“I can’t do this. Not after how things ended last time.” With a quick duck, she spun out of his arms and hastily escaped down the hallway. His silence followed her.

Dom hated his phone. Every time it rang he wanted nothing more than to crush the puny metal beneath his perfectly shined shoe. It beeped as Felicity reached the top of the staircase. He’d been enjoying himself and the view of her incredible ass swaying as she walked. Just watching her made his cock harden. Damn, he craved her. He had been making plans on how to wear her down.

He knew what she wanted—him not to bond with Julianna. That couldn’t happen so he’d have to find a way around that. His only other choice, he decided, was to keep seducing her. The moment he touched her logic faded and only pleasure consumed her. She’d succumb to him soon enough, he’d make sure of it. If she didn’t he might go mad from lust.

Dom pressed the phone to his ear and barked, “What?”

“I got her.” Vas’s raspy voice came at him. The news did not bring Dom an ounce of the happiness it should.

Felicity peered over at him with curious, gorgeous eyes. God he wanted those eyes on him when he fell asleep wrapped around her, and when he woke up each day.

“Good.”

Vas let out a low, frustrated growl. “Where do you want me to bring her? You know this is more Grayson’s thing than mine, Dom.”

Yes, Vas didn’t much care to get out much. He much preferred his wallowing solitude. The vamp had a thing against crowds, or people in general. “Gray’s having troubles with Anita.”

“Gray’s always having trouble with Anita. He needs to cut her loose.”

“He loves her.”

“And she’s destroying him.” Vas’s voice turned low as he said something very threatening to someone else, then his voice came back on the line. “What am I supposed to do with Prim and Proper over here? Babysitting is not my fucking thing, Dom.”

“Bring her to the estate. Where did you find her?”

“Fucking Illinois, she jumped states on the run. It’ll be at least a day before we get there.” He sounded like meeting an impending death would be better than delivering Julianna Greenwich back to Dom.

“Just get her here safely. If you need extra men, call Grayson. He’ll set you up.”

“Right,” Vas said. With a click, he hung up.

Felicity’s eyes had lost their excited glow. “So you found Julianna?”

“Yes,” Dom said carefully. He did not want to talk about his soon-to-be bruid to the woman he wanted in his bed.

Felicity faced him with those sad eyes. Eyes that pulled at him, wringing his heart as if she grasped it with her little hands. “What will it take for you to cut me loose and let me go? I don’t want this job anymore. It’s become too hard.”

Dom flinched inside. Sadness laced her words like it hurt to say them. She wanted away from him. That knowledge created a ball of burning agony right at his heart like she’d just shoved a hot poker inside him. She might as well have. He’d much prefer that to her cutting words.

Dom went to her and cupped her soft cheek in his hand. Her eyes flinched and she looked even more sad, about to cry. He sucked in a painful breath. It grew difficult to breathe.

“I’m sorry about what I said before. I shouldn’t have been such an ass, but I can’t let you go. You and I both know that what we feel is different. This doesn’t just happen. I can’t let you go.”

Anger flashed in her pretty eyes and her round chin lifted. “Then leave her. You don’t want her. You want me. You can have me, but you know what you have to do.”

“I need to win this presidency. Not just for my father, or me, or to keep Zeke from taking it, but to help our people. There are serious reforms I want to make that will benefit us all.”

Felicity shrugged off his touch and stepped away. Cold instantly replaced the air she’d filled. “Yeah, save the speech for the voters. Listen, I told you before. I don’t do flings. I don’t do,” she waved a hand between them, “whatever this is. It’s her or me. That’s your choice. You can keep taking me from my home, from my job, or whatever else but my opinion won’t change.”

His nostrils flared; a bead of sweat rolled down his spine. “When I want something, I get it. I always win.”

Felicity’s eyes turned dead, any beautiful glow there gone. “Yeah, just like you’ll win this election alongside Julianna Greenwich. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have the most beautiful ceremony anyone’s ever seen when you mate with her.”

With that, she turned, raced down the stairs and flew out the front door. It slammed shut behind her. Dom let her go knowing his guards wouldn’t let her leave.

Slowly, he turned and went into his bedroom. Fists clenched, he let one fly. It slammed into the wall. Wood cracked and splintered, the echoing bang made the red haze in his eyes fade. But not enough.

Dom let his fist fly again.

CRACK!

The bite of pain at his knuckles alleviated a hair of the tension inside him. He hit it again and again and again...and again until he finally pulled back his hand to find it covered in blood and throbbing.

Only then had he calmed down enough to walk across the room to his bar. He poured himself the finest—Jouteax—a blood and wine mixture, his favorite. It used to be Anita’s favorite too. His stomach churned at the thought of his brother’s bruid making herself sick on it.

On the other hand, a positive memory surfaced. It was the same one he’d given Felicity the night they first met. God, he could still remember her eyes and body going all soft as if she was melting when she drank it. Her eyes had grown heavy with a seductive tilt. He’d scented a hint of arousal and it’d made him hard in a flash, so bloody hard. No one had ever had his attention in such a way as she had.

He’d known then that she’d be his.

Dom chugged a glass then another. He continued until he’d drank half the bottle. His mind became fuzzy and slow.

Sometime later, Dom opened his heavy eyelids. He was on the floor in his bedroom. He recognized the cast iron frame of his bed, the bottom of the nightstand next to it, and his door still partway open. He had no idea how long he’d been out, and he didn’t care. The languid heaviness inside him wouldn’t let him.

Heavy-footed boots came into his gaze. He squinted up.

“Grayson?” he rasped.

His brother looked pissed, his jaw clenched and working left and right. “Really? Now you?”

“Sen neden bahsediyorsun?” What are you doing, he asked falling back into his old Turkish language.

Gray shook his head. “That’s Luc that can speak Turkish.” He bent low at the knees. “Remember, I come from another mother? Mine didn’t come from Turkey, brother.”

Dom squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Gray. I’m shitfaced.”

Gray’s haunted eyes met his unblinking. “You think I don’t know what someone looks like when they’re shitfaced?”

Another low blow. Dom always managed to say the wrong thing to his brother. He always managed to remind him of his bruid.

“I’m sorry, Gray. I’m...sorry.”

Gray’s eyes softened then he curled an arm under Dom’s back and lifted him up. Dom found himself flat on his back on his bed. This was much better, he thought.

“What’s going on with you, Dom?”

The room spun and Dom closed his eyes since it made his body feel like he was spinning too. “What?”

“I said what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What’re you talking’ ‘bout?” He managed to pull open his heavy eyelids. Gray glared at him with an anger he’d only seen reserved for his wife. That happened only when she’d done something particularly stupid while drunk.

“You have something special with Felicity. I can fucking see it, and if I can see it then I know you’re feelin’ it.”

Anger came back swift and strong. “I don’t want to talk about Felicity.”