DOM: Chapter 15

Nearly a minute passes before the door swings open.

But it’s not King; it’s his housekeeper.

“Hey, Val,” Ginger greets me before she does a double take of Dom. “Come on in. King’ll be just a second.”

“Thank you,” I try to say normally as we move into the grand entryway.

Ginger smiles, then heads up the grand staircase to the second story to continue with whatever she was doing.

The entryway is large and echoey, and from here, the house goes off in a few directions. It’s an absurd home, but it proves that I wasn’t lying when I said King was really rich.

I turn to face Dominic, wondering if there’s something I should say to prepare him, but movement down the hall behind him tells me we’re out of time.

Because King is walking toward us.

“Val?” King’s voice fills the space.

Dom closes his fingers around my wrist as I step around him so his bulk isn’t blocking King’s view of me.

“Uh, hi.” I put on my brightest smile.

King smiles back at me. “What’s—”

Then Dominic turns so we’re standing side by side, still holding my wrist, and King’s smile disappears.

Oh god, he’s not gonna take this well.

“King.” I hold up my free hand. “This is—”

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” King’s voice booms through the space.

I start to stumble back a step. I’ve never heard King so loud before. But Dom slides his grip up my arm to steady me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, not understanding why he’s so angry. And not sure who I’m apologizing to.

But neither man hears me.

“Don’t raise your voice around my wife.” Dominic’s tone is cold. Ice to King’s fire.

King stops walking just a few steps away. “What did you just say?”

“King.” I try again. This is spiraling out of control. “Please don’t be mad.”

“Mad?” He takes another step closer. “You bring Dom Fucking Gonzalez, the head of the Chicago mafia, into my home, and you don’t want me to be mad?”

“I…” My breaths are coming fast now. “What?”

I look up at Dominic.

He’s still standing next to me. Still holding my arm. But there’s an expression on his face I don’t recognize.

“Dominic?” I blink up at him.

That can’t be true.

Dom can’t be that.

They can’t know each other.

King’s furious gaze holds me in place as he points a finger at my husband. “Tell me he’s lying. Tell me you didn’t marry this piece of shit.”

Head of the Chicago mafia.

With Dominic still gripping my upper arm, I bend my elbow and bring my left hand before me, the beautiful ring glinting in the light.

Dom makes a clicking sound with his tongue. “Is that any way to welcome me into The Alliance?”

Everything slows.

In one awful, horrible second, everything slows.

The Alliance.

Dom knows about The Alliance.

He knows King.

He’s in the mafia.

Something tightens around my throat.

It’s a coincidence.

It’s some terrible coincidence.

“Dominic?” My voice is weak, but I know he hears me, because his fingers flex around my arm. “What’s going on?”

Please, let this be some sort of mistake.

But he doesn’t look at me. His eyes are still locked on King.

King takes another step closer until he’s within arm’s reach.

“What do you want?” King grits out the question, squaring off with Dominic, waiting for his answer.

Me.

Please say you want me.

“To join The Alliance.”

My knees weaken.

No. No, no, no, no.

This can’t be happening.

I thought…

Dom’s grip on my arm tightens, and I realize I’ve sagged against him.

I thought he…

I try to jerk away from Dominic, but his hold doesn’t budge.

“Not a chance,” King growls. “Did you seriously think you could pull a stunt like this and—”

Dom cuts him off, taking a step forward and bringing me with him. “There is no stunt. This little sister of yours has been wedded and bedded. That makes me family, and if you have any honor at all, King Vass, you know that means I’m a part of The Alliance now.”

Sorrow, like I’ve never felt before, blankets over me. And those last tiny pieces of hope, the little broken shards I’ve been carrying since I was nine, finally crumble into sand.

I was so close.

Tears form and fall in the space of a heartbeat.

I was so goddamn close to having what I’ve always wanted.

And it was all a fucking lie.

I have to tell my lungs to fill. Have to force them to suck in air.

It was all a setup.

A trick.

More tears roll down my cheeks.

I thought I could make him love me.

A strange sound comes out of my throat, but no one hears it.

No one is paying attention to me.

I thought someone finally cared.

But Dom never cared about me.

He did this for The Alliance.

He married me for The Alliance.

King darts his hand out and grips the front of Dom’s shirt. But Dom does the same back to King, not backing down from King’s fury.

I don’t want to be this close.

I don’t want to be this close to these dangerous men.

I try to shrink away, but Dom won’t let me go.

“Tricking Val into your bed doesn’t mean shit,” King snaps.

And his words slice between my ribs.

Tricking Val.

It’s exactly what Dominic did, so why does hearing King say it hurt so much?

And what does he mean doesn’t mean shit? What part doesn’t mean shit? The sex part?

Or the me part?

Dread hits me.

What if Dom did all this, only to find out I’m not family enough?

What if his plan doesn’t work?

What will happen to me then?

I reach up with my right hand and press it over my heart.

I’m already a nobody.

“You owe me. Remember?” Dom says slowly. “A wife for a wife, King. Val is mine now.”

Val.

I don’t think he’s ever called me that. It was always Valentine. Or Angel. Or Shorty. Or…

When he called me Mama at the airport.

My eyes squeeze shut.

When I followed him into that little room. When I had sex with him.

Numbness starts to wash through me. Starting at my toes. Up to my ankles.

I’m such a fool.

It’s at my knees.

Such a sad, pathetic, love-starved fool.

My hips.

So desperate for love, I believed that the hot man on the airplane was desperate to be with me.

My belly button.

So goddamn broken, I believed every compliment.

I clung to every nice thing he said.

My rib cage.

So fucking lonely, I drunkenly married him and…

A fresh layer of sadness sinks into my chest, and I look up at Dominic Gonzalez.

“Were you even drunk?” I ask the thought out loud.

I have to blink to see through the tears, but I know the answer in my heart.

And the blank expression on Dom’s face as he looks down at me is all the confirmation I need.

So I nod.

He wasn’t drunk. Just me. Because he needed me to be. Because he needed me to marry him.

It was never about me.

The numbness rises to my shoulders, the horrible ache in my heart finally dulling as I let the disassociation win.

He’ll never love me.

No one ever has.

King lets go of Dom’s shirt with a shove. “Get out of my fucking house.”

I don’t look up to see if he’s talking to just Dom or to both of us.

Because it doesn’t really matter, does it?

I don’t belong here either.

I don’t belong anywhere.