“Ginger!” Tears formed in my eyes.
My cat was sphinx-sitting on the armrest of an expensive leather couch when we walked in. She made a tiny meow, plopped on the floor, and trotted toward us. She rubbed herself on my leg and then did the same to Dom.
I was taken aback.
“Hey, girl.” Dom picked up Ginger and my cat lapped up the attention.
This was new. Even if Dom told me Ginger was living with him, it was still jarring to see how my cat let him pick her up. I mean, we’d been seeing each other for months, and other than Ginger knowing it was Dom who was buying her gourmet tuna, they kept their distance from each other. Like they tolerated each other for my sake. Now they were ganging up on me?
I narrowed my eyes. “Traitor.”
Dom scratched Ginger under her chin and my cat was actually purring. He angled toward me. “Now why don’t you give your momma attention? I have someplace to be.”
He handed Ginger to me, and I buried my nose in the furry ball of comfort. “She smells nice.” Her coat was shiny and soft, but there was a clean, almost soapy smell to her.
“Who gave her a bath?”
Ginger barely tolerated one. Occasionally when she’d get covered in grime and I didn’t want her licking it off and ingesting it, I’d run her a bath. The first time I did it, she nearly lacerated my wrists. But after she realized the benefit of getting clean, she’d let me do it.
“I did,” Dom muttered.
“Is he trying to take credit?” Lucy walked in. I’d only talked to Lucy over video chat, but the filter of the screen didn’t do justice to the beauty of Dom’s sister. I had seen her at the New Year’s Eve party, but with the lights and heavy makeup, I didn’t pay attention. This time it looked like she just finished working out. With the resurgent threat from the Russians, she’d been holed up again, and she’d been exercising to keep her sanity. A sheen of sweat dotted her forehead. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and it exposed her swan-like neck that only accentuated her features. Sharper features than the De Lucci side and I’d seen Carlotta enough to see the resemblance. Darker brows, darker eyes set against lashes so thick they seemed unreal. She had a warm skin tone as opposed to mine. Bianca once lamented that Lucy was the one in the family whose face was perfectly proportioned.
“You helped by calling Luca,” her brother grumbled.
“No luggage?” Lucy raised a brow.
“Didn’t I tell you to coordinate with Bianca and get Sloane’s stuff ready?”
“About that…”
I stiffened. I wasn’t attached to the things in my apartment. Bianca told me Dom had them packed up and put in storage after the police released the crime scene. I hoped my tall boots survived, though.
The two exchanged a look.
“What?”
“Bianca said they asked Al to get it and he got into an accident. The vehicle caught fire and exploded.”
“Oh my God, is Al all right?” I’d been around Al a lot whenever I did work for the Rossis. I’d even extracted a bullet out of him one time.
“He’s fine,” Lucy said. “He got out before the SUV exploded. He couldn’t salvage any of your stuff, though.” But there was a lack of sympathy in Lucy’s tone, and the silence from her brother made me suspicious.
Of course. I glared at Dom. “Is this staged again?”
He raised his arms in a gesture of innocence. “What? No. I’ve never had dealings with Al. I left instructions with Lucy. I would never burn your things.” He said it with a straight face, but his sister snorted a laugh.
I turned my glare on her. “I don’t know what your family is up to, but I own an expensive pair of boots. Maybe they weren’t there?”
“We could check…” Lucy hedged.
“I really need to change out of these clothes.” Exhaustion caught up with me. I walked farther into Dom’s penthouse. It was already evening, but the view of the Manhattan skyline in this expansive space made me feel small again. Like I didn’t belong. Old wounds started bleeding.
I lowered Ginger to the floor. And as if she were my guide, she ran to the tall windows.
“I don’t know if I can stay here.”
Dom’s presence warmed my back before he murmured in my ear, “Give it a few days.”
“I’ll see what I can rustle up,” Lucy called, but it was obvious her objective was to give Dom and me privacy.
I turned to face him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do. And why you’re forcing this. This is not me.”
“Why?”
“We don’t fit.”
“Because I have money.”
“Yes.”
“Bullshit. You think the De Luccis started as billionaires? We didn’t. Our ancestors worked the land. We were farmers who grew up smart about how to make money. This”—he waved his arm around the penthouse—“is something we worked for. And you’d be a hypocrite to say I earned it illegally because you made money off us, too. Because you know if you were a regular cleaner of office space or Park Avenue apartments, you wouldn’t be able to keep your brother in rehab.”
“You know nothing of my choices. What forced me to work for the mob!” I snapped.
“No? Then why don’t you tell me, because all this, Sloane, could be yours. It doesn’t have to be a barter between us. Sometimes lo—caring for someone depends on who needs it more. Like when you took care of me, and I took care of you. Wealth-wise, I have the money, but you have the ability to make me feel peace, make me want to have a future with you.”
“We agreed…” I broke off in a whisper.
Dom clenched his jaw. “I have a meeting tonight. I’ll know more about your situation…” He glanced in the direction where Lucy disappeared. “Everyone’s situation after I have it.”
“You’re meeting with Margo Winthrop?”
“Yes.”
“Shouldn’t I meet her too? Find out why she relocated me?”
“She wants to talk to me alone for now.” He exhaled a breath. “Lucy will take care of you.”
“I want to see Harriet.”
“Let me get a read of the situation first.”
I pursed my lips, wanting to say more, but I gave him a brief nod. I always fell back on practicality. I grew up detesting the entitlement of my mother’s former Park Avenue clients. I also learned work quality mattered, and that was why I charged outrageous fees for being a mob cleaner. Quality also included keeping mum about my criminal clients. There was a price tag attached to confidentiality and why my affair with Dom had repercussions.
We made this mess. He was offering to fix it. In helping me, he was also helping his sister.
I would be an idiot to make things difficult for him out of spite.
“Thank you.” He kissed the top of my head, and I stilled myself from recoiling. My reaction was disconcerting, but I couldn’t help it. Over the past few weeks, I’d built up a belief that Dom was all wrong for me. That hadn’t changed.
He must have sensed my body’s rejection because he stood back and a stab of guilt hit me at the defeat in his eyes.
“I’ll be at The Grindhouse after I’m done with the meeting.”
And I wasn’t going to argue with him about that anymore.
I had no problem staying at The Grindhouse third floor. Somehow, it was important to Dom that I stayed here instead.
So be it.
