Page 67 of Between Love and Loathing
“We actually haven’t even fucked,” I said, irritated all over again for continuing down this petty path. “And we won’t. I’ll stay with you a couple nights while I figure out another living situation—”
“I have a whole wing you can stay in, Clara. It won’t be that bad.” He said it softly, consoling, like suddenly he was remorseful for his actions. “Plus, it will look good for our fake relationship.”
Ah, there it was. I took a deep breath, trying to will back the tears that were hot behind my eyes. “I get that I’m an asset to you. That this fake relationship is benefitting the both of us. But”—I held up a hand when he started to say something—“don’t treat me like a toy you can fuck around with. I’ve been a toy and a damn accessory for most of my life. I won’t be that here. Not again.”
“Clara,” he frowned, and I knew he didn’t understand. How could he? “I didn’t mean for you to feel—”
“I don’t care how you meant it. You didn’t think about it.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You ruined what was mine. My mother and sister ruled my damn life, Dominic. You might not understand it, and I’m not going to sit here and cry about it with you, but I left so I could have something that was mine. Just mine! I bought the stuff that went in that apartment, I made it a home, I made it what I wanted, and you fucking destroyed it.”
“Clara.” He whispered out my name as an apology, but when he reached out to wipe my tears, I stepped back. “Fuck, baby. I didn’t know it would hurt you.”
“No. Because you didn’t ask.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.” I took a deep breath. “I’m changing that right here and right now by telling you that you’d better ask in the future if you want this dumb fake relationship to go over like it should. Thiswon’thappen with me again. Give me your word.” I stuck out my hand for him to shake.
His jaw worked up and down, up and down. “I don’t shake hands with you, cupcake.”
“Don’t you even dare—”
He came for my mouth, and he wouldn’t be denied. I enjoyed the kiss from him too much even if it was filled with hate.
DOMINIC
Clara was so worried about the damn resort and what I wanted out of it that she barely worried about herself. She’d basically sold her soul to those tabloids when she’d pushed me to let them continue to be printed. She was doing it over and over again in front of me, putting someone else before her happiness.
She mentioned her mother and sister, and again, I knew there was more to the story, that one day I’d have to pry it out of her. Now, though, I just wanted to shake out the trait of her letting others run over her and then hug her for all she’d done in the past for everyone else.
I knew the paparazzi would be ruthless once they got wind of our living situation, so I took it upon myself to make sure my PR handled some of it. Nothing negative was to be printed about her, I didn’t give a shit if it helped fuel the resort’s opening.
And now? I was so worried about her well-being that I’d pulled every string to get her out of that apartment and into my own house. Was I supposed to care this much about a fake girlfriend? Never had I imagined I’d be worried about her well-being over the resort or over how Natya would lash out, and yet, I went to bed and woke up worrying only about her.
Did her damn cupcakes turn out right today? Did she get the stupid vanilla extract she wanted from the distributor? I should have been worried about the call I’d gotten on another project at a resort an hour away. I had a million things to juggle, to consider, to fill my head. Over the years, I’d been satisfied to let work consume me.
Yet, nothing took over my mind and haunted it in the way Clara’s broken face had. I watched her puffy eyes take in the greenery surrounding my private drive. We wove through the hills and the land, getting farther and farther from LA. I lived outside the city limits to get away from the crowds of people, or maybe I was just trying to preserve a semblance of my soul. I’d bought the home in an auction from a late architect’s estate. Supposedly, he’d built it for his family, but never got to share it with them. The story was morbid but maybe so was mine.
She didn’t say a word one way or the other about the structure as we pulled up and waited for the gate to open. It was all brick—brick driveway, brick stone, gray and melancholy. I’d never livened the place up because my heart didn’t want that.
When she walked in, all I heard her mumble was, “Of course there’s no color,” before she bent down and scooped up the kittens that had already made themselves at home. My personal assistant had got the cats food bowls, set up their beds in the study, and there was no mold anywhere in my home that I knew of.
“Where would you like me to sleep the next few nights?” she said in a clipped tone.
Damn, I’d hurt her by relocating her without asking. I’d have to make it up to her over time.
Taking over that apartment was necessary though. I knew health hazards when I saw them, and too many people were being taken advantage of. High rent made their health take a back seat to housing.
She still had that cough, but it was less now. I swear she didn’t even notice it, but I did. I noticed every damn thing about that girl. The way she looked away when I pushed her on her money situation, the way she hid the hell people put her through to accommodate everyone else.
I just didn’t know how much that apartment had meant to her. Peeling the layers back on Clara’s life suddenly felt like a necessity. The woman was going to be living in my house, and I knew nothing about her except that I wanted to know everything and that she belonged by my side until further notice.
Instead of asking for a tour or acting at all interested in the place I’d redesigned and lived in, she’d demanded to know where she’d be sleeping. That was it. My team had dropped off her belongings into the guest room.
When I pointed down the hall, she called Sugar and Spice and made kissing sounds in hopes they’d follow her. They didn’t. Both cats seemed to have abandoned their owner for me, preferring instead to weave in and out of my legs.
She glared at me, betrayed all over again. “Bring them to my room and then leave.”
I’d take any way of getting time with her that I could right now. I whispered a thank you to both the kittens and stalked down the hall.
When they filed into her room, she glared. “Leave.” I took a step back and gave her the space she rightfully deserved. She shut the door right away, and I murmured, “Good girl.” At least to me, she was learning to stand up for herself.
Her outburst in the bakery told me so. She’d cracked enough that I saw through her facade. She’d been overlooked in more ways than one, but here she wouldn’t be. I’d make sure of it.
