The drive to my house was quiet as I wondered what this was between us and where it was going. Were we dating? Good friends? When had he transitioned from the mysterious security guy I never saw at work to taking me out to a drink and holding my hand? I was no closer to answers when he walked me to my door and said a hurried goodbye before jogging back to his car. I waved goodbye and stepped into the house, strangely disappointed that he hadn’t kissed me.
***
The rest of the week passed in a blur. Dominico picked me up and dropped me off after every shift. He was always polite—holding doors and making sure I got in okay—but something had changed between us. He didn’t really look at me, didn’t invite me out for another drink, and he seemed to go out of his way to avoid touching me. With each passing day he seemed more distracted and worried. I still hadn’t seen him around the restaurant during my shift, so I had no clue what his duties included, but they were clearly weighing on him. By the time he picked me up for my closing shift Friday afternoon, he looked strung out.
“You okay?” I asked as he walked me to his car.
“Yeah.” He raked a hand though his dark hair, looking up and down the street. Vigilant security guard, constantly watching for threats. “I just got a lot going on right now.”
As we drew closer to the engagement dinner, everyone at the restaurant was on edge. Despite the many times I’d asked, nobody would give away the names of the couple who’d rented out the entire restaurant for a night. The last time I asked, Frank glared at me and Brandon pulled me aside and suggested I let it go. Which, of course, only made me want to know more. I’d gone so far as reading gossip magazines to see if I could figure out which couple the restaurant could be hosting. Maybe a movie star or a local celebrity? And why was everyone being so tight-lipped about it?
Dominico was security. Not only security, but probably some sort of management to be in on the interviews. He’d have to know who was coming. I climbed into his Porshe and buckled my seatbelt.
“Must be some high-profile couple to have everyone so worked up about their engagement dinner,” I said, fishing for information as Dominico settled himself behind the wheel.
He frowned and started his car.
He wasn’t going to answer me either. Frustrated, I said, “Oh come on, just tell me who it is already.”
He still didn’t answer.
“Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll guess. Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown? I read that they’re gonna tie the knot this year, and it would be so cool to cook for their party.”
“It’s not Whitney and Bobbie.” His frown deepened. “Nobody that well-known. In fact, it’s not nearly as big of a deal as everyone’s making it out to be. You’ve never heard of the couple. If I told you who they were, you’d be disappointed.”
Doubtful with all the hoopla going on. He had to be trying to pacify me. “Oh come on, give me a hint. Is it… a senator or something?”
“Nope.”
“Then why all the secrecy?” I asked.
He shrugged. “The family of the bride has… enemies. They asked us to keep a lid on the party.”
“Enemies?” I let the word sit between us for a moment, wondering what sort of family would have enemies. It had to be a politician, whichwasdisappointing. A singer or an actor would have been much more exciting. Still, enemies… “Will we be in danger?”
“No.” Dominico released the gear shift to squeeze my hand. It was the first time he’d touched me since the night we went out for drinks, and my stupid stomach fluttered at the contact. He looked at me, and something in his eyes softened. “Mike and I are very good at what we do. We won’t let anyone hurt you.”
I blinked, and his gaze drifted back to the road. He withdrew his hand to shift again, and I immediately missed his touch. He left his free hand on the gearshift and did not reach for me again. He’d been so distant lately. I opened my mouth to ask him why, and then snapped it shut. We’d gone out for a drink, but Dominico must have friend-zoned me. No biggie. We’d only known each other for a short time. Not like I’d fallen for the guy or anything. So why did my chest feel so tight? Confused and hurt, I stared out the window for the rest of the drive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Annetta
“THERE IS NOTHING to tell,” I said for the umpteenth time, rolling my eyes.
Adona Micheli, my best friend since first grade who was finally home from her family vacation, sat cross-legged on my bed, bugging me for details about my non-existent relationship with Dominico, while I got ready for work.
“Thereissomething,” she insisted. “You said he took you out for drinks… and then nothing? Come on! No good night kiss? No promise to see you again? Nothing?”
“I told you, it was friendly. We’d both had a rough day, and he took me out for a drink as a nice gesture. I’ve seen him since. He’s still picking me up and dropping me off every day.”
Her eyebrows crept up her forehead. “But you’re saying he’s not interested in you?”
After last night I was certain of it, unfortunately. “Not in the least.” I plugged my curling iron into the socket and set it on top of my dresser. Adona’s family was wealthy. She got to sit at a cute and functional well-lit vanity when she applied her makeup. I had a ratty old dresser with a mirror attached. I squinted and wished for better lighting as I brushed my lashes with mascara.
“I doubt it.” She pulled a small round packet out of her purse and set it on my dresser. “And you need to start taking these pills just in case.”
My best friend had been trying to give me birth control since we were sixteen. I’d never needed them before, and I was reasonably sure I still didn’t. Done with makeup and on to hair, I squirted a palm-sized amount of mousse into my hand and turned to frown at her. “I said nothing’s going on, Adona. Are you calling me a liar?”
