Chapter 5 Acting Professional

Leah's POV

By the time we’d gone through every detail, including venues, timelines, catering preferences, and florist contacts, I could finally see the finish line.

Jane turned out to be a perfectionist. Vivienne barely looked at me. Brianna remained hostile towards me while Dominic couldn't care less about the wedding plans.

When they finally rise to leave, the tension slides off my shoulders like a coat.

Jane and Vivienne are the first to leave so I walk them to the door.

"Mrs. Caldwell," I say quietly. "I just want to apologize again. For the car, for all of it. I was young and immature and I handled things badly."

Vivienne stops. She turns and looks at me slowly, top to bottom, the way you'd assess something you weren't sure was worth your time.

Then, she steps out without a word.

Right.

Dominic and Brianna follow. I hold the door and keep my expression neutral, and I think I’m finally home free—until Dominic stops mid-step.

"Babe, wait for me in the car," he says. "I need a minute."

Brianna pauses.

Her eyes move to me, then back to him. Something passes across her face that she smooths over quickly. She leans up then kisses his cheek before walking out.

Message received.

Dominic faces me. It's been five years since the last time we'd stood this close, and right now he's wearing the same expression he used to when he thought he had the upper hand.

"Whatever game you're playing," he says, "quit while you're ahead."

I stare at him. "I'm sorry?"

"You think I don't know why you're here? Working for my father, of all people? You're obviously still obsessed with me."

I almost laugh.

"Dominic, I didn't know Nathan was your father. I didn't connect the name. Which, if you think about it, is pretty solid proof that you haven't crossed my mind once in five years."

His eyes narrow at me. "I don't believe you."

"I don't need you to." I met his gaze and hold it. "But I'd appreciate it if you remembered that I'm here to do my job."

He smirks cockily to himself.

"Oh I'll remember plenty," he says. "You keyed my car. You dumped coffee on me. You've got a tab, Leah, and I collect."

Then, he walks out and leaves.

What an arrogant loser.

I'd always had spectacularly bad luck with men. Not the unlucky-in-love kind that sounds romantic. The genuinely, cosmically terrible kind.

Dominic was actually the second act.

The first had been Diego.

The thought of his name alone sends shivers down my spine.

I was eighteen back then when Diego and I had dated.

He was nineteen and the first boy who'd ever paid me attention. I was in senior year in Atlanta, and I fell fast because I was naive.

It took me six months to understand who he actually was. Diego was part of a gang and was a drug dealer, and he'd started bringing me along to his operations like I was a piece of furniture.

When I told him I was done, he refused to let me go.

I spent one week terrified, and then I made the call to the police that got him arrested. Afterwards, I packed my bag, got on a bus to New York, and never looked back.

I'd rebuilt myself from nothing in this city. I'd worked for it through college and through every job till I grew to be this version of Leah Elliot.

If I'd survived Diego, I could survive Dominic playing petty office games.

I straighten my bag on my shoulder and walk out into the afternoon, telling myself the same thing again and again.

But what I don’t realize is that by the next day, Dominic is already ten steps ahead, making sure he keeps his petty promise.

He's appointed VP of Strategic Projects, which means access to Nathan's calendar, his project pipeline, and unfortunately, it was all through me.

My office phone rings at half past two on Dominic’s first official day and I pick up on the second ring with much hesitation. "Nathan Harrington's office, this is Leah."

“I need the Laurent Tech Group deck pulled and on my desk by three.” He offers no greeting and no name.

"Mr. Harrington—"

"Dominic," he cut in, and I could hear the smile in it. "We're practically family, Leah. No need to be so formal."

I roll my eyes as the line ends, and anger slowly seeps into me. I have no choice but to do as I’m told. I pull up the files, print the deck, and walk it down to the twelfth floor.

His office was a corner unit, all floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Midtown. It was well furnished and spacious, though not quite as large as Nathan’s.

The interior décor screamed Dominic. A monochrome color scheme ran through the space and there were about three different portraits of himself, including a painted one, like he needed the reminder.

Tucked into the far corner of his office also sat a sleek gaming setup, completely out of place.

I set the folder on his desk, neat and properly tabbed, and turn to leave.

"Hold on."

He stops me in my tracks and I turn back to face him.

He flips through the pages aggressively, then when he gets to the third section, he pauses.

"This formatting is wrong."

I'm quick with my reply, "The template I used was the standard one from the shared drive."

“Well, it’s wrong.” He lifts the folder, then tosses it into the small trash bin beside his desk. “Unsatisfactory. Start again.”

I bite back a string of curses, glaring at him. It isn’t wrong. The margins are clean, the data is correctly sourced, the layout consistent with every document that’s gone through this office.

But I pick it up, smooth my expression and say, “Of course.”

I redid it. He approved it thankfully without comment but that was only the beginning.

He made sure to make my work ten times more difficult after that.

He asked for urgent files as late as thirty minutes before the workday closed. He sent emails at midnight that required my immediate attention and he also requested several last-minute meetings with little notice and even less purpose.

I handled everything without complaint, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't kick him in the ass if I ever got the chance.

Dominic really is on my last nerve.