Page 74 of Sixth Sin

“I’m serious!” I hiss, smacking him with my napkin.

He laughs, dodging my second swat. “I am, too. And what you just said? That’s exactly why I keep it quiet.” His smile fades. “You think I’d get a quarter of the roles I do if they knew I wasn’t straight? I’d be saddled with the gay best friend gig for the rest of my life. Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I don’t have range.”

And just because I’m not Alexandra Romanov doesn’t mean I don’t have talent. We all have crosses to bear. Noah Braddock is more than a pretty face, and I’m an asshole.

“You’re right.” I cover his hand with mine. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to hide who you are. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you and Brent.”

He watches me silently for a moment. “Somehow I think you do.”

More than you know.

Smiling, I raise my glass. “To hiding.”

Meeting my glass, he clinks them together. “Touché.” For a brief moment everything is calm. But then it all goes to hell. “Shit,” Noah says, glancing over my shoulder.

“What?”

His eyes narrow. “Don’t look now, but I think a photog snuck in.”

Of course, I look, and when I do my heart somersaults in my chest then free falls straight out my vagina. “Oh my God.”

Dominic.

How the hell did he find me? Not only that, how the hell did he get in here?

I shove my chair away from the table, knocking over crystal and rattling silverware. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

I don’t wait for a response before tearing across the restaurant in a blind panic. I realize on my second wrong turn I have no idea where I’m going. By the time I stop, it’s only because I come to a dead end in a hallway that leads to nowhere.

“Great. Now what?” Trapped in a corner isn’t ideal, especially when distant footsteps start getting closer.

And closer.

Frantic, I start turning door knobs to what I assume are supply closets, praying one of them works. “Come on!”

Finally, one turns, and just as I get it open, I’m pushed inside and shoved against the wall. Even in the dark, I don’t have to ask who it is.

“What are you doing here, Dominic?”

His strong hand slides up my neck, pausing as his thumb strokes under my chin and along my jaw. “I came to offer my congratulations to the happy couple.” His words become clipped as his grip tightens. “After all, you’re the talk of the town.”

I can’t breathe with him this close. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re damn right I don’t,” he growls, backing us both against the wall. “Eight hours, rook. What happened in eight hours to change things? I know I walked out on you the other night, but I have my reasons, all of which I planned to tell you before you decided to hop on pretty boy’s dick.”

A surge of anger rushes through me, and I struggle against him, but it’s useless. His hold is too strong. “I haven’t hopped on his dick, thank you.”

“Good.” His voice is low and rough, like the rumble of a summer storm. “Because the thought of it makes me crazy. It makes me want to go out there and break every bone in that fucker’s face.”

“Dominic…”

“You’re mine, Angel,” he heaves, grinding his hips against mine. “Angel Smith. Not Alexandra Romanov. My Angel. Every damn inch of you.”

It’s wrong. So, so wrong, but I can’t help it. I want him, and he knows it. Before I can stop myself, I wrap my arms around him, and he claims my mouth in a violent, hungry kiss. Dominic’s possession has always been rough, but there’s something in his touch tonight that’s different. Frantic. Almost as if there’s a ticking clock for both of us.

Bright light spills into the closet as the door cracks open. “Alexandra? Is everything okay in here?”

Noah. Shit!

---