Dom (Alliance, #3)

by S.J. Tilly

Between the last knuckle and the bottom of my fingernail are the words Til Death.

“I asked you and you said no.” “Is that your argument?” My eyes widen. “If the question had been will you wear my ring, or would you prefer I tattoo your whole-ass finger like a psycho, my answer would’ve been a little different.”

“You. Are. My. Wife.” He punctuates each word with a step, stopping directly before me. “And people need to know that. If I can’t trust you to wear a ring, I’ll mark you myself for everyone to see.”

“You couldn’t just put your name once?” I ask, knowing I’d still be pissed about that. But the whole finger…? “Four.” He leans closer. “One to replace every other dick you’ve touched.”

“Four men! You did this because, at the age of twenty-five, I’ve been with a total of four men.” Dom crosses his arms. “They’ve touched what’s mine.” “Yours?” I scoff. “You tricked me into this. Into all of this.” “Doesn’t make you any less mine.”

“How many vaginas have you stuck your stupid cock in? I bet it’s more than fucking four.” The side of his mouth tips up. “It’s more than fucking four.” I clench my jaw. “I’m going to kill you.”

I would never do something like this. But—and I can hardly even believe I’m thinking this—I’ve always wanted a tattoo. I’m just too frugal. And I’m not decisive enough. And I never wanted to deal with the pain.

“How did you even do this? Did you drug me again?” Dominic turns to face me. “I wasn’t going to let you feel the pain.” My outraged retort withers in my throat. What sort of answer is that?

“I can’t believe I have to say this,” I grumble. “You can’t drug me again. That can’t be healthy.” “I know what I’m doing.” Great. The man I married knows how to drug people. How comforting.

“Dom, that’s not an answer.” “I prefer you calling me Dominic.” “I prefer you when you aren’t drugging me and scratching your name into my skin.”

This isn’t the time for me to worry about Valentine. I don’t have space right now to think about the way her face paled when I told her we were going to a funeral. There’s no point in asking her if she’s okay. She’s not.

Val is sitting in the back seat with me, staring up at the cathedral. Trembling.

“I know you don’t want to be here, but you’re coming in as my wife. Everyone knows who you are, so you won’t need to introduce yourself. They know our marriage was quick, but they believe it was a whirlwind romance.” She turns her head, finally meeting my gaze. “So did I.”

From the first time I ever saw her, one look at those golden-brown eyes and I could see she was full of life and energy. But not today. Today they’re dull. And if the heart inside my chest hadn’t already been turned into a diamond through decades of pressure, the expression on her face would break it.

I hate funerals. I hate them so much. My fingers squeeze Dominic’s. He might be my enemy in this battle I didn’t know we were fighting, but he’s also the closest thing I have to a friend here. And if he makes me sit alone… I tug on his hand.

“Will…” My lips tremble, and I press them together for a second. “Will you sit with me?” When he doesn’t answer me, my eyes fill with tears.

“Angel.” His voice is soft. The voice I used to know. A thumb brushes across my cheek. “You’ll always be seated at my side.” He cups the side of my face with his warm hand, holding me still as he presses his lips against my forehead.

“You can be sad in there. You can let people see your beautiful heart. Let them love you.” Dom brushes another tear away. “But we’re walking in with our shoulders back. Because those people in there need to believe in us. And we’re stronger together.” I want to hate him so badly.

When I look up to meet Dom’s bright blue gaze, I see that familiarity I heard a moment ago. It hurts to see it. A reminder of what I thought we were building.

And I don’t care how toxic it is right now. I need the comfort of him. I need someone.

The side of his mouth pulls into the smallest smi...

There are so many people here. Hundreds. It’s like my dad’s funeral. A woman smiles at me when my eyes fall on hers. I give her a small smile back, my throat tightening even more. A stranger just smiled at me. This is nothing like my dad’s funeral.

“Aunt Dina.” Dominic holds out his hands, and she clasps them. “I want you to be the first to meet my wife.” What is he doing? Introductions now?

The woman steps forward, and before I can react, she wraps me in a hug. I freeze. For one heartbeat, I freeze. Then I feel her body trembling against mine, and I hug her back. Holding her tight. Because this is a clinging hug. One without reservations. One that’s more than a greeting. It’s… real. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper as tears drip off my lashes. “I’m so sorry.”

I release my grip on her, only for her to place her hands on my cheeks. “Bless you, sweet girl.” She kisses one of my cheeks, then the other.

They all stand. And they’re all looking at me. I swallow. And look back. Feeling the weight of the moment deep in my soul. Dominic lowers his arm from my shoulders, sliding his hand down the length of my arm until his fingers are twined with mine.

The emotions in this place… The feelings in this place… Still clutching Dom’s hand with my left, I reach my right hand up to rub at my chest. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. This sense of family. Of acceptance.

I squeeze Dom’s fingers. My first true feelings of being unwanted. I try to forget. Sitting alone in a small chapel in Florida. My dry eyes staring at the silver urn on an unadorned stool at the front of the room. Another tear escapes the corner of my eye. Walking out into the sun, still alone. More alone than before.

How different would I be if I hadn’t felt so… so fucking alone when I needed people the very most? How different would I be if I’d had someone to hug when my parents died? How different would it feel to mourn with someone?

And it feels awful. It feels so lonely and cold. And endless. Like it will be my forever.

I want to hate him. He settles his left hand on top of our combined ones. I want to hate him, but I can’t. His body leans into mine, and he presses his mouth to the top of my head. A kiss. A sign of affection. It’s exactly what I need, but it’s still too much.

I want to hit him as hard as I can. I want to scream at him. And I want to tell him everything. I want to tell him about my mother’s funeral. I want to tell him how horrible it was. How much it hurt. How alone I felt. How alone I feel. How I haven’t been able to shake that feeling. It’s been six years… Six years of feeling lost. Six years of hoping and wishing for someone to come in and save me from myself. Save me from the desperate blank feeling inside me.

the man at my side, the one holding my hands like no one has before, might be my husband, but he’s also the head of the Chicago mafia. And the people filling this room are his family and his men, and I can’t break down here. I can’t break down next to a mother grieving her son. I can’t do anything but cling to him. I’ll have to pick up my pieces later.

“We are under attack.” I pause, making sure everyone can hear every word. “Someone is coming after us. After our family.” I point at my cousin’s photo behind me. “And they will pay.” A rumble of agreement rolls up the aisle. “They will pay with blood. Because they came after us, and we won’t settle at an eye for an eye.” I look around at the faces before me. “We take a soul for an eye.”

“We will win because we have The Alliance. Because a good woman can change your life.” And I see it. I see her understand.

Dominic just made his family a promise, and it all hinges on me. The hope of all these people hinges on the fact that I willingly married this man and that our union will bring them The Alliance.

He shouldn’t have done this to me. Dom shouldn’t have put me in this situation.

Dom is still staring at me. Watching me. And since I can’t bring myself to hate him. Not completely. I do the only thing I can in this moment. The only acceptable action in a room filled with so much emotion. I lean in.

I feel her join me. Not just in this moment. Not just for show. But she joins me in this fight. And when she turns to the sea of faces, I witness their acceptance. Their acceptance of her. Of my decision to join with The Alliance. Of my promise. I squeeze her fingers in mine and nod. Then, together, we walk down the aisle and away from the sadness.

I understand now. I don’t like it. I’m not okay with it. But I understand it. It doesn’t fix anything, but being able to put a reason behind it all… it helps.

If my loneliness can help save even one person, it’s worth it. It’s more than I was doing with my life anyway.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Gonzalez.” I’m proud of myself for not flinching at him calling me that.

“You’re in the lobby. And you.” He points to the last man. “You’re in the parking garage. These are your positions when my wife is home. No one is in here with her. If she orders anything, you’ll collect it from downstairs and hand it to her at the door. Not a fucking foot inside. Got it?” The men all nod. “You’re here because I trust you to protect my woman. But if you step out of line, I’ll kill you my-fucking-self.”

As the men file out the door, a flutter of something close to affection tries to take flight in my belly. But then I remember that protecting me is just Dom protecting his connection to The Alliance. My shoulders slump as the door clicks shut, and I step forward, dislodging Dom’s touch. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I don’t know how to act around you.” He furrows his brows. “What do you mean?” “Because I don’t know what’s real with you, Dom. I don’t know what’s real and what’s a lie, and it leaves me…” I lift my hands and let them drop back down. “Stranded.”

“I told you one lie.” “One,” I repeat, already not believing him. “Yeah, Shorty, one.” Then he tips his head to the side. “Okay, two.”

“One, I wasn’t in Vegas when you asked if I was. But I was there by the time you landed, so that’s hardly a lie.” “That’s a lie, Dominic.” I catch myself too late and use his full name, causing his lips to quirk. “And two, there are direct flights from Denver to Chicago.”

“The whole airport thing. Did you somehow plan for my backpack breaking?” This must be what they mean when they say morbid curiosity. Because I want to know the answers. I feel like I need to know. Even though I’m sure the answers will only make me feel worse, not better.

“You cut my strap.” My tone is so put out it makes Dom smile. I jab a finger at his chest. “That was a perfectly good bag, and you ruined it.”

“I bumped into you, cut your shitty backpack, knowing that was the only way to get you to stick around long enough to talk. If your bag wasn’t broken, you’d have tried to run away from me at the first opportunity. And you know it.” I do know it, but how did he? “And it only took one phone call to a man I know at the airline to get your seat upgraded.”