The Sweetest Oblivion (Made 1)

After the fight, I’d gone back inside to retrieve my purse and found the lighter on the floor. It was his, with an ace of spades on the side.

I took it as easily as he took my sanity.

Climbing back into bed, I lay there and flicked the Zippo open and closed, filling the room with a flame for a man I shouldn’t have.

Before I snuffed it out.

“A woman is like a tea bag—you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.”

—Eleanor Roosevelt

“I’M GOING ON A RUN!” I yelled downstairs. A sleepy grumble sounded in the dark man cave before I slammed the door.

I liked to pretend I could leave the house and run in our gated community alone, but I couldn’t. So, I sat on the staircase and took my time lacing up my sneakers.

It was early—eight o’clock, maybe—and a couple servants were moving around, cleaning an already clean house. There was always someone here. When I married and owned my own home, I didn’t want servants. I wanted to walk the halls naked. Hopefully that would be enough incentive for my husband to agree.

A moment later, Dominic appeared, his thick hair mussed from sleep and his broody expression even broodier than usual. He wore a sleeveless t-shirt, running shorts, and shoes. I knew underneath there would be a gun strapped to his thigh.

Gabriella came around the corner, carrying some sheets. Her eyes brightened when she saw me. “Oh, good, you’re running! I’ll start with your room then. Your nonna yells at me when I go in hers earlier than ten.”

Her dark hair was in a messy pile on the top of her head, and her smile was infectious. I couldn’t help my own.

“Yeah, you’ll have to maintain a queen’s schedule with her.”

Gabriella had vivacious good looks and a coquettish personality. I’d wondered if the men in my family were taking advantage of it, but I knew I was wrong as she walked up to Dominic—who was texting, go figure—stood on her tiptoes, and whispered something I could only imagine was dirty in his ear.

He never pulled his gaze away from his phone, but a grin tugged at his lips. “Later,” was all he said.

She dropped back to her heels with a shy smile, and then excused herself as she made her way past me up the stairs.

Him, too?

“Unbelievable,” I muttered once she was out of earshot. “You don’t even have to look at a woman to get laid.”

I received the tiniest bit of amusement from him as he slid his phone in his pocket. “Let’s go, before it gets hot.”

We ran the entirety of the gated community. I waved to Tim Fultz as we passed, who was getting into his car for work at the law firm. The rest of the properties were quiet, the people who could afford them spending half the year on vacation, or still in their beds with a small hangover and an expensive prostitute. I noticed Ryan mowing one of their lawns and a bitter feeling ran through me.

By ten o’clock, as we were within sight of the house, the sun beat down harder than ever. Sweat made a lazy path down my back, and my lungs burned. Jumping into the pool sounded better than any idea I’d ever had.

“I’ll race you home,” I panted.

“No.” Dominic maintained a steady pace, but his shirt was soaked with sweat.

“Come on, chicken.”

“If I were five that might have worked.”

“I’ll tell Papà where your stash of pot is.”

He blew out a sarcastic breath, shook his head, and then sprinted.

“Hey!”

With burning thighs, I picked up the pace until I was side-by-side with him. I shoved his shoulder for cheating, managing to push him over a step. Though, I soon realized he wouldn’t return the gesture, considering Papà stood on the front porch with an unfamiliar man, their eyes on us.

Nicolas’s car sat in the driveway, and when he stepped his big body out of it my heartbeat faltered, which created a domino effect of flutters in my chest.