Chapter 215: Missing Memories

Dorian moved closer again.

By now, Jordan was almost in the street.

Naomi remained at the doorway with her arms folded, watching her husband march the man backward with nothing more than questions and pure intimidation.

And she was oh so blessedly proud of him. Honestly, it was ridiculous how attractive she found this.

Jordan tried to recover whatever dignity he had left. "Mr Heathcliffe... if you would just..."

"If you were a man, a man with pride, a man with shame, you would accept that she wants nothing to do with you and just move on with your life." He kept his eyes fixed on the man in front of him. "And in case you didn’t hear properly, unless Tessa comes back right this minute and says she wants you back, consider that a warning because if you hound her, stalk her or stress her, I will ensure she takes everything you have, own and value and then some."

Jordan opened his mouth. "Mr Heathcliffe..."

Dorian raised a brow. "Are you still here?"

Jordan straightened so fast it looked painful. "I’m going!" He turned quickly and hurried toward his car, got in and drove away.

Only then did Dorian turn back toward the house.

He strolled casually toward the door and the second he looked at Naomi, he caught the unmistakable glint in her eyes. "What?"

She looked impressed. "You are one incredibly hot counselor."

Dorian’s mouth curved slowly.

That reaction, he liked.

"Hot enough for a quickie?"

"You bet your ass." She grabbed the front of his T-shirt, pulled him inside and shut the door behind them.

Dorian grinned and slid his hands around her waist. "I should start taking note of things that turn you on." He lifted her into his arms and Naomi’s legs tangled around his hips.

"Yeah, you should do that more often."

Dorian started walking with her still wrapped around him.

She leaned in and crushed her lips against his, taking him in hungrily.

His hand tightened at her waist as she pulled him closer, and whatever smug comment had been sitting on his tongue disappeared between her mouth and the enthusiasm with which she was kissing him.

Naomi had always been expressive. She didn’t do anything halfway, and he knew that being on the receiving end of that intensity was dangerously addictive. She kept kissing him, which made navigating the house significantly more difficult than it should have been.

Dorian finally found the sofa. He lowered them toward it, but Naomi kept her legs around him, dragging him down with her.

They tumbled onto the cushions together.

Naomi giggled breathlessly beneath him. "Oh counselor...."

*****

When they finally arrived in Las Vegas, Naomi was already convinced the trip had been exactly what she needed.

Dorian, naturally, claimed he had known that before she did.

They checked into their hotel and agreed they should rest for a little while before going anywhere, which had sounded like a sensible right up until they were fucking like bunnies again.

Rest never happened. By the time they finally left the room, the sheets were a disaster.

Naomi had accused him of being the reason they were running behind schedule.

Dorian had informed her that she had participated enthusiastically.

Neither argument went anywhere.

After that, they headed out onto the Strip with no real plan beyond enjoying themselves. Las Vegas was loud.

They eventually stopped at the Eiffel Tower Experience, and Naomi immediately insisted they had to go up.

The viewing deck gave them a sweeping look across the Strip, the city stretching out beneath them in glittering lines of hotels while the Bellagio fountains danced across the road below. Naomi decided it was romantic enough to justify several photographs while Dorian complained.

They went shopping where Naomi bought something for the entire Heathcliffe family.

At one point, Dorian simply followed behind her carrying things and reminding her for what had to be the seventh time that there were many other activities he would rather be doing.

Most of them, according to him, fell under the general category of reproduction. By dinner, they chose a restaurant with fountain dining, where they could sit together watching water rise and fall against the lights outside.

Vegas itself brought them back to the beginning.

Their beginning.

Eventually they decided to retrace their steps as much as they could. Maybe something would jog their memory.

After dinner, they walked in the general direction of the club where they had met that first night, trying to reconstruct whatever two intoxicated strangers had done before somehow ending up legally married.

As they walked, the conversation slowly moved away from the past and into their future. The one they were choosing.

They talked about children. They never reached an agreement on how many they wanted. They moved to Chef Bennett.

Naomi had signed the lease for the building, which meant once they returned to New York, the real work would begin.

A space that finally belonged to Chef Bennett rather than something rented temporarily.

Dorian listened while she talked, occasionally offering suggestions.

The house came next. The paperwork and final process would take roughly another month, but neither of them seemed bothered by that anymore.

They had finally picked it.

Somewhere along the walk, Naomi realised she hadn’t thought about her problems at all. Maybe that was what Dorian had wanted when he brought her here.

Not to erase the darkness.

Just to remind her there was life outside it.

They were still talking when Naomi suddenly stopped.

She pointed across the street. "There."

Dorian followed her gaze to a chapel.

Naomi’s eyes widened. "You think?"

"One way to find out."

They hurried there, both laughing now at the possibility that they had somehow stumbled across another piece of their missing night, and met an officiant.

Naomi gave the man their full names and the date of their accidental wedding, then explained that they were hoping to speak to whichever minister had performed the ceremony.

The clerk checked the information she provided, disappeared for a few minutes and eventually returned with enough confirmation to send them farther inside.

Soon, Naomi and Dorian were standing in front of a man who said he had been the one who married them.

Naomi immediately brightened.

Dorian, standing beside her with one hand resting casually at her waist, looked considerably more skeptical.

Naomi smiled awkwardly. "I’m sorry. We are not stalkers, believe me. We are quite happily married, but we don’t seem to remember anything about that night. We were hoping you could fill in the gaps. We remember meeting. Sort of. And obviously we remember waking up afterward because..." She gestured between herself and Dorian. "Well, you get my point. But everything between the hotel room and waking up is basically gone."