The Dominator (47 page)

It wasn’t like me to be all fucking philosophical but I just knew that I loved her, that I wanted her, and that when she said she loved me after everything she’d been through because of me, it was like those 3 words ripped a layer of darkness that’d been around my heart and soul off like a Band-Aid. How many layers were left was something that, I supposed, remained to be seen.

Another ding of the phone made me realize I had to get out of bed and get on with the reason I was here. I grabbed the phone and checked my messages. We were heading back home this afternoon. I needed to talk to Pop and then go see Goldberg and see what his decision was. I didn’t know how he’d take the news that the Ferranos, as well as John Lewis, would not get involved in his project if Leo Denarda was even remotely a part of it.

We’d talked just briefly before I got in the cab last night and the three of us were meeting for lunch at John’s hotel room. But if he opted to work with us and turfed Denarda out, I had a pretty good idea how Denarda would take it and it’d probably mean another step up in security.

The smarmy goof had been leering at Tia last night instead of his skanky date and we’d already had a showdown of sorts where he puffed up his chest when I’d given him a look. If it weren’t for the fact that his sick uncle was an important man down here, he’d not even be at these meetings. Goldberg fucked up by even involving that crew. The guy would’ve been way better off just coming to us. But it was a timing issue, too. When the uncle croaked there’d be a power play in Vegas and it wouldn’t take long for Denarda to be out. Problem was that the uncle had been on his death bed for almost a year, not getting better but not kicking the bucket, either.

I talked to Pop on the phone in the other room while she took a bath and then when I was done I got in with her. She had the jets on and had her eyes closed.

I got in and she immediately started to scrub my back. When she was done, I leaned back against her chest and tilted my head back and looked up at her. We didn’t talk but her eyes said so much. If I was reading them right they said she and I were opening a new page, starting a new chapter. I wanted to say so much to her but right now I didn’t have the words so I just let her scrub my chest and then I reached down and pulled her calves up so that her legs were wrapped around my stomach. I massaged her feet and we just hung out for a while in the bubbles, not talking, just touching and cuddling and looking at each other, just being. It felt beautiful; it felt right. I never wanted to hurt her again; I felt bone-deep remorse over what I’d done the other night. I just prayed that she was okay, really okay.

Tia

Tommy left for a meeting and I ordered some soup and a sandwich from room service. He said he’d be back in a few hours and would take me gambling and then we had to head to the airport to catch our flight around 8:pm. I packed up our stuff and I stared at the TV but was lost in thought until he got back.

Vegas had been enlightening, to say the least. I was curious about whether or not having me see that specific act last night was intentional or whether it’d been a coincidence.  Whatever the case was, I guess it happened for a reason. I was just taking things minute by minute, breath by breath. I had strong feelings for him. I felt love, I felt fear, I felt dread, but I also had hope.

When he walked back in, he was smiling, had a spring in his step. “Let’s go show you why they call it Lost Wages.”

The ringing of the slot machines and the buzz of excitement: people and glasses tinkling was overwhelming, at first. But before long I probably had dollar signs in my eyes because the slot machines were fun and addicting. But I sucked at it. I don’t know how many twenties Tommy had fed in, probably 7 or 8, maybe? Maybe more. I didn’t know. It felt bad because it felt like I was flushing his money down the toilet.

He didn’t gamble, he just hung out and watched and followed me from machine to machine. When I’d cashed out of a machine and then saw it pay out right afterwards with 1000 quarters to some old lady with a blue hair rinse I decided I wasn’t moving again until I won, or until we had to leave to catch our flight, whichever came first.

“Cash out, baby. This machine is shit.” He said this after I let him feed two twenties into it and was down to 9 quarters left without going up more than once or twice.

“One more pull.”

“You don’t have to pull, you know; you can just hit the button.”

“I like to pull.”  I wrinkled my nose and glanced up at him and he was smirking. I smirked back.

“Tia, this is getting a little like fishing.”

“I’m not catching anything, though.”

“No, but remember what I had to do to get you away from that pond?”

“You’d seriously carry me out of this casino over your shoulder?”

“What do you think?”

He was serious.

“This machine is lucky. It’s pink, like my fishing rod. I’m gonna win.” I reached up and pulled the tall chrome lever again and stuck my tongue out at him and it started dinging and lights started flashing and I won five thousand dollars. Not five thousand quarters, dollars!

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed, “Told ya so, told ya so!”

He started to laugh and shake his head simultaneously while I jumped up and down. There was a guy, early 20’s, beside me and he raised his hand up for a high five. I gave him a smack of my palm and looked to Tommy, “Lost Wages my ass!” I did a little twirly dance, probably looked ridiculous, but didn’t care. He shook his head in astonishment and then leaned over and kissed me, “Sticking your tongue out at me is a spankable offence, Missy,” he winked.

“Why do you think I did it?” I winked back and his face split into a huge grin.

** ** **

He slept on the flight home, holding my hand the entire time, and I watched the in-flight movie. We travelled without James and Nino as Tommy had said they had an errand to run for him locally and would be flying back tomorrow. I’d tried to give him the $5,000 but he looked at me like I’d lost the plot. I was actually surprised they never asked for my ID in the casino.

“But you paid for everything on the trip,” I reasoned.

“So what? I’m not taking your money, Tia.”

“You’re too old-fashioned for your own good,” I told him.

He rolled his eyes at me, “Well, a leopard can’t change his spots, babe. Put it in your underwear drawer when we get home; save it for a rainy day.”

“Well maybe I’ll just buy you a present with it then,” I challenged, thinking that he’d dropped the leopard and spots cliché for a reason far beyond the $5,000.00, but I was trying to avoid focusing on that statement. Was letting me hold onto enough money to get away from him another test? Or was he trying to show me trust?

“Yeah, well, I won’t stop you,” he smirked and I gave him a big hug.  It felt so light and jovial that day and I was deeply grateful for that as it was helping me cope. Denial was helping me cope, too, but I figured I’d take whatever help I could get!

When we got back, his convertible was waiting for us at airport parking and he drove us home. It was nice to not have security. It felt almost normal. Almost.

When we got home there were two security guards outside but there was no Sarah as Tommy revealed he had sent her on a surprise holiday to see her family and she’d be a few more days. I thought that was very sweet of him.

She left me a note telling me that she’d prepared some meals in advance and froze them for us to get us through the next few days, if needed. I surveyed the refrigerator, pantry, and freezer and she’d stocked everything up well and there were plenty of ingredients for if I wanted to cook from scratch instead of simply defrosting and heating food up. She’d made a few casseroles, some batches of soup, had multiple groups of 2 steaks and 2 chicken breasts and 2 pork chops marinating in different colored sauces inside zippered freezer bags, a few batches of meat sauces, and a few lasagnas.

Tommy had gone to his office right after putting our luggage upstairs, telling me he’d be taking care of a few things and that he’d be a few hours.  I went upstairs to unpack and found a gift box beautifully wrapped in silver paper with a big pink bow on it on the bed with my name on it.  I opened it and it was a shiny new laptop. It was metallic hot pink just like my fishing rod and when I booted it up, the screen wallpaper was a photo of the pond at the farm from the view of the hayloft doors at sunset.  My heart swelled.

This man wanted me and said he loved me. I
so
wanted this to work. I so wanted the emotion I felt at that moment to be real, not just another brief reprieve from pain.

I spent a few minutes playing with it, did a few quick personalization things, a few Google searches, and then went downstairs to his office. The door was open a few inches so I pushed it open. He was in his office chair but had the chair swiveled away from the desk to face the window, which had a view of the pool. He was on the phone.

“I don’t care how difficult; I need you find out the truth about Carlita and Greg O’Connor and you get me answers within the next 2-3 days. Got me?”

I swallowed hard. I wanted to back out before he saw me but he was turning around. His brows shot up and he gave me the ‘one second’ index finger.

“Good. Yeah, bye.” He ended the call and his expression softened, “Hi.”

“Hey. I got my present.”

“Hmm?”

“The laptop?”

“Oh yeah,” his eyes lightened as what I was talking about dawned on him, “Ordered that before we left but it got here too late for you to bring it. Like it?”

“I love it. Love the color. And I especially love the background picture.”

He gave me a big smile.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Come here,” he replied.

I rounded the desk to get to him and he reached for me. I climbed up and straddled him in the office chair. He reached back to close the blinds on the window behind him. As the blinds were closing I saw that there was a tall blond guy strolling by the pool. My thoughts momentarily flickered to Earl. If Earl weren’t dead he’d probably be the man strolling by the pool right now.

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked.

I shook my head, pushing away that thought plus the urge to ask about that phone call because it was clear he was still waiting for information, “Forget it. I don’t want to get into heavy discussions right now. I wanted to show my gratitude.” I leaned in and kissed his neck, feeling a flood of relief at seeing that silver chain around it. My lips touched it as well as his neck. Maybe that wasn’t an accident.

“Mm, okay. We can talk later. We need to have a chat, actually, can’t put off the heavy discussions indefinitely, but right now I’m quite happy to focus on your gratitude.”

The idea of a chat freaked me out. Was it about us? Was it about my parents? Was there some shoe about to drop that would overwhelm me even more than I was overwhelmed already?  I needed to push everything negative in my head away right now. I didn’t want to give him any sort of negative vibe. I didn’t want any stress putting a black mark on today. And if he was stressed about that phone call, I needed to try to erase it.

I was thoughtful for a second, “I’m not only grateful for my awesome pink laptop.” I kissed his earlobe.

“Mmm.” He replied, cupping my bottom with both hands.

“I’m grateful for it and…” I said.

“And?”

My fingers threaded into his hair, “And the lovely jewelry you bought me while we were away.”

“Mm hmmm,” his hands squeezed my rear end and I could feel him bulging beneath me.

“That you couldn’t bear to leave me here while you were away because you’d miss me,” I kissed his neck.

“True story.”

“And I’m grateful that you love me,” I whispered against his collarbone and then kissed the top of his chest, where his shirt was unbuttoned.

I heard a sharp intake of breath. Now his hands were in my hair, “Why are you grateful for that?” he whispered.

In my mind the thought flashed that if he didn’t love me and was who he was with me without that emotion it’d be intolerable but there was more. So much more. So much that I couldn’t even articulate to him. That this beautiful, fucked up, powerful man wanted to spend his life with me, that he wanted me to have all sides of him, that there were things he wanted from me and things he needed from me, that he had pledged to be with only me, that he’d put the huge burden of giving him everything he needed on me, that he would put himself in the path of bullets for me, that he would give me everything he could to make me happy and fulfilled because I was his, that he was so remorseful for hurting me; it was everything. 

I looked in his eyes, “Because it’s you. My dream guy. And it means I get to be yours.”

The heat that flickered in his eyes lit my blood on fire. Yes, it was my job to be his, whatever that entailed. The realization that I wanted that job was more than a realization; it was a revelation. I knew in my head it was crazy but yet it made sense, too. By submitting to him it was freeing. No more fighting, stressing, worrying about freedom. There was freedom in this. He’d love me, he’d protect me. And I didn’t have to change who I was to be what he wanted because he kept telling me I was perfect. If I could harness that power I had to keep him sweet most of the time, and to make the rough sex a game instead of letting it get out of control, I could do this. I’d learn how to do this and the rewards would be the bliss I got when I let go and it’d keep him sweet enough. Not just orgasms but this peace that I’d found came over me in those moments after I gave in but before I let my mind beat myself up because I’d given in. I wouldn’t have to beat myself up anymore. I’d have more bliss than pain. And when I got pain I’d use it to release the shit in my head that was trapped there. I’d purge that crap one game at a time.