Page 168 of By A Thread
“Not that kind of firing squad. Like a ‘you’re no longer employed, pack your shit’ firing squad.”
Eyes on the road, he took my hand, squeezed it. “Stop worrying,” he insisted.
“Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? You’re so handsome and smart,” I said, heavy on the eyelash-batting sarcasm.
“Hey, I could have easily fixed this,” he reminded me.
“Your solution was to quit your job. On what planet was that even an acceptable option?”
“On the planet where I want to be able to get you naked guilt-free more than I want that job.”
My lady parts performed a discombobulating quiver. My vagina was fangirling over Dominic Russo.
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that. Youlikeworking there,” I pointed out.
He shot me a skeptical side-eye. “What makes you say that?”
“I think you’re a lot more comfortable atLabelthan you realize,” I pointed out. “You’ve never once complained about fashion being boring or unnecessary or shallow. If anything, I think you have an appreciation for it. You clearly enjoy working with your mother and Linus. And I’ve seen your face when you get the final mock-ups for the issue.”
He grunted rather than admitting I was right.
“Besides, you’re a Russo. You and Dalessandra are building a legacy. I’m the one who has no idea what I’ll do once things are more settled with Dad.”
“You’ll stay here.” He said it in that annoyingly confident way as if he’d already made the decision for me.
“I haven’t decided,” I sniffed primly as he pulled into the parking garage.
“Yes. You have. You’re not setting your father up in a nursing home and then moving away.”
Smug Smartypants had me there, and he knew it.
He swung into a parking spot, and we sat in silence for a beat.
“I don’t like it when you worry,” he said.
It was an oddly sweet sentiment coming from him. I opened my mouth to tell him that, but he cut me off.
“Especially not when there’s an obvious solution.”
The tiny cartoon hearts orbiting my head popped like balloons. “Are you trying to annoy me?” I asked.
“I’m pointing out that by ignoring my solution, you’re setting yourself up for unnecessary discomfort. No matter what, people will talk.”
I shifted on the heated leather seat to face him. “Dom, of course people are going to talk. Trying to avoid being a topic of conversation is a pretty lame way to live life. Sometimes, accepting the discomfort is how good things are earned.”
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Or scared. Or hurt. Iwantto protect you from all of that. Icanprotect you from all of that. You’re just too damn stubborn to see the light.”
Bizarrely, those little cartoon hearts reappeared.
“Dom, as much as you want to, you can’t protect me from everything. And if people want to gossip and speculate about us or our sex life or what I’m going to do after I definitely get fired, let them. I’m not going to lie and hide things in hopes that Malina won’t be hissing insults behind my back.”
Or more likely to my face.
“I want this to be worth it to you,” he said, staring straight through the windshield.
“Are you talking to me or that concrete pillar?”
He gave an exaggerated eye-roll. “Don’t be a smartass.”
