Page 36 of Dominance

“That’s…an answer.” I give her a look, willing her to elaborate.

“It is, and, oh! Tom, that goes in the bedroom, the chair can go in the living area, just move one of the other chairs to the balcony or something.” Gloria grins at the moving guy and he winks, hopping to it.

“Gloria.”

“Yes?” She preens under my gaze, staring me down and being fucking impossibly pretty. And difficult.

“Why are your things here?” And how the fuck is there so much stuff?! She had a bedroom and sitting area at Dom’s house if I remember correctly. Not dozens of boxes worth of things.

“Because I’m moving in.”

My eyes bug out at the statement. Of course she is.

It’s obvious.

But it still doesn’t register as something that could possibly be true and rational.

No one just shows up and invades my space. No one who knows me or what’s good for them. It’s like Isabella, before she was with Aless, staying with us at the lodge in the snowstorm. Sneaking into my wing, looking though my things.

She had no clue how it messed with me for days, checking that everything was in its place, that nothing had been taken.

I might or might not be a little OCD when it comes to my living space.

Gloria watches me closely as she edges away, looking through a few boxes and confirming their contents.

This is …

Absurd.

A rushing sound picks up in my ears as I look around at the mess, following me into the apartment where even more things are piled up, kitchenware dragged out of half-unpacked boxes, blankets on the couch and her chair where mine used to be and…

Red.

I see fucking red.

I’ve had panic attacks before.

This is a lot like one. Only it’s a lot more like the time Ciro got into a giving phase and donated everything in my room to charity at Christmas when I was seventeen.

“Gloria.” My voice sounds echoey in my head. Soft. Quiet.

She’s scooting things around, opening cabinets.

“Gloria.” It’s louder.

But she ignores me.

“Gloria!” It snaps out like a thunderclap, and she spins on me, her eyes wide.

Just for a second, I see fear in her gaze.

And just like that, the anger’s gone, the raging rush of my blood is fading into exhaustion.

I sounded so much like Aless, that anger. And worse, like Dom when we were kids.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She smiles, shrugging.

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