I have to find him. I have to know.
I’m almost to the edge of the room when I stop in my tracks. There’s a lingering scent here. A familiar cologne that takes me back to the room in Club Empire. Woodsy and fresh, it grounds me.
And I know. . .
He’s here.My dom. The number one suspect in two murder cases.
I spin in a slow circle. Where is he?
I have a vision of him, a large shape moving through the crowds. His powerful presence makes people move out of his way. In a room full of important people, he rules supreme.
It’s the same presence that made me respond to him when we were alone in a private room at the club. The weight of his gaze, the overwhelming sense of him. His cologne mesmerized me, the scent following me home, hovering in my bedroom. Haunting me.
There. A dark-haired man, standing head and shoulders above the rest. Tall and solid, built like a warrior of old—the same size and shape as the blurred figure in the footage I was given. He has his back to me, but. . . could it be him? A bunch of people surround him, men in tuxedos and women in beautiful gowns with scarlet red lips. They all want his attention, but he’s aloof, untouched by their wit or gossip.
Or maybe I’m fooling myself. Maybe I’m going mad. My visions and instincts are a curse and a blessing, bringing me into a crime scene to relive the details. But I’ve never been so embroiled in a case before, the intimate details saturating my waking moments and my dreams. The mystery dom, whoever he is, has obliterated the lines between my work and real life. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in such close contact with a murderer. Not since that night in Elyria and the horrors that happened there.
“Detective Ramos,” someone calls. I’m half relieved to have a direction to turn, a touchstone to keep me grounded in the here and now. My relief turns to dread when I see Chief Jordan waving me over. Time to glad-hand with the brass and donors. My nerves are on fire, my skin crawling at the thought of touching them, even if it’s to shake hands.
He’s standing with a few other members of the force, officers who were allowed to wear their dress uniforms instead of being ordered to wear black tie attire like I was. Did Jordan have his people send me the dress? My gut says no, but who else would send it to me?
It’s another mystery I need to unravel. My instincts are telling me it’s another piece of the puzzle, part of the full picture. Another thing to investigate.
This ball can’t be over fast enough.
“Chief Jordan,” I greet him. “This is an amazing event. Thank you for inviting me.” No harm in starting with compliments and gratitude. “Everything looks incredible.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Jordan smiles. A few of the gray-headed men straighten their shoulders and puff up their chests. They’re not immune to flattery from a woman half their age wearing a gorgeous ball gown. “Come with me, Ramos. I have some people I want you to meet.” He offers his arm, and I take it, grateful that I don’t have to shake anyone’s hand. I don’t want to touch anyone. I’m too jumpy.
We leave the rest of the old guard behind and head across the chasm to the old money that actually runs this city.
“That’s the DA.” He points out a short, stocky man with bristling eyebrows. I’ve seen pictures of him before, and in each one, he reminds me of a bulldog with a scowl, ready to leap toward an intruder as long as his chain will let him.
A tall, thin man beside the DA spots us. “The Assistant DA.” Jordan gives him a nod, which the Assistant DA returns with a raised brow. The lawyers seem to bridge the gap between the cop side of the ball and the civilians. Unlike the cops, the lawyers are all holding drinks and look way more at ease.
“Did you have to invite them?” I murmur, and Jordan snorts.
“A necessary evil.” He steers me toward a cluster of important-looking people. Men in suits with watches that cost more than what I make in a year. Women with diamond-encrusted clutches and smooth, ageless faces. Jordan stops to shake a few hands but doesn’t bother to introduce me. I’m suddenly forgotten, aimless and happy to be out of the spotlight but standing awkwardly to the side, grateful that my black clutch gives me something to do with my hands. Jordan turns away from me, and I take a moment to press hard on my hip, savoring the bright shock of pain that keeps things in sharp focus.
That’s when I hear him. At first, I think I’m dreaming and that I’ve lost grip on the here and now. That I’m back in the private room at Club Empire, pressing myself to the St. Andrew’s Cross. Giving myself over completely to my mystery Dom.
But no. Someone jostles me. “Excuse you,” she says in a drunken slur. High-pitched laughter sounds from her shrieking friends. I barely notice. I push past them all, heading toward that voice, velvet and steel, a hard hand in a sleek leather glove, stroking down my sides. . .
It’s him. The dom. Standing a few feet away from me, larger than life. I know it’s him, although he’ll need to speak again for me to be sure.
He’s as tall as I imagined, with thick, dark hair several days past due for a haircut. A little unruly for the boardroom, but it suits him. This is a man who cannot be contained. It’s easy to picture him half-naked, swinging a giant sword. A warrior, a gladiator, and not even the expensive wool of his tailored suit can civilize him.
He turns in a fluid motion as if he can sense my stare. The movement causes the massive muscles under his tux to shift.
He has the face of an emperor, the good looks that come from wealth and breeding with beauty generation after generation.
His eyes snap to mine, and the impact of his dark gaze punches through me. I freeze like a gazelle trapped by a lion, staring down her impending doom. My world shifts so he’s at the center of it. The rest of the room has faded away.
“There you are,” Jordan says, and I startle, trying to pull myself back so I can fake some semblance of normalcy around my boss. But there’s no need; Jordan isn’t speaking to me.
“We were looking for you.” Jordan heads over to the man, and they shake hands. After a glance at Jordan, the man looks straight back at me.
“You found me.” Gods, his voice. Deep and resonant, pulling me under. I feel it all over my body like a touch. On my back, heating my skin over the luxurious fabric of my dress. At my hip and shoulders, awakening every spot the crop touched. Between my legs. . .
