Page 34 of Impulse Control
He laughed, delighted. “Rachel Manning, I would never insult you like that.”
“You’re also not staying any later than it takes to eat the pizza.”
“Of course not.”
Lips pursed because he was being far too agreeable. “And this is not a date.”
“Naturally.”
“If you’re not back before midnight—” What? I’d turn into a pumpkin?
“I’ll text you updates like a responsible adult.”
I shook my head, smiling despite every instinct screaming at me not to. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yet,” he said gently, “you’re still inviting me.”
I swallowed. “Fine,” I said. “One evening. Pizza only.”
“Perfect,” he replied. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Dominic?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t get lost.”
He chuckled. “I won’t. I’m very good at finding what I’m looking for.” The line went dead, and I stared at my phone, heart thudding a little too hard.
I told myself it was just pizza.
But I knew I was lying to myself. That call had been about so muchmorethan pizza.
Tonight…
Paris at night had a way of conspiring against all my good intentions.
The hotel wasn’t advertising its location—no marquee, no velvet rope, just a discreet entrance framed by stone and soft gold light. It held those notes of opulence the filthy rich relied on, because you shouldn’t just happen in. Dominic didn’t slow as we approached, just reached for the door with an easy confidence.
I clocked everything automatically. The doorman who greeted him by name. The hushed, polished calm inside. Marble floors that swallowed sound. Fresh flowers arranged with care added splashes of color even as they perfumed the air. The huge arrangements were exquisite and cost money. Real money.
I didn’t ask. I never did. Whatever Dominic had, he never whipped it out to impress me. He had money, it wasn’t a big deal. It was one of his more attractive traits.
“Well,” I murmured, glancing around, “this is… subtle.”
He smiled at that, amused. “You wound me. I was going for understated.”
“Five-stars for the understated,” I corrected.
He leaned closer as we crossed the lobby, voice low and playful. “You don’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that,” I replied. “I’m just noticing it.”
“Of course you did.” His gaze flicked to me, warm and intent. “That’s one of my favorite things about you.”
The elevator bank gleamed ahead, brass and glass and a large gilded mirror set into the wall beside it. Dominic slowed there—not stopping exactly, just… pausing. Enough to draw my attention without forcing it.
“Come here,” he said softly.
