My lips roll inward as I try to school my features into an expression of understanding I don’t feel. I want to give Kristen the benefit of the doubt, because I can’t imagine the stress she’s under as a defense attorney. My dad just handles real estate law, and he’s got high blood pressure directly related to his job, so I believe dealing with high-profile cases where people’s lives are on the line can take its toll on you.
But I find it hard to believe Dominic is the only person in her life who can understand what she’s going through. I mean, she must have friends from work, family members, or a therapist she can call on Saturday night when she’s having a breakdown.
And who’s sitting around thinking about work on a Saturday night?Not anyone I know.
I study Dominic as he takes a sip of water and fight the urge to tell him his ex-girlfriend is full of shit. She might be stressed at work, but that doesn’t have anything to do with the back-to-back calls to his phone on a Saturday evening when most single, attractive men are either out on a date or preparing to go out and find someone to spend the rest of their night with.
It kind of feels like she’s determined to get in the way of him moving on, and I can’t help but wonder if she was the one calling him back-to-back that night at Club Noir. Judging by her behavior tonight, that seems extremely likely.
“It’s nice of you to be there for her,” I say before taking a sip of my wine to wash away the bitter taste of the lie.
Dominic’s eyes burn into mine as he cuts into his steak. “You don’t mean that.”
What’s the point of lying when the man sees right through me?
“No.” I bite my lip and hold his eyes. “I don’t.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. “You never told me what you need from me, angel. We’re not leaving this rooftop until we both lay out what we need to make this relationship work.”
I blink, confused at the sudden change in direction. Dominic takes a bite of his steak and lifts a brow as he chews. He wants me to go first, but I don’t know why. He was the one who wanted to use this dinner to tell me his rules.
I smooth my hands over my skirt. “I only have one thing I need, but judging by your reaction when I brought it up earlier, you’re not going to like it.”
He continues eating, but I’m suddenly too nervous to take a single bite of my food. Instead, I sip on my wine and try not to squirm under the weight of his silence. Finally, he swallows. The motion causes his Adam’s apple to bob.Damn, he even makes eating sexy.
“You want to put an expiration date on us.” Emotion flares behind his eyes before fading into unforgiving obsidian. “Tell me why.”
I push the greens in my salad around. “Well, I don’t know how long it’ll take to solve my, uh…problem, but I’m sure you don’t want to be tied up in this—”
“Don’t make this about me, Sloane, and don’t lie.”
“I’m not lying, Dominic.”
“Yes, you are.” His jaw tenses. “Now tell me the real reason.”
I set my fork down and sigh. “Because the longer this goes on, the more likely it is that Mal or Mama will find out, and I don’t think my relationship with either of them would survive that. They’ll hate me, Dominic, and I can’t lose them.”
Several seconds tick by, and I watch Dominic weigh my words, turning them over in his head with careful consideration. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for him to say something, hoping he’ll agree to the only condition I have, because if he doesn’t, I don’t know what I’m going to do.
You’re going to walk away,the voice in my head sneers, and I hate to admit it, but it’s right. If Dominic can’t agree to this, then I’m going to have to walk away from him.
Even if the thought threatens to destroy my already shattered heart.
Chapter 21
Dominic
Now
I’m becoming too familiar with the way Sloane’s forehead creases and her beautiful hazel eyes widen when panic is coursing through her veins. It’s a look I’ve seen more than I’d like to admit over the past few weeks: when that bastard had his hands on her in the club, when I walked in on James kissing her, when I burst into the women’s bathroom last night and scared the shit out of her, this morning when Mal showed up at her house, and right now when she’s waiting on me to respond to her suggestion that we put an end date on us.
Every cell in my body is screaming at me to shut the idea down. To lean over the table and tell her in no uncertain terms that she is mine. I’ve waited twelve fucking years to have her, and now she wants me to agree to what? A few weeks or months in her bed?
My hand clenches into a fist at the thought of getting so little of her even as I admit to myself that her reasons are valid. I know how much herrelationship with Mal and Mama means to her. They’re her family, and I can’t say with any kind of certainty they won’t react exactly the way she thinks they will if they find out about us.
But damn if this isn’t unfair. Twelve years of waiting just to be given…
“How long?”
