The guy had two homes. One had a pool and the other had a doorman. Thinking about it, there was probably a pool around here somewhere too.
Ava did not belong here, but she wanted to be with him anyway, and she was beginning to think no matter how much she pretended this thing was about sex and the fact they were stuck together, her feelings went deeper than that. Much deeper.
He swore and pulled away. Pressed the intercom. “We’ll be right down.” He took her hand. “For tonight, you’re not my colleague or bodyguard, you’re my girlfriend. Security will be tight so we can relax a little.”
A longing so strong shot through Ava that she couldn’t hold his gaze. She knew this wasn’t for real. Sure, he’d said he wanted her there, but what else could he have said?
Attending the party was to appease his father, and her posing as his girlfriend kept Bureau business private. No one had caught on to the fact there was a serial killer hunting FBI agents yet. Nor did the media know Peter Galveston’s body had been removed from his grave probably by the local pastor. When they found out, the public was going to go ape-shit.
But maybe, for one more night, she and Dominic could forget everything and relax—which would be a damn sight easier if she wasn’t wearing three-inch heels and her boobs weren’t on show to the world.
Courage.
Dominic swept his hand forward so she went first. They headed to the elevator and she stood barely breathing as she watched him in the reflective surface. He looked like a movie star.
He slid on dark glasses as they left the elevator. The glasses hid the last vestiges of his black eyes, and she could imagine he really didn’t want to have to explain to everyone exactly how he’d got them.
Outside on the curb was a black Lexus identical to the one he’d crashed in last Wednesday night. He paused mid-stride and almost recoiled.
“What’s going on?” she asked, braced for danger.
“Apparently my father sent me a gift.”
He didn’t seem happy with the notion, and Ava understood. The last time he’d been inside that model of vehicle, he’d been in a terrible accident.
“Let’s grab a cab,” Ava suggested.
Dominic turned his head sharply, looking at her over the glasses as if surprised by her insight.
She tried not to be insulted. Van had always told her that her biggest asset was her intuition, followed by her gumption. His words. They reminded her of why she was really with Sheridan. Finding the truth behind Van’s death. Over the last few days that focus had blurred and shame reared up. After everything Van had done, he deserved better from her.
Dominic took her hand again and squeezed, towing her to the curb where he held up his arm for a passing taxi.
When a yellow cab stopped, he helped her inside and climbed in next to her. She hauled the layers of lace and chiffon into her lap feeling like the heroine in some historical romance. She just needed the cab to morph into a horse and carriage and Sheridan to morph into a Duke. Then they’d make out and possibly have full blown sex, and she’d be ruined and they’d have to get married.
She blinked her way back into the twenty-first century, a little shocked by the fact her imagination was now doling out daydreams where she and Sheridan got hitched.
The problem with grabbing a cab was the fact they couldn’t talk about the case in front of the driver. They settled back in silence as Dominic gave the guy an address. Ava wasn’t that familiar with DC so turned her attention to seeing the sights as they drove around.
Dominic picked up her hand, and she wondered if he was doing it to get into character or if he needed the comfort for what lay ahead. From the little he’d said he didn’t have the best relationship with his family. Hers were loud and boisterous and always interfering in her business, but she loved them.
When they started to pass embassies with the National Cathedral appearing on the hill above them, Ava began to get nervous.
“Anything I need to know about this event?”
“My family is dysfunctional and annoying, the exception being my little sister, Gwen.” He spoke quietly so the cabby couldn’t overhear. “She’s the baby of the family. Blames herself for the fact our mother killed herself even though she was only an infant when it happened.”
“Postpartum depression?” asked Ava.
Dominic nodded tersely. “No one ever mentions it, or Mom. It’s like we pretend she never existed.”
“I’m sorry. I know how much that sucks.” Ava was hit by an unexpected bolt of longing. “We don’t talk about my dad either. Can’t really. I miss him, but it’s like I made him up in my imagination.”
Dominic nodded and closed his eyes briefly as if letting the emotion touch him for that split second before moving on.
“This will be the fifth time my father has gotten married, and I’m supposed to be the best man for this one.” He looked out the window. “Usually he asks my brother Franklin, but I suspect he asked me so I didn’t find a way to wheedle out of the proceedings. We’ve been here so many times. It’s hard to pretend it’ll last.”
“Pessimist.” She bumped his arm with hers.
“Realist,” Dominic argued. “Between my father’s inability to marry the right woman and my brother’s need to destroy anything good in the world, my family isn’t exactly all hearts and flowers.”
“Brothers can be annoying.”
He held her gaze. “Franklin isn’t annoying. He’s an asshole.”
Her lips twitched. “Good to know.”
His fingers smoothed over her hand as if he were memorizing the length and curve of each bone and knuckle.
“What if people want to know where I’m from?” she asked, trying to distract herself from thinking about his hands on her body.
Dominic’s dark blue eyes took her in and seemed to note her raging nerves. “Tell them.”
“Which version?” she muttered beneath her breath.
Dominic leaned into her hair. “I forgot to tell you how amazing you are to have done what you did as a kid after watching your father murdered. And how you chased that gunman through the woods yesterday was brave as hell.”