at your side . . . well, they could try their hands at matching you up with other males instead.”
Fuck, he was right, Mila thought. Her parents could be relentless at times. Nothing stopped them once they got an idea in their heads. “Hmm. I suppose you are the lesser evil.”
He smiled. “I knew you liked me.”
“Unless you want to donate blood, be still.” She rinsed the blade under hot water before taking that first swipe. It glided smoothly and effortlessly across his face and neck with each pass. Once she’d finished, she rinsed him off, applied some aftershave balm to his slightly damp skin, and then patted him dry with a towel. “There.”
He glided his hand over his now butter-smooth skin. “Nicely done.”
After he’d paid and left a far-too-generous tip, she said, “I just have a couple of things to do, and then we can go.”
He gave her a pointed look. “Ten minutes, Mila. My face is leaving in ten minutes—be on it.”
“Oh my God. Do you ever stop?”
“Being what? Charming? Funny? Irresistible?”
“Bizarre? Warped? Disturbed?”
“Hey, now, there’s no need to get mean.”
She stalked off, shaking her head. “Hopeless. You’re totally hopeless.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mila had no idea how he did it. Really. It was like he had some magical power that enabled him to enchant people or something. Valentina liked very few people, but she quickly developed a fondness for Dominic—it was apparent in the way she kept refilling his plate and regaling him with stories of her childhood.
Even James clearly liked him, and James didn’t like any male who had designs on his only daughter. The three were chatting like they were lifelong friends, and Mila knew that Dominic would be invited to eat at this table again and again—even though her parents’ matchmaking efforts would lead to nothing.
She supposed that part of why people quickly warmed to him was that he was super good at keeping the conversation light and easy. No invasive questions, no deep talk, no tricky topics like politics. He just joked and flattered and charmed, putting people at ease. It wasn’t an act, though. He wasn’t playing a part. He was quite simply easy to be around. But he also wasn’t being totally himself.
Draping an arm over the back of her chair, Dominic absentmindedly traced little circles on her shoulder. Which was bold, really, considering her parents were right there. He didn’t dial down his behavior around them. He still invaded Mila’s personal space. Still touched her how and when he felt like it. Still hit her with cheesy lines, although they thankfully weren’t dirty. Not that her parents would care if they were dirty—they found him hilarious.
She should push him away, but he was right that it would be simpler to let her parents believe their little plot was working. Also, she liked it when he touched her. Liked that it eased her cat, who was currently quite relaxed, enjoying the light atmosphere. The feline liked GQ a lot too—mostly because he made Mila smile.
Putting down her cutlery, Valentina took a sip of her wine. “You have spoken much about your pack,” she said to Dominic. “But not of your family.”
Pausing in doodling patterns on Mila’s shoulder, Dominic shrugged. “My pack are my family.”
“I heard it was once part of”—Valentina clicked her fingers a few times—“the Bjorn Pack. It split at one point, yes?”
“That’s right,” confirmed Dominic.
“Did your family leave with you when it split?” asked James, forking some beef.
Dominic drummed his fingers on the table. “No. My parents were dead by then. There was only my aunt and uncle, and they chose to stay behind.”
Valentina lowered her glass, sobering. “I am sorry to hear they have passed.”
“No siblings?” James asked him.
“One,” said Dominic, his voice a little stilted. “He died before I was born.”
Mila’s eyes fell closed, stomach twisting. “Shit.”
Dominic nodded. “Yeah.”
Valentina rubbed his arm. “What happened to the boy?” Yeah, the woman was that comfortable around GQ, she felt no compunction about laying a question like that on him. But before Mila could tell him he didn’t need to answer, he began to speak.
“My mother fell asleep at the wheel and crashed into a truck. She and my father survived. Tobias didn’t.”
Valentina’s face went soft with sympathy. “Did she blame herself?”
Dominic looked at Mila, and she sensed he was thinking of lying or, at the very least, only giving half an answer. Finally, he turned back to Valentina and said, “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in a long time, although