Page 134 of Tuxedos and Tinsel
‘Thanks, Jeremy,’ she said. ‘Dominic has just got off a long flight. He’s not himself.’ But her excuses for him sounded lame even to her own ears.
Was that angry man glaring at her with his fists clenched at his sides the true Dominic? She’d known the anger was there bubbling below the surface, was beginning to understand the reasons for it. But she’d thought that anger that had driven him to violence was in his past. How could she possibly have thought she’d fallen in love with him? She didn’t even know the man.
‘What do you suggest we do with the tree?’ Jeremy asked. ‘There are no returns on cut trees.’
Andie’s thoughts raced. ‘We’ve got a Christmas Eve party happening elsewhere tonight. The clients have put up a scrappy old artificial tree that looks dreadful. We’ll get this delivered to them with the compliments of Party Queens. Keep whatever ornaments you can use here; the rest we’ll send with the tree. Let’s call a courier truck now.’
Seething, she set to work dismantling the beautiful tree. As she did so, she felt as if she were dismantling all her hopes and dreams for love with Dominic. The diamond ring felt like a heavy burden on her finger, weighted by its duplicity and hypocrisy. While he’d stood there insulting her, she’d felt like taking the ring off and hurling it at him. If it had hit him and drawn blood she would have been glad. His words had been so harsh they felt like they’d drawn blood from her heart.
But of course she couldn’t have thrown her ring at him while there were other people in the house. She would be professional right to the end. After all, wasn’t she known for her skill at dealing with difficult people?
In spite of that, she’d had her fill of this particular difficult man. He’d got what he wanted from her in terms of his American deal. She’d got what her family needed for Timothy. Both sides of the bargain fulfilled. He’d been her employer, her fake fiancé—she’d liked to think they’d become friends of a sort. She’d wanted more—but that was obviously not to be. She’d stick it out for the Christmas lunch. Then she’d be out of here and out of his life.
The crew worked efficiently and well. When they were done and the tree was gone she waved them goodbye and wished them a Merry Christmas. But not before asking them to please not repeat what they might have heard today. Talk of Dominic’s outburst could do serious damage to the rehabilitation of his Scrooge image.
By the time they had all gone it was early evening. She stood and massaged the small of her back where it ached. She would let Dominic know she was done and going home. But she had no intention of texting him as he’d asked. Not asked.Demanded.She had things to say that had to be said in person.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WITHAHEAVYHEART—wounded heartshurt—Andie made her way up the stylishly decorated staircase, its tiny lights discreetly winking. She hadn’t been up here before, as this part of the house was off-limits for the party. When she thought of it, she actually had no idea where Dominic could be.
The first two doors opened to two fashionably furnished empty bedrooms. The third bedroom was obviously his—a vast bed with immaculate stone-coloured linens, arched windows that opened to a sweeping view of the harbour. But he wasn’t there.
Then she noticed a door ajar to what seemed like a study.
There was no response to her knock, so she pushed it open. The blinds were drawn. Dominic lay sprawled asleep on a large chesterfield sofa. The dull light of a tall, arching floor lamp pooled on him and seemed to put him in the spotlight.
His black lace-up business shoes lay haphazardly at the end of the sofa. He had taken off his jacket and removed his tie. The top buttons of his shirt were undone to reveal an expanse of bare, well-muscled chest her traitorous libido could not help but appreciate as it rose and fell in his sleep.
His right arm fell to the floor near a bottle of bourbon. Andie picked it up. The bottle was nearly full, with probably no more than a glassful gone. Not enough for him to be drunk—more likely collapsed into the sleep of utter exhaustion. She put the bottle on the desk.
There was a swivel-footed captain’s chair near the sofa with a padded leather seat. She sat on the edge of it and watched Dominic as he slept. Darn it, but that wounded heart of hers beat faster as she feasted her eyes on his face, which had become so familiar. So...so—she nearly let herself thinkso beloved. But that couldn’t be.
She swallowed hard at the lump that rose in her throat. Why on earth had she let herself fall for a man who was so difficult, so damaged, so completely opposite to the man who had made her so happy in the past?
Dominic’s hair stood up in spikes. He obviously hadn’t shaved since he’d left Minneapolis and his beard was in that stubble stage she found so incredibly sexy. She hadn’t realised how long and thick his eyelashes were. His mouth was slightly parted. She longed to lean over and kiss it. She sighed. There would be no more kissing of this man.
He moaned in his sleep and she could see rapid eye movement behind his lids as if he were being tortured by bad dreams. She could not help but reach out to stroke his furrowed forehead. He returned to more restful sleep. Then his eyes flickered open. Suddenly he sat up, startling her. He looked around, disorientated, eyes glazed with sleep. He focused on her.
‘Andie,’ he breathed. ‘You’re here.’ He gave a huge sigh, took her hand and kissed it. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.’
He didn’t deserve to, she thought. But her resolve was weakening.
‘Are you okay?’ she said, trying to ignore the shivers of pleasure that ran up her arm from his kiss. He had been rude and hurtful to her.
‘I’ve just had a horrible dream,’ he said.
‘What kind of dream?’
‘A nightmare. I was in a cemetery and saw my own headstone.’
She shook her head. ‘No, Dominic—I don’t want to hear this.’ The day of Anthony’s funeral had been the worst day of her life. When she’d had to accept she’d never see him again. She couldn’t bear to think of Dominic buried under a headstone.
But he continued in a dramatic tone she didn’t think was appropriate for such a gruesome topic. ‘It said: ‘Here lies Dominic—they called him Scrooge’. And I think it was Christmas Day.’
Not so gruesome after all. She couldn’t help a smile.
‘You think my nightmare was funny?’ he said, affronted.
