Page 55 of Hard Bargain

Cassian leaned back in his chair beside him. “Oh, this’ll be good.”

Dominic reached for his fork. “You know how old I am.”

“I would like to hear you say it.”

A couple of cousins went quiet, sensing blood in the water.

Dominic exhaled through his nose. “Thirty-eight.”

“Thirty-eight,” Abuela repeated thoughtfully. “And not married.”

There was a brief murmur down the table. An aunt made a soft tsking sound.

He cut into his food, movements precise. “No.”

“No serious woman?”

His fork stilled briefly before resuming. “No.”

“You’re not getting younger,” one aunt added from the other side of the table. “You think you have forever?”

“I’m aware of my age,” he replied evenly.

Abuela’s gaze sharpened. “Then why do you act as if you have all the time in the world?”

Cassian lifted his wineglass. “He’s married to work,” he offered.

“That’s not a wife,” Abuela said flatly. “A man needs someone waiting for him. Someone who softens him. You come here, you eat, you leave. You carry everything alone. No female warmth.”

Cassian laughed. “Oh, he’s not missing female warmth, Abuela. Trust me.”

A few cousins snorted.

Dominic’s foot connected with Cassian’s shin under the table. Hard. Cassian sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Worth it,” he muttered, reaching for his wine.

A few more laughs circled the table before someone launched into an argument about the match. Within seconds half the table was shouting about formations and missed penalties, forks waving in the air, and the interrogation was over.

Dominic let the noise reclaim the room. He didn’t bother defending himself. They assumed it was about timing, or work, or him being too particular, and he didn’t correct them.

The truth was less complicated and harder to explain.

He liked women. He liked sex. He liked the spark, the first look, the tension, the pull of it, the moment it tipped into something physical. But the interest rarely lasted past that point. The second things began to settle and expectations crept in, something in him switched off. The excitement drained, and staying started to feel like a form of dishonesty.

There were women he saw more than once, but only the ones who wanted the same thing he did. The moment it became predictable, he was already halfway out the door.

He’d tried relationships when he was younger. It hadn’t worked. He didn’t want obligation. He wanted intensity. And the two turned out to be mutually exclusive.

His work fit him for the same reason. Every day carried risk, and no two situations were ever the same. It demanded everything and gave everything back. Relationships felt slow by comparison.

Eventually, coffee replaced wine. The football argument downgraded from shouting to smug commentary. Cassian insisted he was right, an uncle insisted he wasn’t. No one changed their mind. Dominic leaned back in his chair, listening, throwing in the occasional correction just to irritate Cassian.

The back door opened, followed by his father’s familiar voice. “Sorry I’m late. Lost track of time.”

His mother looked over her shoulder. “You finished?”

“Yes. Took longer than I thought.”

There was a fresh cut across one of his dad’s knuckles and sawdust clinging to the knees of his jeans.