Page 159 of By A Thread
“What you need is to realize that you’re in over your head and that I am not just willing to help, I am begging to help you.”
The panic was still there in those sweet brown eyes. “Dominic, I can’t afford to owe you anything more.”
Overwhelmed, I dragged her into my arms. “Baby, listen to me. The way you felt about your dad living in that shithole is exactly how I feel about you living here. This isn’t a favor to pay back. This is purely selfish on my part. I can’t live with you staying here.”
“You’ve already done more than I can ever thank you for. This job, this salary, literally saved my dad. And I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to repay you for that.” Her voice broke, and I couldn’t take it anymore than I could take the image of her huddled up under the covers while I texted her from my warm, safe townhouse.
I held on tight.
“I promised my Dad that I would handle this. That he’d never be a burden. I can’t let him down. He’d be humiliated.”
I pressed her face to my chest. “Oh, Ally. How do you think he would feel if he saw you living like this? If he knew how hard you were working and how little you were eating? You tell me what would be worse for him.”
“He’s never going to know,” she said firmly.
“So if you’re not going to tell him that, why do you have to tell him if I help?”
Ha! I had her there. It was her own pride getting in the way right now, not her father’s.
“I…”
Clearly she didn’t know what to say in the face of my flawless male logic.
“You’re not in this alone anymore, Ally. I get that this feels like just another curveball coming from me. I do. And I’m fucking sorry for that. But I’m on your team, whether you want me or not. And you are not staying here alone ever again.”
“Knock knock!” The cheery, heavily accented call came from the open front door.
I grabbed Ally and tucked her behind my back to face the pre-crack of dawn threat.
The woman couldn’t have been more than five feet tall. She was roundish and oldish with a bright, nosy smile. There was a blue casserole dish in her hands. “I heard lots of yelling and came to investigate.”
“Mrs. Grosu, it’s 4:30 in the morning,” Ally choked the words out.
“Yes. It is. And you’re having a fight with a very handsome man. I’m hoping for a lovers’ quarrel, but even handsome cat burglars deserve love.”
“No lovers’ quarrel,” Ally insisted, trying to get around me on the stairs. “I’m sorry we woke you.”
“Nonsense!” The woman beamed. “It’s always the perfect time for French toast casserole. Now, introduce me to your handsome, loud friend.”
Together, we trooped down the stairs, and when Ally tried to put some distance between us, I dragged her into my side.
“Mrs. Grosu, this is my—”
“Boyfriend,” I finished for her.
“Boss,” she said.
We glared at each other. One of us was going to win this. And it wasn’t going to be Ally.
“What happened to your face?” Mrs. Grosu asked.
52
Dominic
We took Brownie next door to Mrs. Grosu’s warm, cozy bungalow and ate French toast casserole while she updated us on what sounded like an entire army of children and grandchildren.
I took advantage of Ally’s exhaustion and helped her pack two days’ worth of clothes—a compromise that I magnanimously agreed to—before driving us back into the city that was just beginning to wake up.
