Written By Fate (14 page)

I tear the ribbon from the box and pull the lid off to
reveal an elegant navy blue floor-length gown, lingerie, strappy heels to
match, and a clutch. What the hell is he up to? I slump down the bed next to
the box and wonder if I really am up for round two, given that round one
seriously caught me off guard. What will two bring? I shove the box to the
floor and click on the TV. I don’t want to play games.

I order a light dinner at six and have it delivered to my
room. While eating it I kick the box as if that will make me feel better but it
doesn't. I don't understand what he’s doing but it’s irritating me. At seven,
curiosity gets the better of me and I stand at the bathroom mirror and start
applying a coat of flawless make-up. I dress at seven forty-five, skipping the
heels and instead donning my cowboy boots. The gown barely grazes the floor and
accentuates my curves in the best way possible. Tucking my hair behind my ears
I give myself a once-over and silently repeat my rules. No touching Dominic tonight.
If he wants to play then he will at least have to play by my rules.

I tuck what I need into the clutch and head to the lobby at
five past eight, not caring that I’ve missed his deadline. I feel ridiculous
this dressed-up, standing alone, looking like a chump amid the hustle and
bustle of the Hilton lobby, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now that
I’m here. A man in a black suit approaches me.

“Ms. Lord?” he asks with a little smile.

“Yes.”

“I’m Dean, your driver tonight.” He extends an arm to me and
I willingly take it and follow him to the car waiting outside. He ushers me
into the car, closes my door for me, and hops into the front seat.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Miami Art Museum Ball,” he answers.

Drunk & Disorderly

Upon arrival, guests are greeted by the MAM Director. He
shakes my hand lightly and wishes me a good evening. Cocktails and hors
d'oeuvres make their way around the room while people bid on “Priceless Experiences”
like an exclusive South Beach Wine and Food Festival package, a private
Lebanese dinner at the Wahab home prepared by Susie Wahab, or a night for 24 at
Magnum Lounge. I wander aimlessly looking for Dominic. I’ve all but given up
when a hand comes to the small of my back and a deep voice says, “I’m pleased
you could make it, Clara.” Taking a step away I turn to a tuxedo-clad Dominic.

“I don’t know why,” I retort dryly.

“Having a date makes these things more bearable.”

“Ah. So I’m to be arm candy tonight?” I whip back at him.

“If you don't mind.”

“And if I do?” I question, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You won't.” His arrogance makes me bristle.

“How is it you’re invited to an event for the arts?” I snap.

“MAM works closely with the community to develop and carry
out the largest arts education program outside of the Miami-Dade County Public
Schools system. I’m on the board of trustees,” he informs me. We’re interrupted
by some guests wanting to speak with Dom. He introduces me politely and answers
their questions before escorting me to the upper level.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks as he pulls my chair
out for me.

“The cocktails were great, if that counts,” I snort. He
smirks and scoots me in to the table. Dinner is served in the upper-level
gallery, which was transformed into a scene created by New Work Miami artist Emmett
Moore, apparently known for his innovative experimentation between the fields
of art and design, at least that’s what I’m told. Just before dinner is served
Dom excuses himself from the table. Taking his place at the podium, he begins
his speech. “Tonight we gather to honor and celebrate our significant shared
history during this special year, our last at the Cultural Center,” Dominic
addresses the attendees. His voice is smooth and confident and he looks
powerful. “On behalf of the board of trustees, I would like to thank all of
you, the museum’s long-time supporters and friends, who are here with us
tonight. Let this year see another $700,000 raised for the museum’s public
programming. Now please, enjoy dinner.” Applause rings out as Dominic leaves the
podium and filters through the crowd back to my side. He leans in often, and I
lean away. His hand brushes mine and I remove it from his reach. As people
finish eating, many stop to chat with him and, always the gentleman, he
introduces me, each time giving him an excuse to touch me which I’m forced to
tolerate until his acquaintances leave.

“You’re awfully frigid tonight,” he says in a low voice.

“I don’t know what you mean, Dom.”

He takes my elbow and leads us to a quiet corner.

“It’s Dominic and you know exactly what I mean,” he growls.
I tug my arm free from his grip and take a step back from him. If stress was a
drug I would be high as a kite right now.

“You’re Dom to me. I don’t know what game you’re playing but
if you want me to play along you’ll have to follow my rules,” I snip.

“What are these rules, Clara?” he plays along.

“There’s only one. I didn't want to overwhelm you...no
touching,” I state firmly. He barks with laughter. “I’m sorry if you think
that’s funny but I assure you it’s not a joke,” I hiss at him. His eyes grow
dark and his jaw ticks.

“It’s in both our best interests, don't you think? We
wouldn't want anyone doing unwanted things to me in my hotel room would we?” I
say sweetly.

“Unwanted? Clara, you said yes,” he snaps at me.

“I was asleep alone in my locked hotel room!” I cry. His
eyes dart around the room looking to see if anyone heard me. Grabbing me by the
waist he moves us further away from the guests.

“Keep your voice down. I asked. You consented,” he snips.

“You broke in. I thought I was dreaming,” I exasperate and
push out of his hold.

“You dream about me?” he smirks, looking satisfied.

“Often, and that’s exactly why there is no touching,” I
admit. “I show up after eight months and you don't even extend me the courtesy
of a conversation,” I seethe and put more distance between us.

“Courtesy? You think you deserve that? I think you deserve
exactly what you got last night.” He prowls towards me slowly. He looks pissed.
Scratch that, he looks flipping mad as hell. “I finally get you...bring you to
a family function where you embarrass me and refuse to tell me why....I fly you
home and sleep on your couch, endure the wrath of Sawyer and overhear you pick
him after sleeping with me twenty-four hours earlier. I hardly think you deserve
my courtesy.” He looks even angrier and continues towards me as I continue
backing up.

“Well, when you put it like that...” I waiver.

“Tell me, Clara, why are you here?” he pushes.

“I...I’m miser....I needed to see you,” I finally manage as
my back hits the wall. Dominic stops just shy of touching me and places both
hands on the wall at either side of me. I feel trapped. “I was happy to find
you but then you...kissed her...” I breathe.

“And then what happened?” he growls deep and low.

“I went back to my room,” I answer. He leans in closer to my
face.

“And then...” he whispers.

“You came to me,” I breathe back.

“I came...to you,” he parrots.

“But you didn't wake me. You didn't stay. I don't understand
why you’re doing this...I just wanted to talk to you, to figure things out,” I
ramble, trying to avoid his eyes.

Tilting his head left, he brings his lips to my ear. “You
hurt me.” His voice is so quiet I almost think I misheard but I didn't. His
lips graze my ear in the process, making my body tingle and tremble
simultaneously.

“I know,” I answer. Dom straightens suddenly and holds his
elbow out to me.

“We need to network,” he says out of nowhere. His face is
smooth and masked. I ignore his elbow, choosing to walk next to him unescorted
instead. Before I look away I notice his hands ball into fists at my blatant
disregard to social graces.

Following dinner we’re joined by Crash the Ball attendees,
and are treated to a sea of desserts created by James Beard, and some nominated
pastry chef Hedy Goldsmith. Guests dance under the stars to The Steve Chase
Society, followed by DJ sets while the band breaks. I allow Dom to dance with
me twice and if I’m honest I missed the feel of his arms swaying us so
gracefully. A few men come to chat with him during the Crash the Ball portion
of the evening and two of them ask if I’d like to dance. It’s impolite to not
consult your date before answering but I don’t hesitate, saying yes to any of
them, and I can see Dom’s black eyes shooting daggers at me while I’m led
around the dance floor by other men, and I know he hates it. You can almost see
the steam billowing from his ears.

“Who’s playing games now?” he grinds out when I’m escorted
back to him.

“I came here to talk to you. Honestly. You’ve upset me,
avoided me, and taken advantage of me in the span of two days. I’m not playing
games now, I’m just trying to make the most of this heinously boring evening,” I
answer flippantly. It’s well after midnight, my feet hurt and I’m tired. All I
want to do is go home and sleep. Maybe tomorrow I’ll fly to New Orleans and
finish my week out there. Clearly Dominic Napoli is a burned bridge. A bridge
that I set fire to. Tears prick the back of my eyes and my heart feels like
it’s cracking at the epiphany.

“I’d like to leave,” I say, trying to keep my voice from
cracking. Dom stares at the dancing couples on the dance floor and says
nothing. Sighing, I stand to leave, tucking my clutch under my arm. I lean down
and place a chaste kiss on Dom’s cheek. “Goodnight,” I say softly. He makes no
move to stand, escort me out, or even meet my eyes, so I turn and leave, alone.

Outside I wave the driver off and start walking the three
miles back to the hotel. About a mile and a half into my walk it starts
raining. Just great. The bleak weather seems fitting for my mindset and as the
raindrops stream down my face I let silent tears accompany them. What was I
thinking coming here? Of course Dominic would be mean and completely over me.
Thoughts of Sawyer sitting at home with Allie assault me. I knew that our relationship
would fizzle out just the same as it had before but I thought that being
friends would be enough for me in the end. It’s not, and now I don't know what
the hell to do. And Dominic...ugh. That relationship fizzled out before it even
had a chance to start, really. I’ve made such a mess of everything and there’s
no way to fix it now. I arrive in my room drenched. The gown is ruined and my
face is streaked with make-up.

My eyes are red-rimmed and puffy from crying and basically I
look as good as I feel. I let the gown drop to the bathroom floor, toe off my
boots and crawl into bed wearing the ridiculous lingerie Dom provided me. I
drift off wondering if Allie would like Santa Fe because I know when I get home
Sawyer and I are done. We haven't lived there yet and it’s warm and sunny most
of the time. I’d probably really like it there.

A pounding at the door startles me awake. Silence. Maybe I
dreamed it. I close my eyes and the pounding starts again. I jump out of bed
and look through the peephole before answering. Dominic sways in the hallway on
the other side of the door. I twist around to the clock: three-thirty a.m. I
suck in a deep breath, slide the chain lock open, and open the door just as Dom
goes to pound on it again. His fist crashes into my forehead sending me
tumbling backwards onto my ass as he stumbles through the doorway.

“Shit. Arrruok?” he slurs crouching down next to me. I groan
my response still clutching my head. Damn that hurt. He pulls my hand away and
grimaces. He didn't really clock me hard enough to leave a bruise and I didn't
feel a bump so it must just be my puffy, tear-streaked face that’s making him
cringe.

“What the shit, Dom!” I shout up at him while pushing myself
to a seated position.

“I didn't mean to,” he sniggers.

“What’s so funny?”

“Yuurrr outfit. Werrruu expectinmee?” He is definitely
drunk. He reaches out and touches the swell of my breast. Slapping his hand
away I jump to my feet and move towards the bed.

“No,” I snip. “What are you doing here?”

“I need you,” he snivels.

“Please stop torturing me. Just go home, Dom,” I crow,
mustering all the backbone I have left.

“No. Clara, I actually need you,” he groans and collapses to
his back on the floor.

“For what?” I snap.

“Meeting...torrow....you impresss....” he trails off. I wait
for him to finish but he doesn't.

“Dom?” I call. Nothing. I nudge him with my foot. “DOM!” I
shout. Nope, nothing. He’s passed out on my hotel room floor.

Great. Just fucking great. I grab the extra light blanket
from the shelf near the door and spread it over him after removing his shoes.
Slipping a pillow under his head I smooth his thick black hair away from his
face. He looks peaceful and more like his age when he sleeps. Vulnerable. His
breathing is unsteady and shallow. He’s going to feel like crap tomorrow. What
a goddamned shit show. Shaking my head, I crawl into bed and let the sound of
his erratic breathing lull me back to sleep.

Favors

Slowly I ease myself off the bed, not wanting to wake Dom.
At some point in the night he must have crawled in next to me. He’s facing away
from me and we aren't touching, but I don't trust myself or him not to try
anything if we wake up together in bed, so I silently tiptoe to the bathroom to
brush my teeth and run a brush through my hair, before heading downstairs to
get two coffees. I leave a glass of water and some Advil on the nightstand next
to his sleeping form and head out.

There is a key card, not mine, lying on the floor next to my
room door. That makes sense for how he got in the other night I guess. How he
got a spare key I still don't know. I had been smart last night though and
chained the door so even if he unlocked it he wouldn't have been able to open
it more than an inch or so. Carefully balancing the coffees in one hand I slide
the card in the door and wait for the green light and tell-tale click before
pushing the handle down and using my hip to bump the door open. Dom is sitting
up in bed waiting for me. He looks like death. Serves him right.

“Uh. Morning. Coffee?” I offer quietly.

“Thanks.” His extended hand grips the cup, taking it from
me. Choosing to avoid the bed I sit in the desk chair near the window.

“Clara.” His voice is full of remorse. “I’m sorry about last
night. I don't usually lose control like that.”

“So, what did you need Dom...you conveniently passed out
before you could tell me,” I divert our conversation. He stares at me for a
long moment before speaking.

“Thad Holder requested you. I need this merger to happen
between our hotels. You danced with him. He said he would gladly discuss our
transaction over lunch if you were present.” His tone is flat. It’s almost as
if he’s annoyed by the fact that he’s asking me for something. I know my answer
should be no but I want to spend time with him even after his asshole behavior last
night.

“I must be a glutton for punishment,” I say. His head snaps
up and he suddenly looks like a puppy waiting for a treat. “I'll go,” I add.

“We should go shopping then,” he states firmly. I bristle at
the thought and shoot my best death glare at him.

“No, if you want me in your world you have to take me as I
am. I’ll curb my filthy mouth but other than that I'm going to be me,” I push.

“I’ll take you anyway you are, Clara. I never wanted to
change you,” he whispers. Sniggering, I can’t help but think that's a lie.
“Bullshit. Dom. When we’re with your people you expect me to dress the part and
act the part, you buy the clothes you deem appropriate, not what I would
choose. You’ve never even let me shop for them. Besides that, I’m only to refer
to you as Dominic because God forbid I call you Dom and someone takes that as a
sign of weakness or something.” My voice drips with venom as I finish my spiel.
Something sparks in his eyes but quickly disappears.

“Very well. Lunch is at the Yacht Club,” he answers. I’m
slightly disappointed at his indifference to my accusations.

“Are you going to ask why I came? Why I’m here? Or do you
really not care?” I spout out.

“I’m curious, yes, but I can’t care until you trust me,” he
retorts, and suddenly the air feels like it’s been sucked from my lungs. Trust
is elusive, at least in my experience.

“Trust hasn't gotten me far in the past,” I admit. His face
goes soft with compassion for me.

“Tell me what happened, Clara.”

“I can’t,” I clip.

“Why not?” he asks, frustrated.

“Because I don't talk about my past. Ever,” I crow,
irritated. “Why can't you just accept that?!”

“Because I want you!” he bellows. “I want you but obviously
there’s more to the story than you just not liking the limelight or wealth. You
were scared shitless at the wedding. I want to know why. What if I can help?
You have to let me in, you have to trust me!” he roars with irritation.

“You can't, Dom. You can't help, you can't change it. It is
what it is and I’m okay with it. I’ve been okay with it...until you,” I admit.

“Why’d you come back then?”

“I...I needed to know for certain. I missed you. I dream
about you. I’m miserable with Sawyer and I needed to know if we could be
something,” I say honestly. For once.

“Something in your world, right? We date, we fall in love,
but you stay conveniently out of my social circle? Is that it?” he bites out.

“I don't know. Yes! I guess that's exactly it. I want you,” I
stammer. He slinks off the bed and strides to where I sit. Taking my face
between his hands he kneels in front of me. Heat, passion, and hurt swirl in
his eyes. “Will you give me a chance to actually be in your life this time?” he
murmurs as I try to ignore his breath hitting my mouth, warm and coffee-scented.

“Yes,” I breathe. Smiling, he leans in and captures my lips
with his. It’s a sweet, gentle kiss. Pulling me even closer so our bodies are
pressed against each other, his hands keep my face anchored in place as he
kisses me passionately. I never want this kiss to end. Ever. As soon as the
thought enters my mind he pulls away, grinning. “When do you leave?” he asks as
the pads of his thumbs stroke my cheeks lovingly. It feels nice, right.

“Wednesday morning,” I mumble still slightly delirious from
his kiss.

“Good. I’ll clear my schedule Monday and Tuesday. I want to
show you something.” He smiles warmly at me.

“Ah. Okay,” I answer nervously.

“Calm down, Clara, you’ll like this,” he promises before
standing and making his way to the bathroom. He stops in the door frame and
looks me up and down. “Care to join me?” His voice is husky and low. Oh man,
I’m a goner. I stand, saunter to him, and let him tug me into the bathroom with
him to shower.

I pull the chain over my head and let the butterfly pendant
rest at the swell of my breasts. It sparkles against the emerald green
off-the-shoulder shirt I’m wearing. I shimmy into white capri pants, tousle my
hair, and slip into my favorite three-inch strappy heels. A low whistle rings
out through the room as I exit the bathroom.

“You look stunning,” Dom praises.

“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself,” I wink after admiring
his business casual attire. His khakis hang on him perfectly and he’s wearing a
crisp, white button down shirt with the top two buttons undone. I chuckle to
myself, he almost looks relaxed. Then I wonder if he truly is ever relaxed and
that makes me wonder if he can ever just let loose and be himself. I shake all
my ridiculous thoughts away as he kisses me behind my ear and ushers us out of
my room.

The dining room at the club is large. One wall consists
solely of glass doors that are all open, letting the ocean breeze blow in. Dom
walks us past a series of large open flame fire pits on the way to our table. Thad
stands when we arrive and pulls out my chair for me.

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Holder,” I smile at him.

“Clara! My breath of fresh air,” he exclaims as he and Dom
sit. I stare at him questioningly. “My dear, do you have any idea how wonderful
it is to see a purple-haired, tattooed woman wandering around an event looking
stunning these days?” he winks.

“Ah. I suppose it doesn't happen often.”

He snorts at my answer.

“Never is more like it. Dominic here is a lucky man. You
carry yourself like a lady but have attitude and spunk. I like it. I quite
enjoyed our dance. What better way to liven up a boring business lunch than
have you here.” He laughs and pats my hand.

“I’m honored. That’s quite the compliment,” I chuckle. This
guy is a hoot. We chat companionably while ordering and waiting for our food to
arrive. Once lunch arrives the chatter dulls as we begin to eat. The sandwich I
ordered is heavenly but thick. After chewing one bite for what feels like an
eternity I finally manage to swallow the thick bread. I take a sip of my water
to help wash it down.

“Thad, I need this merger to happen. I’m willing to buy out
your hotels at above market value,” Dom pushes. He’s so domineering and
straightforward when he talks business. It’s a total turn-on to watch.

“What exactly is above market value, Dominic?”

“Seventy-five million,” he says firmly and I nearly choke on
my water. Grabbing my napkin, I cover my mouth as I sputter and cough.

“Clara, dear, are you all right?” Thad asks, concerned.
Dom’s hand shoots out and tucks a stray hair behind my ear and lifts my chin
with his finger to meet his eyes.

“Clara?” he says softly.

“Sorry. Excuse me. Wrong pipe,” I wheeze out with a smile.
“How many hotels do you have, Mr. Holder?” I ask trying to draw the attention
back to the conversation at hand.

“Thad, please. I own three luxury hotels, not a chain. Each
one is vastly different from the next but they all define luxury,” he states
proudly.

“Why are you selling?” I inquire. I ignore the hard look Dom
shoots at me.

“Not that you would know, my dear, but even just three
hotels take an obscene amount of time to run and run smoothly.” He glances to
Dom. “I don't know how Dominic does it, overseeing more than four hundred
hotels. It’s a wonder he has any downtime at all.”

“I have people to help with that. The clubs are where I put
most of my time in,” he answers casually.

“So you’re retiring?” I ask Thad.

“No. Merely taking a breather before my next big adventure,”
he laughs.

“Wow. Sounds exciting.”

“Dominic, why don't you whisk her away for a stay at one of
the hotels?” He winks at me. God, this man needs to stop winking. He’d be a
pretty interesting guy if it wasn't for that unusual winking tick he seems to
have.

“I’m not sure Clara’s the type who wants to be whisked away,”
Dom says and raises an eyebrow at me playfully.

“I work. A lot. But occasionally I enjoy a nice vacation,” I
answer.

“What is that you do?” Thad asks.

“I own a tattoo parlor, I’m a tattoo artist.” There it is,
out in the open in Dom’s world. I wait for his death glare to come but it
doesn't. He looks maybe even proud. The clap of Thad’s hands brings me out of
my thoughts.

“That’s wonderful! How interesting,” he excites.

“Thank you,” I mumble. The men continue on with their
negotiations until almost two in the afternoon.

“I’ll talk to Charlie and get back to you. Speaking of
Charlie, has the rumor mill reached you yet?” Thad asks Dom and I’m instantly
intrigued.

“No, what is it this time?” His eyes dart to me nervously
but I can’t imagine why. I don't know who they’re talking about.

“Well if anyone knows how to land in the center of
attention, the Hollingsworth’s are it. People are saying that Daniel saw the
family ring-pawning tart at some wedding. You know...the ex-fiancée that
disappeared years ago. Charlie is up in arms about it, demanding that Daniel
find her and the ring.” Thad sets his napkin on the table as my blood runs
cold. I struggle to keep my breathing even and calm. “It caused quite a stir.
Alexandria was completely bent out of shape that the little tart stole her
moment in the spotlight and ruined her wedding.” He laughs and shakes his head.
Dom’s hand rests on my thigh under the table and squeezes. I sit stone-still,
willing my body to disappear into the scenery. I can actually feel myself
paling as they keep talking. Ruined her wedding? Please. As if. But
Charlie...why would he be all over Daniel about me?

“I was at that wedding. Alexandria married my cousin. I
didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Maybe Daniel is just trying to gain
his father's attention. You know that one... always causing trouble. The
senator would rather adopt a new child than leave his empire to his only son.” Dom’s
tone has a biting edge to it.

“Truer words have never been spoken. If Charlie was smart he
would have knocked up one of his concubines and brought that child into the
fold years ago.” Both men laugh wildly at Thad’s joke as I push the bile rising
in my throat back down. Charlie hates Daniel? When did that happen? He was
being groomed to replace his father his whole life. Would Charlie really accept
a bastard child to replace Daniel? My mind whirls with questions and I feel light-headed
and dizzy. Thad’s hand clamps on my shoulder and I jump slightly.

“It was lovely seeing you. Thank you for brightening this
boring old man’s lunch.” He picks up my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist
lightly. It’s an overtly intimate gesture and I can hear Dominic’s low growl as
he takes it all in.

“Dominic. Always a pleasure. I’ll be in touch.” He shakes
Dom’s hand and gracefully walks out of the dining room.

“I’m sorry, Clara,” he offers and stands, pulling out my
chair for me.

“What does Charlie have to do with Thad?” I ask, still
stunned from information overload.

“Charlie backed the hotels when Thad started them. Before he
sells he’ll want to talk to Charlie about who’s buying them. Charlie will want
to be sure that he’s not losing his investment,” he states plainly.

“Oh,” I breathe. “Let’s get out of here.” Dom nods and
escorts me back to his car.

The ride back to the hotel is silent. I can’t get their
conversation out of my head. Charlie hates Daniel. Daniel must be desperate to
get back in the good graces of his father. At least the Daniel I knew a decade
ago would be. Dom drops me at the hotel, telling me he has things to wrap up
today so that he can spend the next two days with me.

“I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning,” he says and
brushes a kiss on my temple that sends electricity shooting through my body.

“Huh?” I ask distractedly.

“Clara, where are you?” He hooks my chin with his fingers, maneuvering
my face to his.

“Sorry. What time tomorrow?”

“Nine and please, ignore all the talk about the
Hollingsworths,” he says pointedly.