Serving HIM Box Set (57 page)

He hung up a few minutes later and wrapped both arms around me. As he rested his chin on my shoulder, he answered my unasked question. “I want you there tomorrow.”

“I'll be there,” I promised. I felt some of the tension ease from his body.

After a moment, he spoke again, “I don’t think my mother knew—Jacqueline, I mean.”

“She is your mother.” I didn’t let the personal dislike of the woman show in my voice. She might be an ice-edged bitch, but she did love her son. She’d stood by him when others hadn’t and she done what she could to make him safe, to make him feel safe after a terrible trauma. For that, I could put up with a lot of shit from her. “Whether she gave birth to you or not, she’s loved you as her son for almost three decades, Dominic.”

“I know.” He kissed my shoulder. “I don’t think she knew. She’s manipulative. She can be cruel. She’s very self-centered. But she’s not self-destructive and while she’s too caught up in her own worldview to see outside of it, she wouldn’t be deliberately cruel, not like that.”

I knew where he was going with this. “You don’t think she could be party to stealing a child from his parents.”

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he asked, “Am I being naïve?”

“No.” I turned my face to his. He was so close, I could kiss him. So I did. “I think you’re being a son.”

***

Stanley Kowalski looked like the former cop Dominic had said he was. He had a thin, intelligent face and dark, shrewd eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. I liked him almost immediately. He sat across from me and carefully selected a canapé from the tray Francisco had put together.

The chef had graciously agreed to come in and help put together some light fare for the evening. I’d told him I’d love him forever and he had laughed, told me that I already did. He wasn’t wrong. The man was quickly becoming one of my favorite people.

“Is this something that’s going to make me nauseated if I find out what’s inside?” Kowalski asked, studying the colorful bit of food he held.

“It’s cream cheese and shrimp.” I grinned at him. “On a cracker. There’s a fancier name for it, but that’s basically all it is.”

“Okay.” He popped it into his mouth. “Good. Fancy name or no.”

I laughed and gestured toward the tray. “I’m not much for goose liver or anything like that, so if I’m eating it, I try to make sure it’s nothing revolting.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Kowalski selected another as Dominic moved to join us.

“She’s my heart, so you’ll have to find your own.” He sat down next to me and took my hand.

For a moment, I was too flustered to breathe. He’d made statements to me about how much he cared about me, but he'd never said anything so casually, as if such a declaration was common knowledge.

I shot him a look, but he was studying Kowalski, completely unaware he’d just shaken the bedrock of my world. My hand shook as I reached for my wine and took a sip.

“I heard you got a hold of a name,” Kowalski said.

Dominic nodded and passed over the sheet of paper. It was looking ragged, as though he’d handled it a great deal since yesterday.

The investigator read the name, lips pursed. It seemed to me that he took a lot of time reading that one, single name. Like he read it maybe five times over—or five hundred times. Finally, after what seemed like several minutes, he folded the slip of paper and held it up for Dominic’s perusal. “May I keep this?”

Dominic shrugged.

He nodded and tucked it inside his jacket. “Does that man's name mean anything to you?”

“No.” Dominic shook his head.

I leaned forward, drawing the investigator’s gaze my way. “Should it?”

He shifted his attention to me, those shrewd, professor’s eyes landing on my face with interest. “Well, that would depend.” He spread his hands wide and said, “It’s been a long time. News didn’t travel then the way it did now, but people in certain areas heard.”

“Heard what?”

We both spoke at the same time, leaning forward.

Kowalski pondered his response, appearing to give it a great deal of thought. Then, softly, he said, “There was a series of reports some years back. I’d just gotten my detective’s shield, was working in vice. So I didn’t hear everything. But it was a big scandal. Some twenty, twenty-five years ago. It all started with a woman. I’d have to look up her name, track down the cops involved…but she claimed she’d been pregnant, that she’d heard the baby crying. Then her mother told her the baby was born dead. She doesn’t remember the next few days, says she thought she was drugged. She woke up in her parent’s private villa in Italy. Took her two months to get back home.” He paused, shook his head. “Big scandal. She went to the cops, fussed something awful because nobody believed her.”

“Believed
what
?”

Kowalski smiled, but it was a tight smile. “That she believed her baby had been stolen. There was enough suspicion though, on the police department’s side that they investigated…and a whole house of cards came tumbling down. They never could find the head man.” He leaned forward, his eyes pinning Dominic. “Can you guess his name?”

Chapter 6

Aleena

Dominic's face was grim as he made his way through the kitchen and I could see him struggling with the news he'd gotten last night. It was in the way he focused on his coffee, his bagel, on anything and everything but me.

He wasn’t trying to ignore me, I knew, but he was upset and when he was like that, he got restless. He paced as he ate, constantly moving and not talking. Not even looking at me.

I knew it was how he coped with things, but I still wished he wouldn’t do that. I wanted him to let me in, to let me help him. Those were the kinds of things that we were still working on though and, for the moment, all I could do was be patient.

Still, there were things we needed to discuss that had nothing to do with Kowalski's news.

“I’m finalizing the plans with Annette for the house,” I said, breaking the silence.

He nodded. “I saw them.” Finally, a partial smile, albeit an absent one. “You put color in there, Aleena.”

“Do you have a problem with color?” I asked mildly.

His head jerked around to look at me, his eyes wide. “I didn't mean—”

I laughed. “I know you didn't. I just wanted to see if I could get your attention.”

His eyes narrowed, but there was humor in them now. I felt some of the tension in my shoulders ease.

“You always have my attention.” He took a step towards me. “Even if it doesn't seem like it, you're never far from my mind.”

I shivered, then swallowed hard. I needed to get the conversation back on track before we ended up in the bedroom. Not that I didn't want that, but we needed to talk about the house. “Do you like it? The plans for the house, I mean.”

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly as though he hadn’t given it much thought. “Actually, I do. I think I like it quite a bit.”

“Good. I'll tell Annette to go ahead with it.”

The silence came back, but it was less tense. After a few minutes, he sat down and I breathed an internal sigh of relief.

He gave me a thoughtful look over his coffee. “I looked at my schedule this morning.”

I choked on my coffee. I coughed, grabbing a napkin to keep from dribbling coffee onto my good blouse. Eyes watering, I stared at him as I tried to restore the flow of oxygen to my brain. I tried to speak, but could only manage a croaking sound. I shook my head and grabbed my water, downing half of it. Dominic was watching me, the look on his face torn between amusement and concern.

Once I could breathe again, I managed to get out actual words. “I’m sorry. I could have sworn you said that you looked at your schedule.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Very funny. I do know how to look at it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, opened them, then did it again, playing it up in the hopes of keeping the good mood, even if it was at my own expense. “I wonder if pinching myself might work.” Leaning forward, I stared at him hard and asked, “Who
are
you?”

His lips curved into that wicked grin that had my stomach, and other lower places, tightening.

“You keep that up and I won’t tell you about the plans I had for tonight.”

The low, smoky sound of his voice immediately erased any humor I felt. “Plans?”

“Yes.” He lowered his coffee and braced his elbows on the surface of the table. “I made plans. Which would explain why I’d checked my schedule.”

He cocked a brow, all but daring me to comment.

I held up a hand. “I’m all ears, Dominic.”

“I was thinking we could go out tonight. For a short time, at least.” He lifted a shoulder lazily, adjusted the shining cufflinks and glanced at the clock. “We have the interview with that magazine…” He paused, a distracted look on his face.

I supplied the name of the magazine and he nodded.

Come on, come on…

He seemed to sense my impatience and I could all but
see
him dragging it out…check the cufflinks again…smooth down the drape of his shirt. Finally, he leaned back. “Would you like to go to Olympus tonight?”

My breath lodged in my lungs, super heating until it took everything I had just to keep my breathing normal. Curling my hands around the edge of the table that sat between us, I swallowed.

“Sure.”

He could have been asking me out for coffee, a latte, a quick bite to eat at the corner deli.

But Olympus was a lot more than that. A
lot
more.

Casually, I reached for one of the bagels. I needed to do something. As I smeared cream cheese across it, I asked, “What should I wear?”

“That’s up to you.” He pushed back from the table. “Some people wear club clothes. Others are comfortable in jeans.”

I frowned. “I doubt I’d be comfortable in either. So…it’s basically whatever works for me, huh?”

“Yes.” He came around to stand behind me, stroked a hand down my hair. He kissed my shoulder and then, quick as that, he was gone.

***

There were times when having an expanded bank account came in handy. Even with the extra money, for the most part, I'd stuck to the same sort of clothing styles I’d always worn, even if I did scale it up a little bit now and then. That didn’t, however, include the business attire I had to wear for work. That was a different thing entirely and I had to accept that old adage that clothes made the man. Or, in my case, the woman.

But this wasn’t a business thing. This was a
me
thing.

And I wasn't going to make it about labels. I wanted it to be about style, and for me, that meant one-of-a kind designs. I didn’t really have the finances that allowed for shopping like this on a regular basis, but I did have enough to indulge for special occasions and if a trip to Olympus didn't qualify, then what did?

I rushed through everything I needed to do, getting it all done by one. I’d skipped lunch and had one of Dominic's drivers meet me at the door. I used them because Dominic wanted me to, but I refused to think of them as anything other than Dominic's drivers.

As I walked out, I was ready, credit card in hand and determined to find something that would absolutely blow Dominic’s mind. I wanted to put a crack in his cool public demeanor. More than that though, I wanted to make him think about nothing but me for the night, wanted to make it so that the first thing he thought of when he needed release was me and not that damn club. And I wanted him to stop worrying about the investigation and what Kowalski might unearth, and what his mother had told him and all the ugliness we were going to find.

I knew we would find it too. Whenever I thought about it, my gut twisted with anxiety.

But tonight wasn’t about that.

Tonight was just for us.

“Here you go, Miss Aleena.”

I glanced out the window as Vincent came to a stop. He was Dominic's secondary driver, trading off with Maxwell, the driver who'd been with Dominic since childhood. I liked both men equally, though I'd always gotten the impression that Maxwell was a bit overprotective of Dominic. I was fine with that though. As much as he took care of everyone else, Dominic needed someone to look out for him.

Biting my lip, I glanced up toward the rearview mirror to see Vincent smiling at me. He was younger than Maxwell, but still a good decade older than Dominic.

“Ah…are you sure they aren’t going to throw me out?”

He chuckled, his eyes shining and, a moment later, he was opening the door.

“You’re Mr. Snow’s lady. That’s all you need to remember,” he said, smiling at me. Then he gestured to the doors. “I called ahead. Spoke with the owner. She’s already expecting you.”

Mr. Snow’s lady.

The words made me smile, blush. They also managed to steel my spine and I drew my shoulders back as I strode toward the doors. We were in an upscale area of Manhattan. Even the traffic seemed muted there and before I was within a couple feet of the door, someone was already rushing to open the door for me.

Within the first five minutes, I had a good idea how Cinderella must have felt when her fairy godmother showed up.

I had people rushing around me, bringing out dresses that ranged from the lewd to the lovely. I wanted something in between and while I had a hard time articulating that, the saleslady—a sweet-faced woman by the name of Jeanette—had no such problem. She stood there as I went through one dress after another, tapping her candy apple red lips and then smiled, waving everybody away.

“I saw the two of you,” she said, her accent clearly French. “You and Dominic Snow at a party for his match-making business. You are…” She pursed her lips as she seemed to struggle for the word. “Hmmm. You are proper.”

I frowned.

She laughed and waved a hand. “I may not have the good words, but you will see. You wait here.”

She disappeared into the back of her store and emerged nearly twenty minutes later with two pieces of clothing in her hands. One was a black and white striped skirt, which I was ready to veto straightaway. The other was a simple, black top, strappy things falling from the top. No way. I'd look like a damned clown.

She saw the look on my face and waved aside the protests forming on my lips. “Hush!” Her brows lowered over her eyes as I opened my mouth again. “I say,
hush
! I know clothes.”