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There’s a faint scent of pennies.
Brightly colored fireworks.
And then nothing.
Opening my eyes, I blink, my breath feeling trapped in my lungs as I gaze at Dominic. “What did you say?”
“I said I’ve got this.”
“Did you…” I blow out a shaky breath. “Did you call me ‘little one’?”
“No.” His eyebrows draw together in confusion just before a wicked smile peels across his face. “Why, do you want me to?”
I smack his hand away. “I’m serious!”
“Ouch! Shit, okay!” he says, holding up both hands. “No, I didn’t.” Pausing, he looks down at me like I’m a strange animal. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”
I shake my head, forcing the whole thing out of my mind. “Yeah. Look, can we just go. I don’t want to drag this out.”
Thankfully, Dominic doesn’t push back. Leaving me drowning in my own daze, he latches my suitcase and drags it off the bed. “I’m going to take this down to the car if you want to do a once over before we leave.”
I nod. “I’ll be right down.”
As soon as I hear the front door close, I climb to my feet and wander from room to room staring at empty space. That’s when the realization hits me. Even with my things gone, this place doesn’t look any different. Almost as if I was never here in the first place.
Maybe living so simplistically was a subconscious attempt to not put down roots in Chula Vista. Maybe I told myself not making this place mine meant there was still hope for me in another place.
A place that clearly never wanted me there.
But here I am, diving back in headfirst, trying to tame the beast, armed with nothing but a determination to succeed and a second chance.
At living somebody else’s life.
My skin crawls as the words sink in. Truth is an ugly thing. It’s a dull, rusty arrow that hits hard and mercilessly at the worst of times. I promised myself I’d leave everything behind. That I’d start fresh. That I’d leave Angel Smith and all her baggage in the past and commit to being Alexandra Romanov.
But what happens when the noise dies down?
Sometimes noise is the only thing that makes people remember you’re there.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DOMINIC
Every city has secrets. Some hide them better than others, but peel back enough layers, and you’ll find an underworld that feeds on the lust and greed of the very people who condemn it. That’s where I’ve spent most of my life—burrowing through layers and hiding a side of me no one knows.
If that makes me a hypocrite, so be it. But in order to end a reign, you have to incite a revolution. No one’s infallible. Everyone has scars. Sometimes, you just have to scratch below the surface to get them to bleed.
So, as I turn into a parking lot in West Hollywood, it’s anticipation of that first drop of blood that drives a premature pull of the trigger, ignoring the very instinct that’s kept me alive.
Angel sits quietly, a deep, vertical line sinking between her eyebrows. “I thought we were going to the Romanov estate. Where are we?”
I gaze across the car, soaking in her confusion as she stares up at the modest two-story building in front of us. It’s not much to look at, but that was by design. I’m a walking target as it is. The last thing I need is to conduct business inside an even bigger one.
“For now, it’s BTN headquarters.”
She tilts her chin, the line between her eyes sinking even deeper. “For now?”
Chuckling, I nod toward the simple white building. “Keep up, rookie. I told you at the café, you’re not the only one late on a few bills.”
