Chapter 3

Clara

Dominic reached out and tipped my chin up. "What's with the attitude?"

Once, his touch would have melted my anger before I even knew why I was mad. Tonight, it was just skin against skin.

"Chloe gets rewarded just for existing," I said quietly.

He dropped his hand.

"A custom piano. All the toys she wants. And apparently, the best dad in the world."

He stood up so fast the mattress shifted. "Why the hell are you comparing our son to someone else's kid?"

"I'm just looking at what you say versus what you actually do."

"Jesus, Clara." His voice went dead flat. "Are we really fighting over a forgotten gift? Is Toby actually mad, or are you just picking a fight?"

I didn't argue. I just stared at him.

He held my gaze, his jaw tightening, before he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

"Fine," he sighed. "His birthday's in two days. I'll figure something out. A real surprise. We good?"

"Are you actually gonna be here?"

"Yeah. Obviously." The lie came way too easy. "Now drop it, okay? Go pack for Zurich. I paid for this trip so you could finally chill out."

He brushed past me, treating me like a stressed-out housewife who just needed a vacation.

I waited until he walked out, then went straight to his study and texted Sarah's lawyer.

The next morning, his crew gathered around our dining table. Bianca showed up early, wearing a blood-red dress.

Before I could even open my laptop, she leaned across the mahogany table.

"Since Clara's going to Europe, someone needs to handle the house and the banquet," she said with a little smile. "I don't mind stepping up."

A heavy hush fell over the room.

I'd managed the cartel's clean money and kept the peace in this house for ten years. A week-long vacation didn't mean I needed replacing. My staff knew what to do.

The guys exchanged nervous glances, then looked at Dominic.

He set his espresso cup down. "Bianca's gonna handle things this week."

My accountant shot me an alarmed look.

"Clara needs a break." Dominic didn't even look at me. "I don't want her worrying about caterers and security while she's out of town."

Bianca turned to me, her smile getting a little too wide. "Hope you don't feel like I'm stepping on your toes, Clara."

She said it with just enough sweetness to make me look crazy if I snapped back.

I closed my laptop. "Nope."

I pulled the heavy ring of house keys from my purse and tossed them across the wood. They hit the table with a loud clank.

"All yours."

Someone cleared their throat. Across from me, Dominic relaxed. He'd been bracing for a screaming match. My quick surrender gave him exactly what he wanted—blinding him to the fact that I wasn't just loaning out my keys. I was dropping them for good.

I pushed my chair back and walked out.

Dominic caught up with me in the hallway, grabbing my arm. "Clara. Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Tossing the keys like that. You're throwing a tantrum in front of my guys."

"Did you need something else?" My voice felt empty.

He glanced back toward the dining room, lowering his voice. "Bianca just needs a distraction right now. She's grieving. I can't keep her cooped up. So I let her plan the party."

"Just for now," I prompted.

"Exactly." He pulled me against his chest. "When you get back, I'm putting you in charge of the waterfront project. You won't have to deal with this house stuff anyway."

There was no waterfront project. Just another empty promise.

"I spent ten years running this place for you," I told him.

"I know," he muttered, kissing my head. "That's why we work. You see the big picture." He squeezed my shoulder, backing away toward the meeting. "Stop overthinking it. You wear my ring. Where else are you gonna go?"

I watched him go. He didn't wait for an answer.