Page 52 of Scorned Beauty (Scorned Fate #5)

Chapter

Thirty-Four

Sloane

I arrived at the gala intact. Not a hair out of place nor lipstick smudged.

To do that, I ordered Dom to sit at the opposite side of the limo because the heat between us when we were within inches of each other was a volatile spark heightened by the confines of the vehicle. The lacy underwear sliding against my pussy only intensified the pulsing ache between my thighs.

We exchanged innocuous conversation, and I didn’t even mention the lingerie he bought me.

The event was held in the Metropolitan Hotel ballroom. The theme was Gilded Splendor.

We put our masks on in the vehicle, and the moment Dom helped me out of the limo, I forgot about him and was in awe of the lavish display before me.

From what I researched about masquerade ball etiquette, it was poor form to identify someone you recognized because the whole purpose was to playfully interact with strangers without the pressure of social status.

In a way, it was the perfect entry into Dom’s world.

Now the remaining anxiety was whether I could exist in it.

The reception hall was another marvel to behold, with the strings of lights evenly spaced around the wall, flaring up into a domed ceiling where the biggest crystal chandelier I’d ever seen was hanging.

And I’d seen a few in my cleaning jobs. From what Lucy had told me, because her mom couldn’t stop talking about it, the chandelier used to hang in the Zahkarov’s castle in Vienna.

Hmm…my snarky side wondered if this was another of their money-laundering schemes. After my initial awe, I finally felt Dom’s gaze on me again and renewed awareness tingled over me.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked by my ear.

“Yes.”

His mask was a simple black one, but it cast him in a sinister aura. In this setting, and in his elegant threads, he reminded me of the notorious rakes of old who debauched innocent virgins or carried on scandalous affairs with married women of the ton.

My mask covered half my face. It had satin backing material, but an intricate silver detailing was stitched over the fabric, giving it structure. Tastefully affixed white feathers softened the sharp edges.

White-gloved attendants spun around the room, serving cocktails and canapés. Dom handed me a fruity martini while he sipped a Negroni from a short, round glass. The drink stimulated my appetite, and I pinched a canapé from the roving server.

We circulated among strangers, but I spotted Dom’s parents and Lucy talking to another group.

I bit into a round pie pastry and an instantly addictive briny, earthy flavor exploded in my mouth.

I devoured it, took a sip of my martini, then left Dom who was exchanging small talk with yet another stranger.

Unmindful that I was wearing a gown, I chased the server who handed me that particular appetizer.

You can take the girl out of Jersey, but you can’t take Jersey out of the girl.

“Can I have another one? What is this?”

The server was also in a mask, so I couldn’t discern his true expression, but the twitch of his mouth almost made me laugh.

“I’m sorry if I’m being uncouth, but this is delicious.” I picked another round pie from the platter. This time, after I took a bite, I studied the filling.

“Black-tie scallops,” the man said. “It’s scallops layered with black truffle.”

You couldn’t live in New York and not know what a black truffle was, and I knew the scallop was its perfect complement at least, but I’d never had a combination this scrumptious. I could feast on this all night long.

“Would you like another one, ma’am?”

Dom came up behind me and whispered, “We still have dinner to get through, baby. Don’t fill up.”

“But these are so good.”

“I’m familiar with the restaurant that makes this. I can have the chef of the event make you enough to come out of your ears.”

I smiled at the server. “Well, carry on. I don’t want to hog you, but give my compliments to the chef.”

The man’s neck turned red, and he cleared his throat. “I will, ma’am.”

Dom turned me around in his arms. “Have I discovered your favorite dish?”

I pondered his question. “It could be. Maybe I have expensive taste after all.”

Dom barked a laugh, calling the attention of the crowd around us.

And why not? It was an attractive laugh, rough and masculine and sexy.

But when I saw a few women’s gazes linger covetously on Dom, possessiveness clawed my skin.

I leaned into him and I was pleased he drew me closer.

Despite my voluminous gown, I fit snugly into his embrace.

The host, the former pakhan Ivan Zahkarov, announced dinner. Another gilded room with warm lighting greeted us. A string quartet provided music, although I heard there would be an elaborate orchestra for dancing later. But as we were escorted to our table, an anvil settled in my gut.

Dom’s parents were already seated at a table that sat nine.

Lucy didn’t have a date, so I guessed they made adjustments to the seating chart and it would have normally accommodated ten.

I was thankfully seated beside her, so I felt a measure of relief that I didn’t have to make small talk with their mother. I could concentrate on dinner.

We removed our masks. The other couples around the table reeked of old money. It was funny how despite not belonging to their class, I could sniff their kind a mile away.

Introductions were made around the table, but their names barely registered. Dom’s mother shot me a tight smile, while his father awarded me a warm one. He actually asked me how I was enjoying myself so far, and I answered courteously and succinctly.

The first course was served, but I barely tasted it. I didn’t even know what it was other than it had some kind of obscure greens. I watched Dom and Lucy on which fork or spoon to use because, all of a sudden, the formal dinner lessons Bianca had instilled in me went out the window.

The person beside Dom occupied his attention. I had a feeling the man had business he was anxious to discuss with him. I barely heard their conversation, but I detected a hint of annoyance in Dom’s voice. His hand found my thigh under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“So, it’s Miss Scott, is it?” one of the ladies asked. Her mask was the red one. “What is it you do?”

Dom stilled. I could feel frost ice him over.

“I’m a nurse or will be as soon as I pass the exams.”

The woman appeared baffled, like she couldn’t understand my choice of profession, and when she glanced at Dom, it was like she couldn’t believe that he would bring me to this event.

Would it make me more palatable in her eyes if I informed her I attended a Swiss finishing school and jetted to Monte Carlo every weekend?

I didn’t feel the need to defend myself.

“Oh, but you might move on to medicine, right?” Carlotta quickly interjected. “Be a surgeon?” Dom’s mother attempted to mold me into a more palatable light, but it only made me feel worse.

“That’s not happening,” Dom cut in. “Sloane wants to be a nurse. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” his mother said. “But it’s a logical next step.”

No, it wasn’t. At least, not to me.

My throat tightened, trying to keep my emotions from reaching my eyes, but my entire face was on fire.

“A nurse is a noble profession,” the woman’s husband said and shot me an apologetic look.

She shrugged her elegant shoulders and took a sip of her wine. “Well, Miss Scott, Harvard has a health management program. It’s one of the highest-paid professions in the healthcare industry.”

Lucy gave an unladylike snort, prompting a glare from her mother.

“Highest paid? Riiiight,” Lucy scoffed. “It’s because their bottom line is not patient care but how to make money for their stockholders.”

“Lucy!” Carlotta hissed.

But my girl had my back, so I had to put in my two cents.

“Yes, I prefer to remain a nurse, thank you very much. Nurses put the care in healthcare, not the administrators who decide how to make money for the hospital. Remember that when your children put you in a nursing home, who’s going to make sure you…

you get the right meds…” This is the wrong place to mention changing their diapers and bedpans.

“Or who will train the staff in patient mobility?” I was getting fired up. Because fuck them.

“You tell them, baby.” I could feel Dom’s gaze on me.

“Yes, Mamma,” Lucy laughed. “Be careful. We’ll decide which nursing home to stick you in.”

“Lucy, cara mia .” Paulie De Lucci’s admonishment to his daughter was laced in humor.

An older couple at the table, who looked to be in their seventies, were nodding their heads. The woman said, “I love my nurse more than my doctor.”

“Hey,” her husband said. “I’m your doctor.”

I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.

The man regarded me with what was akin to reverence. “I can attest nurses are the true heroes. I would be lost without my nursing staff.”

Our server arrived with the second course and effectively changed the uncomfortable topic.

When dessert was served, Lucy grabbed my arm. “Let’s powder our noses.”

Dom’s brows furrowed, and he oddly checked his phone, but nodded.

I followed Lucy, apprehensive of what was going down.

I knew this was about Tomlin, and I’d overheard the siblings arguing the other night that Dom didn’t want me anywhere near him.

That detestable couple was part of my past, and if Tomlin was a pedophile, I was a hundred percent behind what Lucy had planned for him.

She dragged me into the ladies’ room and checked the stalls.

“What’s going on?”

“Vivienne wants a deal,” she said. “Someone from the media informed them that there was going to be a headline tonight that would prove scandalous for the Tomlins.”

“You can’t give them a deal. Her husband is a sicko, and she’s protecting him.” Which made her a sicko too.

“We’re not.”

Her phone pinged again. “Shit. The headline is out. You need to brace,” she told me.