Blood Always Tells, Hilary Davidson [good book club books .txt] 📗

babe,” he said, scrutinizing her face. “You have no idea how much.”

He stood and reached for her hand, pressing his lips to it. When Dominique didn’t shy away, he leaned in for a kiss, but she snapped her head to the side so that his mouth slid off, like a foolish baseball player who couldn’t even make first base.

“You should try that line on your wife sometime,” Dominique said. “See if flattery really does get you everywhere.”

“She’s got a heart of stone. Nothing ever worked with her, and I stopped trying a long time ago. But with you…” Gary tucked one lock of her hair behind her ear. “Maybe I just need to up my game.”

Even the gentlest touch of his fingers antagonized her. The last thing she wanted was her carefully straightened hair messed up by a man she hoped to kick in the head before the day was done. She gave him a smile and turned her face to look out the window, hoping to bury just how fleeting and insincere that expression was.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” he asked.

“Why would I want to?”

“You’re still mad at me.” Gary’s voice was light, teasing. He knew he was stating the obvious, and it was clear he thought the whole situation was just hilarious. “I can tell.”

She glanced at him, wondering how a man who bore more than a passing resemblance to Bradley Cooper could be so pathetic. He was thirty-seven, but he still looked like the golden boy he used to be, back when he was on the U.S. Olympic boxing team, going for gold. Not that Gary ever did anything for his country, or for anyone else. He was a striver; she’d always known that. It was his strength and his weakness, and it was what she was going to use to break him.

“You’re not still mad about moving out of the condo, are you?” Gary asked.

“‘Moving out.’ There’s a euphemism for you.”

“What would you call it?” Gary’s dark eyes were all innocence.

“Is there a synonym for being tossed into the street?”

Gary sighed. “That wasn’t my fault. Trin forced that to happen. I had no choice.” His smile faded and he rearranged his face to look serious. “I know that sounds pathetic. I know you hate me, and you have every reason to. But, I promise, I’m going to make everything up to you. All of it, babe. You’ll see.”

Trin was Gary’s wife, an anorexic heiress whose sole occupation was, as far as Dominique could tell, showing up at New York Fashion Week every February and September to be photographed in outfits showcasing her flat ass and chicken legs. The rest of the time, the wife was alternately counting her family’s massive pile of money and cutting endless lines of cocaine.

“I like this place, actually. It’s a nicer building than the condo was.”

“Really?” Gary pretended to look around. “No doorman. No concierge desk. I’m going to hazard a guess there’s no pool or sauna or fitness club, either. What’s to like?”

“The company’s better.” Dominique let her words sink in for a moment while Gary’s brow furrowed. “Come on, let’s get into your car before I change my mind.”

Gary had parked farther east on Twenty-Ninth Street, since the building’s amenities didn’t include a driveway, either. His car was a five-year-old Mercedes-Benz in a shade of muted green that Gary referred to as “the color of money.” It had been a wedding gift from his father-in-law, and it was starting to show its age. That was Gary to a T, Dominique thought. Wealth and precious things surrounded him, yet there was something shabby about Gary, as if he were the poor relation who gathered the hand-me-downs. It didn’t make him any less attractive to her. The well-worn jeans, dark blue shirt, and battered brown leather jacket all suited him just fine. It was the fake Rolex watch on his left wrist that bothered her. When she’d met him, he’d had the real thing. It had disappeared around the time he’d sold his condo. The sad truth about Gary, Dominique realized, was that it would never occur to him to buy a nice watch without a designer name attached. He had to have the best of everything, but if he couldn’t secure that, he’d settle for a hopeless fraud. At his core, that was what was wrong with the man.

Gary took Dominique’s bag and stashed it in the trunk, then opened the passenger door for her. When he got into the car, he said, “Trin thinks she’s running the show right now, but that’s going to change.” Gary touched Dominique’s face. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Just watch and wait. I know you think I’ve been hit in the head too many times to think straight. But things are going to be different.” He turned his head so that he was staring at Park Avenue South, and his husky voice dipped lower. There was an unfamiliar intensity in it. “I’m going to make them different.”

“Sure you will.” Dominique didn’t mean to sound flippant. It wasn’t so much that she’d heard the words before. She just didn’t care anymore.

Gary inclined his head so that his eyes settled on Dominique again. There was a furtiveness in them, as if he’d forgotten she was in the car for a nanosecond, until her voice reminded him. “You still haven’t kissed me, you know.”

She gave him a look that was all cool innocence. “I don’t suppose you’ve filed for divorce yet?”

Gary winced. “You need to trust me, babe. Give me time.”

Time, sure. That was all he needed. She’d heard that song on repeat the two years they were together. It was one thing when the only obstacle was Trin. Dominique could deal with that. But she’d been genuinely stunned and dismayed when Gary suddenly decided to sell his condo, coldly informing her she’d have to find her own place for a while. That had stung, but mostly because the blow had landed