She quickly places a credit card down, gives Xander a grateful smile, and lets him whisk her out of the terrace.
And just like that, I'm left alone with Blaine.
Of course, then he notices me. "What's Xander doing back anyway? I thought he was off fucking supermodels." He sits with a thud.
"He's back for Lillian," I hear myself say. "You know, to help her out. They've always been close."
I have no idea if that's true, but maybe if Blaine thinks Xander and Lillian are a thing, he'll back off and stop acting so creepy.
Blaine scowls. "I didn't know. Huh. She should have learned her lesson after the first Rexford screwed her over." He mumbles something after that, but I don't wait around. I grab the credit card and my purse and stand.
"If you'll excuse me. Back to work." I don't care if it's impolite. I don't even care if he responds. I hoof it inside to the bar, pay my tab, and get the hell out. An uneasy feeling follows me, and I hope that's the last time I have to deal with Blaine Prescott.
If only I could be so lucky.
Chapter Six
By lunch the next day I'm so stressed I can almost feel my hair falling out. From the moment I walk into the office, I duck through one emergency after another. If this is some kind of ‘welcome to the corporate' world initiation, I'm pretty sure I'm failing it. Add that to the general whispers that still follow me around the building, and the fact the other interns all hate my guts, and I can't wait to get away from the drama. The minute the clock hits noon, I'm out of there. At first, I don't know where I'm going. The sun is shining and it's beautiful outside. Then I remember an exhibit at the art gallery a few blocks away that I want to see, offering a collection of photography and paintings of old buildings in Chicago.
The place is almost empty when I arrive. Air conditioning wafts over me, cooling my skin and my nerves. Suddenly, the stress of the Rexford seems a hundred miles away. I may only have a short break, but I've earned it.
I let the calm sink over me, and I slowly stroll the clean, white-walled rooms. My dad used to bring me here for special exhibitions all the time growing up. He would scan the weekend newspapers for fun, free things to do, then take me all around town: to art openings, library events, anything connected to our shared love of architecture and old buildings.
He would have loved the show today, photographs and old maps, all highlighting the architectural beauty of Old Chicago. A wave of nostalgia hits me. His passion for old buildings and history preservation are the main reason I have the career I do today.
My cellphone rings, breaking the moment. I check the screen. Xander.
"Seriously, I've been gone like fifteen minutes," I sigh.
"Sorry, darling. My wonderful brother pulled together an investors' meeting that he has no intention of attending himself. We need to present renovation updates at three."
I groan. "I hate you a little right now."
Xander laughs. "Good thing I'm used to it. Where are you?"
I tell him, and he says he'll come pick me up in an hour. I shove my phone in the bottom of my purse. If it rings again, I won't be able to hear it.
I continue browsing, and wonder if the impromptu meeting is what set Xander and Dominic off this morning. Xander, remarkably, is better at this hotel stuff than I would have thought. He has an energy about him that draws people in, makes them listen. Not to mention his ideas are fresh. He and I have collaborated more than anyone else, and I go to him first with new ideas. I wish his brother could see in Xander what I do.
If they'd work together, there's no telling how far we could take the Rexford's new direction.
I head around the corner to the back room – and come face to face with Dom.
What the hell?
"Juliet." He freezes, looking as shocked as I feel.
"I-I didn't know you were here." He's probably going to think I am stalking him now.
But instead of being tense and angry – his default setting these past weeks – Dom just takes a deep breath.
"What do you think?" He nods to a painting on the far wall. I realize that it's the Rexford as it was a hundred years ago, painted in impressionist style with muted colors.
I wonder if he's testing me. "I think it would look amazing hanging in the grand lobby." I answer, cautious.
"I've purchased it for that exact reason."
I sneak a look at him. He's wearing dark pants and a white button-down, open at the neck. Good enough to eat. I flash to a memory of taking his cock between my lips, but quickly cut that fantasy short. Get a grip. If I let my thoughts get X-rated every time he walks by, I'm going to be frustrated as hell.
"Join me in the courtyard?" He asks, taking me by surprise.
"Sure," I finally reply and hurry to catch up. He doesn't say anything as we walk out to the small green space out back. There's a bench and some sculptures dotting the lawn. Dom takes a seat at one end of the bench, and I slowly sit down too.
Silence.
"The new PR team is working out," I begin to babble. "They booked a release party for some new pop star. I know you didn't want any scandal, but it's good publicity. And we're talking to some location scouts about having the Rexford used in a couple of upcoming movies, too." I keep my voice light.
"Fine." Dom says curtly. He's staring into space, looking troubled and tense.
"Are you … ?" I pause. "Is everything OK?"
He turns to me. "What do you think?"
Is he talking about the hotel or us?
"I think you've been through a lot," I say carefully. "But Lillian and your brother aren't the enemy. They're trying to help. You're not in this alone."
His eyes are unreadable.
"And what about you?" he asks, piercing me with a stare. "Are you just ‘trying to help' too?" He's still closed off, radiating power and control. He never gives anything away, no hints about his real feelings, but it just makes me long for the old Dom: wild and untamed.
. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened. You have to know, I never planned any of this." I reach for him, without thinking, and place my hand on his arm. The touch between us is electric.
I want more. Skin to skin. God, he's so close.
"But it happened." Dom breaks contact. "I've thought it through from every direction. You could have come clean the first day of your internship. If you'd told me about the set-up, I could have figured out the legal ramifications of what happened. Instead, you played along, and I was blindsided."
"I didn't tell you that first day because I was terrified of losing my job. But then things spiraled. And I didn't want you to find out, not when I was falling in love with you."
The words slip out before I can stop myself. I freeze, but part of me is relieved. I should have told him in Paris, and then I should have told him the truth.
Dom's expression changes. His eyes blaze into me, I'm silently praying for him to say something. The silence stretches on, until, finally, he takes a deep breath.
"Juliet-"
Another voice interrupts us. "Well, look at you lovebirds. Finally kissing and making up?"
Xander strolls over, smirking. Dom tenses, and the shutters on his expression slam down.
"Jesus, haven't I dealt with you enough today?" Dominic snaps. His face is stony now, and whatever he was about to say to me is history.
"I'm not here for you, brother. Juliet is the only one I want." Xander winks, and I want to strangle him.
"Dom-" I turn, but he's already on his feet, looking brisk. "See you back at the office," he snaps, and walks away.
"Whoops?" Xander offers, not at all concerned.
"You don't even know," I sigh, and follow him out to his car. It's red – of course – and sporty, with leather seats and a sleek, powerful body.
"You're such a cliché," I tell him, getting into the passenger seat and buckling up. I don't want to think about what just happened – or almost happened.
"Me?" Xander laughs.
"The women, the yacht, the cars … If they looked up ‘playboy billionaire' in the dictionary, your photo would be right there."
"My good side, I hope." Xander quips, starting the engine. With a wolfish grin, he throws the car into drive and whips into traffic.
"Are you okay?" He looks over at me – and away from the road.
"Xander!" I yelp. I grab the dash and watch the road, realizing I've been in this situation before. With Dominic. "You know, you drive like your brother."
"Ha! You've got that backwards. He drives like me. Who do you think taught him?"
He downshifts and the little car bursts forward. I try to relax, but that's not going to happen. The light turns red just as we cross an intersection. My heart slams into my throat. "We're not in a race here."