You’re not.” I liked her voice. Liked how she called me honey.
“You say that. But I’m ’zactly like him. I jerk off in the bathroom thinking about you. Well, not anymore.”
She was quiet for a beat, and then her fingers were on my necktie. “Why not?”
“Doesn’t seem right. You’re right outside the door. It’s disrep—disruh—dis-re-spect-ful,” I enunciated clearly. I was so fucking tired.
“You’re not responsible for your father’s actions. What he did isn’t your fault.”
I covered my face with my hands. “Yes, it is. It’s my fault he was there to do the things he did.”
“Why?”
“Never mind. Forget I said anything,” I told her. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. It made me sad and sick, and I just wanted to feel good. Even if I didn’t deserve it. “’Sides. I don’t deserve you anyway.”
My tie loosened, then vanished, and those glorious fingers were working the buttons on my shirt free. I really liked that.
“Dom?”
“Yeah?”
“Open your eyes for a second.”
I did as my Angel Ally asked.
“You’re nothing like your father. You never have been, and you never will be. You’re a good man. You take care of people who need it. You protect them and build them up. You’re going to make some woman very lucky someday.”
“Wish it was you.”
She cupped my face in her cool hand, and I rubbed my jaw shamelessly against it. That easy, physical affection Ally gave was something I had no idea I needed. And I was going to have to go back to living without it.
“Get some sleep, honey,” she said softly.
My eyes wouldn’t open anymore. I felt the weight of the blanket she pulled over me, the bounce of Brownie jumping onto the bed.
“Thanks for taking care of me, Ally.”
“Back at you, Dom.”
45
Ally
My feet and my brain were numb.
Prancing around on pinchy stilettos had probably permanently damaged the nerves in my toes. And as for my brain, my boss had rendered it useless.
I eased his Range Rover into the driveway and sat in the dark. Images from the night flashed on a loop through my mind.
The dress.
The runway.
Dominic “Alcohol as Truth Serum” Russo.
I had a lot of confusing, conflicting thoughts. But it all came back to one thing. He didn’t want to be like his father. It was as simple and complex as that.
Nights like these changed lives and were retold as stories for years to come. But I didn’t know what my story would be. Would it be the time the up-and-coming designer made me temporarily semi-famous? Or would it be the night I finally realized my heart belonged to a man I was never going to be with?
I got it now. I got him now.
He wanted me but not enough to do something that—in his mind—would put him in his father’s league. I had experience in that department and could respect Dominic’s decision.
I wanted that revelation to free me from whatever attraction I had to the man. I wanted to feel relieved. Instead, I just felt sad. Bone-deep, soul-deep sad.
My old phone cheerfully clunked out a facsimile of a ring.
Faith. My late-night checker-inner.
“Hey,” I said.
“Oh. My. God. I’m so glad you’re up!” she squealed. “Girl. You are all over social media as Christian James’s mystery heartbreaker! Tell me you’re out partying with fancy people. Are you in a limo on your way to some celebrity’s penthouse afterparty?”
Faith’s life was significantly more glamorous than my own. It was a special treat to have a story finally worthy of sharing.
I laughed. “I’m sitting in my driveway in my boss’s Range Rover that I may or may not have stolen.”
“I knew you had an inner badass! Is this the same boss who chased you out of the club after you refused to take his sexy money?”
“That’s the one. It’s been a weird night.”
“I absolutely need every detail,” she insisted. I heard her crack open a can of what was probably Mountain Dew, her post-one a.m. beverage of choice because she was immune to calories, sugar, and caffeine.
Since the SUV was warmer than my house, I stayed put and told her about the dress and the preview and party.
Faith swooned appropriately. “Are you totally into this Christian guy?”
“He’s super smart and sweet and sexy,” I hedged.
“But?”
I smiled. She was an expert people reader. “But the chemistry isn’t right.”
“Bummer. He’s gorgeous, and he’d shower you in designer goodies for all the days of your life until you had a dramatic divorce. Maybe you should introduce me to him,” Faith teased.
Huh. That could be interesting,