Page 36 of Scorned Beauty

“I’m not asking for a lot. The reason this was supposed to work was because we were both too busy for a relationship.” A faint smile quirked my lips. “The sex is great, Dom, but show me respect. My time is as valuable as yours. If you can’t see me as an equal in that regard, then this ends now.”

My body was struggling with the pain in my pelvis, but I held his eyes. I thought he was going to scoff at my words, use his position as boss to belittle what I did, but by now I’d concede that one reason I was attracted to Dom was because he was one of the good-guy mobsters. I’d met a lot of assholes where misogyny and entitlement were embedded in their DNA, a birthright, but the De Luccis were more evolved, judging by how Bianca, Sera, and Ivy were thriving. Bianca’s mom Ava headed a successful Irish pub franchise, and I heard how her husband, Cesar, empowered her.

My information was sparse regarding Dom’s parents, other than his mother was the sister of Luca, the Chicago crime boss who Bianca wasn’t too fond of.

So Dom was still a wild card to me, but if he’d been a doctor, I would’ve commended him on his excellent bedside manner.

“Do you have a heating pad?”

That question caught me unaware, and at the furrowing of my brow, he said, “What? I have a sister.”

“Her name is Lucy, right?”

“Yeah.”

The only time I’d seen her was at Bianca’s wedding. She was one of the bridesmaids.

“So, were you a doting older brother or the type who dismembered her Barbies?”

“That last bit was oddly specific. But I was both.” He winked and rose to his feet. “I’ll check on the water.”

I hugged my knees to my chest as another cramp hit me, but my thoughts drifted to Dom’s sister. From what I’d gleaned from my chats with the girls, Lucy was the rebellious child of the De Luccis. She didn’t get along with her mother, but I didn’t remember why. She seemed to get along with Bianca and Sera at the wedding, although I wouldn’t describe their interactionas spontaneous. It was more typical of a relative who you see during the holidays and not the daily-text-exchange type.

Dom returned. “Ready, Firecat? I’ll undress you in the bathroom.”

“I can walk,” I protested, but he’d already lifted me.

“Why deny yourself a full-service spa experience?” he drawled.

“I don’t want to get used to this,” I argued, but I burrowed deeper into Dom’s chest. This was surreal. I’d seen flashes of his caring side, his ideal-boyfriend material side, and at times it made me wonder why he wasn’t in a relationship. Then these past two weeks of silence reminded me why. But he followed it with this. I had to remind myself that the reason I didn’t want to ask for help from other people or depend on other people was because then I wouldn’t get hurt when they abandoned me. If Dom hadn’t texted me for another week, I would have moved on and excised him from memory and never given him a chance again.

What if I hadn’t sent that picture to Bianca? Would he be here?

When we entered the bathroom, the tight space was already filled with steam. Dom set me down, and helped me out of my dress, and slid off my panties.

He kissed my forehead before turning me around and kept my back warm in my nakedness while we waited for the tub to fill up.

“I wish I could have rinsed first before getting in there,” I said. Dom’s chin was resting on my shoulder.

“And I wish I could get in there with you.”

Despite my wooziness, I laughed a little. “Your long limbs would make it hard. I can barely fit in there.”

My tub was tiny. I was lucky this unit had one at all. But it was a combo tub and shower. Dom must have found mylavender bath bombs because the scent reached my nose and it was soothing.

“Come on, baby.” Dom edged me closer, bent past me, and shut off the water.

“I need to remove my tampon.” My cheeks burned. “Can you…”

I was about to ask him to leave the bathroom when I felt his fingers between my legs.

I gasped, “Dom!” and squeezed my thighs together, trapping his wayward hand, my mind spinning on what he was about to do.

He lowered his head by my ear, “Open, baby.”

“What are you doing?”

“Removing your tampon.”