cologne.

I didn’t think to wear perfume. I was so nervous about tonight I’m lucky I remembered deodorant.

With his hand to my lower back, we turn the corner and a set of doors opens into a luxurious ballroom.

The space could easily seat five hundred people, and more flowers decorate the tables.

Fairy lights hang from the ceiling, and an orchestra plays in one of the ballroom’s corners.

Three bartenders behind a long bar are busy pouring champagne and mixing cocktails.

The women are dressed similar to me, though their gowns look five times more expensive than mine.

Still, I’ll pass for the few hours we’re here, and I breathe a little easier.

I never cared about fitting in, but I’ve never liked standing out because of the wrong reasons.

When we step into the ballroom, a hush falls over the crowd and everyone turns to us.

I fight a blush. I won’t apologize for who I am or where I come from.

Lifting my chin, I struggle for control, until I scan the faces of the benefit’s guests who are blatantly staring and they aren’t staring at me. Their eyes are on Dominic, and his face is as hard as stone.

“What’s going on?” I ask as he grips my arm and pulls me through the crowd.

“Nothing. Let’s find my mother.”

“People glowering at you isn’t nothing.”

“They aren’t glowering.”

“They aren’t happy to see you.”

“Not many people are, Jemma.”

He steers me around a group of guests sipping champagne and laughing.

“How do you know where she is?”

“She likes music. She’ll be near the orchestra.”

“Oh.”

The orchestra’s playing a classical piece I can’t identify, but then, I’ve never been a fan of classical music, preferring to listen to the music my mom and dad did while I was growing up.