Page 23 of Scorned Beauty (Scorned Fate #5)

Chapter

Fifteen

Sloane

“Are you sure about this?” Phil asked while we waited in his parked SUV outside the Hummingbird Room.

“I’m sure.”

Five days had passed since the shootout at the Venezia Tower. Phil was the fed who carried me out of there, but he was struck in the back. Fortunately, he’d been wearing a vest. I suffered a concussion.

One of their agents wasn’t so lucky. A round struck his neck and he bled out instantly.

No word about Billy. Anton took him.

Phil kept me in a safe house. Without the thumb drive, they didn’t have enough to prosecute the politician and incriminate the Russians other than breaking and entering the Venezia Tower. To make matters worse, their higher-ups considered the operation a bust and shuttered it.

Phil said it was to avoid blowback, and politics above his pay grade were at play.

The New York bratva and the De Lucci crime family had formed an alliance to insulate themselves from whatever Grigori had done. Apparently he’d been going against the wishes of his boss—the pakhan. Also probably why Grigori had gone to ground. His own bratva was hunting him down.

As for me, I was feeling like a stalker. Phil had only this week to watch over me before a new assignment would leave me on my own.

Dom’s limo pulled in front of the Hummingbird Room.

Ambushing him in this manner was the last thing I wanted to do, but all my attempts to contact him failed.

He might have blocked my number. I didn’t want to involve Bianca, because I still didn’t trust the feds.

The ripple effect of this new alliance was unknown, and until I had more insight into it, I blocked the girls’ numbers, too.

It hurt to let go of my girl gang. Come to think of it, our closeness hadn’t been the same since the New Year when the situationship between Dom and I heated up.

In my attempts to hide the affair from them, I effectively alienated the girls into thinking I was too busy with nursing school to hang out with them.

Anyway, I was getting rid of my number after this. Getting rid of it and disappearing.

I braced myself when the limo door swung open. The last time I saw Dom, he had his hands on another woman. A woman who was most likely dead.

Seeing him emerge from the limo, dressed in an expensive tuxedo and looking every inch a man who bled power and money, I was reminded that my time with him was nothing but a pipe dream.

He fixed the cuff of his sleek jacket, but it was as if I’d willed him to look in my direction.

His body stilled. His eyes darkened, which sent a chill of unease racing down my spine. This was not the man who I’d indulged a fun clandestine affair with. Well, it was fun in the beginning until I caught feelings.

“Dom,” I whispered and did a lame wave. There were security personnel scattered around. It wasn’t a crowded celebrity gala, but there was no question it was a rich-people event.

For a second, I thought he was going to ignore me.

A man suited up like the Secret Service was already asking me to move aside.

Me. Who was dressed in an oversized touristy sweatshirt with the words “I love New York” emblazoned across it.

Ill-fitting sweatpants and canvas sneakers finished my pathetic look.

I hadn’t been back to my apartment yet, but that was on my to-do. I wasn’t leaving town without Ginger.

“That’s okay,” Dom told the guy. “I need a word with her.”

Dom clasped my elbow and led me to a quiet corner. “What are you doing here? Do you have a death wish?”

“Grigori—”

“You fucked up,” he gritted. “I figured you for everything else, but not a rat.”

I flinched at the last word. In the mafia, to be called a rat was a death sentence.

“I’m not.”

“Oh, no?” He raised a brow and slid out his phone. “I saved these photos so I could shove them down your deceitful throat.”

He held the screen to my face. I didn’t have to look too closely at the first one, but I recognized it. My heart plummeted to my cheap white sneakers. It was the picture I took of him and the woman in front of the Venezia Tower.

“How—” I was still processing how he was in possession of those pictures.

He cut me off. “Look at this.” He swiped to another one. A picture of me and Phil. What the hell? “You and your neighbor together. You’ve planned this all along.”

“This was the night of Grigori’s job,” I whispered, mind reeling from the damning evidence that proved my duplicity without a way to defend myself. That would only mean …a queasiness roiled in my gut. The feds got to Dom.

“At the Venezia Tower,” he stressed. “I expected you to warn me since I’d sent you that address, but you couldn’t, could you?”

He returned the phone to his pocket. His gaze shifted to an arriving limo before falling back on me. “The feds were waiting for me when I returned from Chicago.”

“When was this?” I whispered.

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re over, remember? You ended it. I should have known better than to go slumming and sleep with someone beneath my league.”

Talons of anguish incapacitated my throat, worse than the time Anton had strangled me. I feared if I opened my mouth, I was going to cry and wouldn’t be able to stop.

Dom gave me one last scathing look before he made a disgusted sound and walked away.

“Dom,” I cried, stumbling to follow him.

I forgot about my pride. I forgot about my dignity.

I forgot about the walls I’d erected so I wouldn’t end up in a position of being ridiculed for daring to want more.

But who was I kidding? I was on the streets begging a man who was way above my station to listen to me.

Because this was more than about me. I needed Dom to help me find Billy.

If he had formed an alliance with the Russians… “Dom, Billy is missing!”

He paused and turned to me, but the condemnation in his eyes slayed me. “Not my problem.” His mouth twisted cruelly. “He’s trash. And I don’t deal with trash.”

“Are you saying I’m trash?” You’re nothing but trash.

I needed him to say it. I needed him to hurt me enough that I could delete the feelings I have for him. I needed him to validate why people like me could never be with people like him.

He raised a brow. “You said it, not me.”

He couldn’t have stated more clearly what exactly he thought of me.

You’re nothing but trash.

Those hated words echoed in my head. The ringing in my ears blocked out the sounds of my surroundings. My gut heaved. My chest grew tight. My emotions blurred my vision.

You’re nothing but trash.

I will not cry. I will not cry.

Cruelty I’d never seen before carved itself on Dom’s face.

“Make sure she leaves,” he spoke to the suited security who stopped me earlier.

The man blocked me from getting near Dom. “I’m sorry, lady. Leave or I’ll have to call the cops.”

“I got her,” Phil said behind me.

Dom glanced over his shoulder and saw the fed. He emitted another disgusted scoff and returned his attention to the arriving limo.

“That was hard to watch,” Phil muttered.

But Dom wasn’t done shredding my heart. He opened the door to the luxury vehicle. Even with Phil dragging me away, a compunction to stay became an overwhelming defense mechanism to torture myself to the point of obliterating my feelings for this man.

Like a horror movie unreeling, I watched a tiny woman gowned in an exquisite blue satin dress, plant her golden-heeled dainty feet on the ground. Her hair fell in glorious blonde waves around her.

A suppressed cry hitched in my throat.

“Let’s go, Sloane.” Sympathy dripped from Phil’s words.

The carnage decimating my heart was too enormous to contain, and I emitted a wounded sob.

Dom smiled charmingly at the blonde. He helped her out of the limo, not once looking my way as if I’d already been forgotten.

I didn’t know how I made it back to Phil’s SUV. It was as if my brain had ceased processing information, simply locked in the scene's agony. I only became aware of my surroundings when we reached the tunnel.

“You can’t stay around here while things are hot,” Phil told me.

“My brother is missing,” I said, drained and listless.

He didn’t say anything. The hole in my chest expanded, threatening to become a swirling abyss that was going to pull me under. If I wasn’t already seated, I would have crumpled to the ground.

“Dom has pictures of you and me,” I said woodenly.

“He has men following you.”

“What?” This jolted me out of my zombie-like trance.

Phil glanced at the rearview mirror.

“Are they following us right now?”

“Yes. They’re tracking your phone, and that’s why I confiscated it when we went to the safe house.”

“What the actual fuck? And you didn’t think it was a good idea to inform me?”

“Leave town, Sloane. If anything, Dom still cares for your safety.”

“I don’t need him to care for my safety. I need him to help me find Billy!”

When we cleared the Holland Tunnel, I had Phil pull into a public transit parking garage.

I narrowed my eyes at the vehicle that discreetly parked behind another car.

“When did you know I had a tail?”

“The night Billy was taken. My men were clearing the area, and they acted suspicious.”

“Well, you know what? This stops now.” I dialed 911.

Half an hour later, a police cruiser came by.

I let Phil be the go-between with the cops and the men Dom hired to tail me.

One of the officers interviewed me first while the other one detained Dom’s men.

I gave a convincing account of emotional distress from the unauthorized bodyguard detail, saying an old boyfriend had trouble letting me go.

I stayed in the car and almost fist-pumped with glee when Dom had apparently unblocked my number.

Dom

That was stupid. They’re for your protection.

Me

Stop playing mind games. Either you care or you don’t.

I don’t want your death on my conscience.