Dominic (Made Men 8)

Looking back at the TV, Maria watched the group of the living rub zombie guts over themselves so they could trick the dead into thinking they were one of them.

“Something bad is going to happen, huh?” she asked.

“Just watc—”

The front door opening had a heartless Maria’s heart pumping.

Not having seen a car outside, Dominic couldn’t hide his shock seeing Maria sitting on the couch. However, the surprise quickly wore off and in its place was a cold chill that even Cassius didn’t miss.

“What are you doing here, Maria?”

She didn’t like the way the words left his lips, like seeing her was an inconvenience. It hurt a part of her pride, even if she was the one who had come here to extend an olive branch. And only if that was what she was doing …

Frankly, she didn’t know what she was doing, other than …

“We’re watching The Walking Dead.” She matched his cool tone, turning back to the TV and looking away from the man who she’d promised to kill the next time she saw him.

“I see that,” he grumbled, glancing at the TV. He had no more than put his eyes back on her when he shot a glance to the TV. “Cass, change the channel.”

“But the best part’s coming u—”

“Now, Cassius,” Dominic ordered firmly, storming into the living room.

“Gore doesn’t bother her.” The little Luciano shrugged, not looking away from the screen.

Maria, on the other hand, looked between the TV and Dom, trying to figure out what his deal was and what was so bad that was about to happen.

“I said, change it.” Dominic snatched the remote from Cassius before quickly changing the channel right after a gun went off. He then took a deep, calming breath and held out the remote for his brother to take in truce. “Listen, you can watch anything else right now, but not that, okay?”

Cassius stared up at him for a moment, then nodded as he took the remote.

Scrutinizing Dom, she watched him carefully walk back to the door. Maria wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but then she supposed it probably had a lot to do with her strolling in unannounced.

Getting up from the couch, she quickly followed behind him, afraid he was about to walk out the door. When he started taking off his jacket, she was relieved. Maria couldn’t help but notice the thin, black T-shirt he wore underneath that stretched over his broad shoulders as he slipped it off. It was his tanned arms, however, that had her staring. She had never noticed just how fit he was, since she always saw him with that infamous jacket on. She couldn’t quite remember if she had ever seen him without it, other than when he had given his suit jacket to her in the freezer, and he’d been wearing a long-sleeved dress shirt underneath.

Her palm itched to touch his bicep, to feel the muscles underneath. It was the first time she felt something other than … numb.

“What do you want, Maria?” he asked, hanging his leather jacket up on the coat rack.

Rubbing her hand down her dress, she smoothed the odd feeling away. “I wanted to talk.”

He didn’t even look at her when he turned to go into the kitchen. “Talk, or murder me with your heel?”

“Uh …” Maria glanced back at Cassius, who was watching a different murder program, back at the couch.

Following Dom to the connecting kitchen, she kept her voice low in the small house. “Maybe we should talk somewhere alone.”

“It’s all right,” he told her, opening the fridge. “There isn’t anything Cass hasn’t heard, and he’s not paying us any attention, anyway.”

“Okay.” She cleared her throat, not knowing where to start. When she watched him take out the milk and drink straight from the carton, she couldn’t keep her disgust hidden. “Ew.”

“Ew, what?” he asked, placing the milk back in the fridge like he hadn’t just tainted it.

“You can’t do th—”

“I just did,” Dom said before she could finish.

“That’s disgusting. Everyone drinks from that container.” Maria went to the fridge, wanting to throw it out.

“There’s more disgusting things that go on in a house with three brothers; trust me.” He snapped the fridge door closed before she could grab the milk. “Plus, this is my home and, clearly, not yours, princess. So, why don’t you go back to your castle and guard your own damn milk?”

The way he said princess reminded her how everyone else called her that. It sounded derogatory, and not the way he used to say it, making her insides heat up.

Dominic went to the kitchen table, pulling out the hidden Glock under his T-shirt before sitting down.

Frustrated, she contemplated just walking out the door—this definitely wasn’t easy for her. Instead, she took a seat in front him. “I’m trying to talk to you ….”