Chapter 2

 Three hours later, sitting in Dad’s office, I can still feel the ghost of Dom’s skin under my fingers. His eyes? They were full of hunger.  The sparks between us are burning.

 "Gratitude, Dad." I use my fork to gently prod my chicken parmesan, my appetite long gone. "It's going great."

 My seat is right across from Dom's. He is obviously nervous as he concentrates on his meal, and a black button-down shirt covers his injured shoulder.  He can tell if I'm not looking by the way his eyes shift to me. I watch as he hacks into his food, his forearm flexing and his jaw clenching as though he's crushing down every idea.

 As he begins to eat his meal, Dad responds with a smile, "So tell me about the surprise visit." As far as I knew, you were doing well in New York.

 It is here.

 Debating how much to reveal, I hesitate, but Dom is of no assistance. He seems absorbed on his plate as if it were about to reveal a secret to him.

 “I quit my job. And I ended things with Marcus.

 Dad's plate clatters as his fork strikes it. “What? What time? You didn't call me, so why?

 "It's challenging."

 How was it complicated? Did that jerk cause you any harm? The sinister tone he adopts is the same one I heard on that mysterious call earlier.

 “Not in a physical sense.” I detest my diminutive voice, and the words are hushed.

 Dom jerks his head up. He meets and keeps my eyes. It's burning—frustration, worry, or something else I can't identify.

 "What was he doing?" Eyes narrowing, mouth clenched, Dad asks.

 My breath escapes me. things's useless to sugarcoat things. He had been robbing customers. attempting to hide it with my access codes. All the files had my name on them when it was all revealed. An investigation is underway into me.

 Dad looks at me like I just gave him a slap.

 I add, "My career is over."

 Nothing. burdensome and oppressive.

 "Jesus Christ," says Dad to himself. “Izzy...

 “There’s more.” I tear the remainder off like a band-aid. He cheated on me. along with Rebecca.

 Dom twitches his jaw. The table is where his fists curl.

 "Rebecca?" Dad whispers. Rebecca, your best friend?

 "Once my best friend. Next spring, they will get married.

 Dad lets out an exhale. "I intend on killing him."

 Dad—"

 No. I'll be driving to New York to choke him.

 “Vincent,” Dom's voice is calm but steely in the end. "That will not resolve any issues."

 "You say."

 Tears escape my eyes. I've had enough crying. No more. Control is what I need.

 I get it, then.

 I remove my shoe and place my toes on Dom's leg beneath the table. Muscles tensing, he freezes in mid-bite.

 "I'm all right, Dad," I say with ease as I put more pressure on Dom's leg. "All I need is time,"

 Across the table, Dom's eyes are blazing, but he remains still. As an alternative, he softly squeezes my foot between his calves. Up my leg, electricity shoots.

 As long as you need to, you can remain here, Dad says.

 "I realize." I move my toes up Dom's leg and yet give him a nice grin. He has a fantastic reaction. tightened jaw, dilated pupils, and shallow breathing.

 Dad shouts abruptly, "We should celebrate." "Come get drinks, Dom?"

 Tightly, Dom says, "I should go."

 "Friday night is here." Dad has gotten up and is on his way to the kitchen. "I will obtain the quality whiskey."

 Dom's hand swoops beneath the table and seizes my ankle as soon as he leaves, warm and firm.

 Hissing, he asks, "What the hell?"

 I naively blink. "I am unsure of your meaning."

 “Izzy. A growl is my name. But my ankle is stroked by his thumb. He is unable to let go.

 "At any time, you can let me go."

 "Are I able to?" It's a gruff voice. "Because you seem to be the one without letting go."

 Before I can respond, Dad comes back with three glasses and a bottle. The blazing between us is unavoidable, yet Dom lets go as if he's been caught committing a crime.

 Dad says, "To family," and lifts his glass.

 My gaze is fixed on Dom as I repeat, "To family."

 He is silent. He stares at his glass like it’s about to blow up. I just nod along, pretending to listen while Dad drones on about construction projects. We make some small talk for a bit. All my attention is on Dom. He screams restraint with his entire body, his eyes frequently dart to my mouth, and his whiskey glass rolls between his palms.

 At some point, Dad leaves us alone and excuses himself to answer a phone.

 "I ought to leave," Dom replies, getting up as quickly as the chair's electrified.

 “Should you?” Blocking his route, I follow. "Or are you inclined to?"

 The same thing.

 Is it? I move in closer. He retreats against the wall.

 I am overcome by his aroma, which is cedar, alcohol, and danger. "Because you seem intent on staying."

 He grabs my shoulders. The idea is for them to push me away. They do not.

 It's crazy," he murmurs.

 I'm Vincent's daughter, so why?

 "You're not welcome."

 “Who says that?” My hands are on his chest. He feels his heart pounding. “You?

 "Expresses every philosophy I've ever held."

 "Perhaps it's time for some break."

 With my mouth inches from yours, I stand up on my toes. I can sense his breath. Watch the struggle in his eyes, duty drawing him back, desire drawing him in.

 “Izzy. There is hardly any sound in his voice. His hands leave a trail of searing as they move down my arms.

 Only once, I mumble. "Give me a kiss once, and I'll go away."

 Both of us realize it's a lie.

 He leans in so that I can taste his lips. The strain in his body hums. He's going to give in, I hope.

Then Dad’s voice booms from the kitchen, and Dom jumps like I actually slapped him.

He blurts, “I gotta go,” 

 "Dom, hold on—"

 Too late. After the front door slams, his truck bursts into action.

 My body buzzes and my heart hammering, I stood in the solitude.

 Does he believe it will stop there?

 Not even close. 

 I take my phone out and browse to the number Marcus insisted I save in case: Richard Blackwood, a freelance detective.

 I type: I need you to examine someone. Dominic Castellano. Romano Structure. Everything. especially those connected to the NYC financial scandals or Vincent Romano.

 Instantaneous response: Completed. It will cost you, though.

 Does it cost to investigate Vincent as well?

for you? Not a f*e. I've had my eye on your father for months.

 I freeze my fingertips. What are you getting at?

 For the sake of argument, Romano Construction has some intriguing silent partners. such as those who detest publicity.

 As it falls from my grasp, the phone clatters to the ground.