Chapter 63: Hot Tub

Dorian closed the file. Look at that.

Personal development.

He was about to put it back into the drawer when something slipped from between the pages and fluttered toward the floor. He watched it land near his shoe and stared at it.

Technically, he hadn’t gone looking for that. Surely the universe couldn’t expect him not to pick up something that had literally fallen at his feet.

He bent down. It was a handwritten note.

Next payment is by the end of the month. You are on your own.

What the hell did that mean?

Dorian straightened slowly.

Payment for what? And who had written the note? Was someone threatening her? Blackmailing her?

Ah, fuck.

How was he supposed to ignore all of this? He had promised her privacy, and secretly digging into her life would be the exact kind of thing that would set her off if she ever found out.

Possibly send her running for the hills. And for some reason, that possibility bothered him more now than it had three weeks ago.

The woman wanted her privacy, fine but surely being an accidental husband with rights to regular Saturday sex should count for something right?

Dorian opened the file one more time. He slid the note back between the pages, closed the file properly and returned it to the drawer exactly where he had found it.

Then he stood there for a moment, staring at the closed drawer. Maybe he didn’t need to investigate.

Maybe he could simply make it clear that if she was in trouble, she could come to him. If he reassured her enough, if she trusted him enough, maybe she would tell him something voluntarily.

Something he could work with without breaking the promise he had already made her. That sounded considerably more honorable than secretly investigating his wife.

Dorian exhaled and forced himself to move on. He checked the remaining drawers and finally found the tampons Naomi had mentioned.

With the underwear in one hand and the box in the other, he left the room and headed back upstairs.

Dorian stepped into the room. "Hey..." he called out before coming fully inside, not wanting to startle her.

Naomi’s eyes remained closed. She had sunk farther into the hot tub, her head resting against the edge, looking considerably more relaxed. "This is heaven," she murmured. "I will be living here at least three days a month."

Dorian looked at her. "I could move you up here if you want. There are three master bedrooms on this floor."

"Naah, it’s okay." Naomi settled back into the water. "I could just borrow the tub." She had been living in his house for weeks now and still spoke about everything like she was a guest passing through.

As though she had to keep reminding herself that none of it belonged to her.

Dorian didn’t particularly like the reminder. "I’ve got your stuff." He crossed to the vanity and placed the underwear and tampons there within easy reach.

Naomi looked over. "Thank you, Dorian."

"You’re welcome." He leaned one hand against the vanity. "I’ll always be here for you."

Naomi’s eyes opened fully. He continued before he could reconsider what he was saying.

"Whatever it is you need, whatever hurts you, whatever scares you. I will be here. Trust me." He meant it.

That was perhaps the part he should have found worrying. This wasn’t merely a convenient thing to say because he wanted her to confess whatever was going on.

Somewhere between finding her bruised, watching her work herself half to death, the promise had become true.

If she needed him, he would be there.

Naomi swallowed. She didn’t quite know what to do with the words. "I’ll keep that in mind," she said softly. "But I don’t think a monthly period is a reason to be scared. Aren’t you making a big deal out of it?"

"Generally speaking, I mean."

She wondered briefly what had brought that on. "Thank you."

Dorian gave a slight nod. He was tempted to say more. Ask if there was anything else she needed.

Instead, he respected the line she had drawn.

"I’ll go rustle us something to eat."

Naomi’s eyes widened in horror. "God no!"

"I’m not cooking!" he said quickly. "I’ll just order some food."

"Right. I’ll join you soon," Naomi said.

Dorian nodded. "Don’t forget... twenty minutes tops."

"You know I can take care of myself, right?"

"I know you can take care of yourself. I just..." He paused, suddenly irritated by the fact that he couldn’t seem to find the right words. "I just wish you would let me take care of you more."

"Why?"

Why?

Because he wanted to. Because he hated the idea that something could be wrong with her and she would deal with it alone.

"I..." He looked away. "Just because..."

Even he heard how weak that sounded. His mind supplied Adrian’s voice from earlier.

I thought you didn’t want to get attached.

He had dismissed it. But standing there now, the truth landed harder than he wanted. Adrian was on to something. He was getting attached. He straightened too quickly. "I’ll just go out and get us dinner instead. Want me to pick you up anything? Ice cream, soup, anything?"

"No, I’m good." Naomi frowned.

What in the world was going on?

"Right... Be right back," Dorian said.

Then he escaped.

Naomi watched him disappear through the door and stared after him. "Well," she muttered to herself.

That had been strange.

*****

Richard stepped into the SMC building and immediately felt his mood lift. The place was magnificent. He slowed slightly as he took it all in.

This was what he wanted. Rooms where everyone important knew everyone else. Names that opened doors before a person even knocked.

The Sterlings.

The Kanes.

The Everests.

People who did not scrape by in the world. Richard felt something close to hunger. If he could rub shoulders with people like these, properly rub shoulders with them, his entire life would change.

Naomi had been supposed to be his way in. She would marry Callum Sterling. Become one of them.

And once she did, Richard wouldn’t be some outsider waiting for someone to return his call. He would be family.

Close enough to the money. Close enough that doors would start opening for him too.

Naomi was supposed to be his all-access pass to this world. Instead, the stupid girl had somehow managed to marry Dorian Heathcliffe in Las Vegas and derail everything.

A receptionist approached with a polite smile. "Mr Whitmore?"