“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “Mr. Ajello worries for you.”
Where I expected to find anger, I only felt acceptance. This was all so new, giving me this little piece of freedom, and despite what I told Gastone about being in no danger, he had his own demons to fight. So, I let it slide.
I sighed as I levelled a look at Dom, letting him know exactly who was in charge here. “I’m going to pick out some shampoo now. You might as well walk with me.”
He nodded and looked utterly relieved that I hadn’t argued much. Silently, he fell into step.
But something about his behaviour caught my attention. He kept checking his phone, his face furrowed with concern. I'd never seen Dom distracted before—the man was like a machine, always focused.
“Everything okay?” I asked, as we walked into the convenience store.
“Just some trouble at the office,” he grunted, still on his phone.
My ears perked up immediately.
Trouble at the office meant something interesting might be happening with Gastone. Something I could learn about. But Dom said no more.
I'd tried to find information about Gastone’s business operations in the penthouse and come up empty. But if I could get to his workplace…
As I paid for my shampoo and some last-minute additions, I watched Dom subtly again. He was typing furiously on his phone now, his expression grim.
Definitely something was up.
After paying, I turned to face him.
“I want to buy a new pillow,” I told him with a bright smile. “The ones at Gastone’s aren’t…right.”
It was a lie. But I had a plan.
This was my chance to see what my “husband” actually did during the day. In all our time together, he never talked about his work—just disappeared each morning and returned each evening. It didn’t help me get any closer to finding leverage.
He nodded, putting his phone away. “The place two doors down is good.”
“Actually,” I said, lowering my voice conspiratorially, “I know a much better place. It's a bit of a drive, though.”
Dom frowned and looked clearly distracted, clutching his phone again, clearly torn between two responsibilities.
“Trust me, this place is amazing,” I leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “It's where all the hotels buy their pillows.”
His frown deepened. “I don't think—”
“Please, Dom?” I widened my eyes, channeling every ounce of charm I possessed. “It would mean so much to me. And I promise we'll go straight there and back. It’ll be a really quick trip. I’m exhausted, anyway.”
Dom's expression shifted slightly. I could tell he had no reason to deny me. That he felt I’d been such a sport about discovering him, and was being so very civil, that saying no would seem unkind.
“Where is this place?” he finally asked.
“Downtown,” I said, vague on purpose. “I can direct you.”
He sighed. “Fine. But we go straight there, buy your pillow, and head home.”
I smiled brightly. “Perfect.”
In the car, I directed Dom through Manhattan, deliberately taking a roundabout route. I knew exactly where Gastone's main office building was—I'd read it on some correspondence when I was spying in his office.
When we were getting close, I feigned confusion. “I think we need to turn here... no, wait. I'm all turned around.”
Dom's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Ms. Lebedev—”
