Chasing Heartbreak (Dark Love 6)

Dominic released his grip, and in a flash, I exited the room with my dignity.

There’s no chance in hell I’d succumb to his prediction.

And especially no chance of returning here again.

Dominic may have been sexy, and yes, I’d fantasized about him a lot since I first met him, but those preliminary thoughts didn’t consume me whole. I wasn’t in that deep, not enough to force me under a current with no chance of survival.

I was still able to swim.

Away from the chaos and away from the man marked as dangerous.

KATE

Present

“And so, then he says, what about kids one day?”

Eric’s high-pitched squeal causes me to distance the phone from my ear. With my thoughts focused elsewhere, I think of a reasonable response to calm him down.

“So, he’s thinking about kids? It’s not going to happen tomorrow,” I reassure him while scanning the area of the hotel lobby. “Tristan loves you. Don’t panic over something that isn’t worth panicking about now. You guys just got back together after a long time apart. Slow down and try to enjoy each other’s company.”

“That’s the problem. I’d love to slow down, but Tristan wants to move forward. He’s talking about commitment.”

When it comes to relationships, Eric dreads the ‘C’ word. In ways, I don’t blame him. Not that I’ll openly admit that. Just because it works for some people doesn’t necessarily mean it works for others. I believe we should all set our own rules in life, and conforming to society can only set you up for failure. Different people, different rules, and different relationships.

“Eric,” I repeat, willing to calm him down with my soft tone. “You love him, right? Just follow your gut.”

“My gut has gained ten pounds thanks to his cooking!” Eric’s shrill is enough for me to end our conversation. “I’ll be the laughing stock of Weight Watchers come fall.”

“Stop being dramatic. I have to go,” I tell him, noting the time on the clock on the wall above the concierge desk. “We’ll talk later.”

“You can’t go! And anyway, what are you doing? You’re so secretive these days that for all I know, you’ve joined the Parisian mafia and work undercover as some mob boss.”

“You’ve watched The Godfather way too many times,” I point out to him. “I have some urgent business to take care of tonight. We’ll talk later.”

I press ‘end call’ before he has a chance to say goodbye or quote lines from the movie with his terrible impersonation of Marlon Brando.

Keeping my phone in my hand, I scan the hotel lobby area with a flutter of anticipation in my stomach. A few guests wait patiently to be served by the hotel staff with suitcases beside them, waiting to check-in. Many of the guests are traveling couples looking far from exuberant. Their withered faces appear tired from their travels and accompanied with evident jet lag.

Dressed in my beige coat, which looks rather suspicious in this summer heat, I wore nothing but my newly purchased La Perla black corset beneath it. The fabric of my coat against my bare skin heightens the desire desperate to be fulfilled, causing me to bite my bottom lip to control the urges in this public space.

My Jimmy Choo heels click against the marble tiles while I circle the area like a lost puppy. Rechecking my phone, the screen is crowded with notifications but none of which I need at this moment, including many from Eric with Godfather memes.

I continue to wait for Dominic’s text informing me of his room number and attempt to distract myself with the surroundings. Dominic purposely chooses this hotel each time he visits, wanting a tastefully luxurious boutique hotel that still feels intimate, unlike the bigger hotel chains known for their high-occupancy rate and, therefore, people everywhere.

The hotel is located in the heart of Saint-Germain des Prés and just a short stroll to Notre Dame. It’s a popular choice amongst adults traveling without children, boasting contemporary-styled rooms with a private terrace. I’ve grown fond of the place, but perhaps it’s the memories attached—the secret rendezvous which occurs twice a year whenever Dominic visits Paris.

Behind the closed door, another side of me emerges. No one to judge me for my lifestyle, the way I allow my body to succumb to the one man who I purposely ran from years ago. Just the thought of it sends a warmth throughout me, teasing me between my thighs while I sit here amongst a crowd of people.

The thrill of our encounters has become an addiction, one so hard to break because as long as the secret remains between us, no one else will get hurt.

It’s our rules, our game, and we both win if played right.

Inside my hand, my phone beeps. Glancing down, my eyes wander over the simple text with the number two-one-two. The adrenaline kick starts like an engine ready to roar, and ignoring everyone surrounding me, I make my way to the elevator and up to level two.

When I reach the floor, the room is located in the far west wing. With each step closer, my heart starts to race. My body begins to tingle with an ache only Dominic can conquer. The memory of the touch of his hands against my skin comes to the forefront of my thoughts, making it hard for me to breathe without the slightest of moans.

The door comes closer and closer until I’m standing in front and staring right at it.