Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Well, hello there,” my mom said. Her voice dropped several octaves. She straightened the collar on her floral print, deep V-neck. It was a shirt she owned about fifty variations of and I hardly ever saw her venture outside that exact fit and style. “Darcy told us you were handsome. She didn’t say you were gorgeous.”
Dominic gave her an easy smile, then his eyes slid to meet mine with a dangerous flicker. “I didn’t know Darcy found me handsome,” he said.
“Oh, stop it,” my mom had somehow closed the distance between herself and Dominic in record time. If Dad was asking her for help in the kitchen, it seemed to take her ages to move on her bad knees. Apparently, Dominic had temporarily cured her of that because she practically teleported to his side. “You must get into all sorts of trouble with your employees.”
“Mom!” I warned under my breath.
“What?” she asked, “Like he doesn’t know?”
“Can you take this into the kitchen?” I asked, pointedly handing her the wine bottle.
She gave him one last look, then took the wine into the kitchen. I heard my dad exclaim something in an excited tone when he saw the bottle. He apparently recognized the vintage.
“You think I’m handsome, McClain?” Dominic asked.
I swallowed hard. “I think you think you’re handsome,” I countered.
That earned the slightest twitch from the corner of his mouth. “Why am I here?”
“Because you made the mistake of telling me I could get you pinned down for an interview whenever I wanted. I’m punishing you.”
He smirked. “Is that what you’re into? Punishment? I guess Elizabeth did say something about the enjoyment you got when she spanked you.”
A vivid image of Dominic bending me over his knee and spanking my ass flashed in my head. I blinked it away and shook my head. “I don’t think that implication is appropriate, Mr. Lockwood.”
“You invited me to meet your parents. I’m starting to wonder if you’re hoping things get inappropriate.”
Jesus Christ. There was a baritone grit to his voice that made it feel like his hands were on me even though they were folded under his impressive chest.
“We should go help set the table,” I said, fast-walking toward the dining room.
Dominic followed me into the small room. My mom had already stacked plates and silverware in the center of the table along with her trusty Thanksgiving placemats she used for any gathering–no matter the time of year.
I grabbed the plates and Dominic followed me around, setting silverware beside each plate. I was surprised to see he set them in the correct order with forks on the left, knives on the right, and even placing the soup spoon on the right beside the forks.
“Somehow I didn’t take you for a table setter,” I said.
He eyed me from beneath a lock of his dark hair that had fallen loose. “People are full of surprises.”
“Did your father make you do this before family dinners or something?”
“Family dinners?” Dominic laughed at that. “I had an au pair who made sure we had takeout. There wasn’t much place setting in the Lockwood house.”
“Oh,” I said. “For some reason I pictured you at big dining tables getting etiquette lessons from your parents every night or something.”
“Hardly,” he said. Carefully, he straightened one of the forks I’d placed until it was perfectly parallel with the one beside it. “The only etiquette lessons my father ever gave were demonstrations on how not to act.”
I smiled a little at that. “Not a huge fan of the old man?”
“He’s a prick.”
Suddenly, I found myself a little less pissed at Dominic for everything that happened to me back at Columbia. I’d always assumed he knew his dad got me expelled and that he knew about the piece I wrote. But if he hated his dad, how likely was he to know? Maybe he never had any idea about the piece in the first place.
There was a knock at the door and I jumped in surprise.
I heard my mom’s voice from the kitchen. “That must be Eloise and Thyme.”
“It’s Basil, Dear,” my father said.
“Oh whatever,” My mom scoffed. She shuffled past us on her way to the front door and gave a little wink and a wave. She already had a glass of the wine Dominic had brought in hand and the rim was painted with several lipstick marks.
“You didn’t tell me they were coming,” Dominic said.
“Because I didn’t know.”
14
DOMINIC
Darcy’s family was… interesting.
Her mom looked like her hobbies included day drinking, tanning beds, and curling her hair into oblivion. Her name was Lanie. Her dad was clearly trying to cultivate a sort of pseudo-intellectual vibe with the facial hair, attention-grabbing clear frame glasses, and the black turtleneck he had on. His name was Ebert.
Then there was the sister and her boyfriend. I’d met both last week at the art gallery. Her sister Eloise had on some kind of romper suit with more paint stains on it. She also had a smear of white across her forehead and blue on the tip of her nose. Basil was suited up in a pretentious all black outfit composed of a sweater, black jeans, and a puffy little hat.