What's Left of Our Hearts

Cards on the Table

"What are you doing?"

"I was enjoying a nice glass of whiskey and conversation with new friends," Dom said, gesturing to the door.

"No, I mean, what are you doing here, in New York. What is all of this, Dom?" she said, hands on her waist. The pendant on her necklace glittered with the sharp rise and fall of her chest.

Dom maintained his outward composure, even though his heart rate was going uphill. "It is exactly what it looks like: we were in the market for properties, and you and I both know Sophie is one of the best in this city. I am not all-seeing, I couldn't have predicted that you would be working for her," he said, smoothing the front of his suit. I could have asked a private eye to look into your current whereabouts, though.

Her arms fell to her sides, and for a moment she looked as if she couldn't decide what to say. She opened her mouth and closed it again. Did she want there to be more, or was she relieved there was no other reason Dom would come back into her life? "Okay," she said after a long pause. "Okay," she rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry, I've been a bit on edge."

Because of me?

"And it looked like you were grilling Owen in there, so I got worried that you'd come here because of me, expecting..." she trailed off into a chortle like a car that wouldn't start. "Never mind. I am silly. Of course, you wouldn't," she said and met his eyes. There must have been something there that made her pause. "Dom?"

"Expecting what?"

Red blotches blossomed up her neck. She turned away and hugged her elbows. "I don't know," she waved her hand. "Forget I said anything. We should get back inside," she made towards the door as Dom took a step towards her. They were almost eye to eye.

"Expecting what?" he repeated, his heart pumping as if he were sprinting.

Clara's glittering eyes took on a sad quality. "I don't know. Maybe... maybe expecting to fix what we'd broken. But that's neither here nor there, and certainly in the past. We are both professionals, and I apologize for all of this, it was a gross misunderstanding, and it won't happen again."

"And what if you were right?" Dom said. He hated showing his cards, but he also didn't know when—or if—there would be another chance.

She took two deep, long breaths. Whether calming ones or trying not to hyperventilate, he couldn't tell. Finally, she cursed. "Damn it, Dom," she started pacing. "This is exactly what I was talking about. I don't know what you were expecting coming here, but I am with Owen, and I have a good life and I love working with Sophie and living in Manhattan and not being reminded of...." she motioned in his general direction. At a loss or whether she didn't want to say it out loud, she dropped her hand.

"Of me?"

"Not just of you." Her jaw clenched and unclenched several times.

"Then what?" Dom prompted, stepping even closer.

She looked up at him. "Of everything we had to leave behind," she said. The because of your family part went unspoken.

"Clara," he started towards her, and she withdrew just as quickly. Her reaction felt like a slap, but he'd gotten too far to forfeit now. "Clara, our parents have buried the hatchet. Don't you think it's time for us to do the same?"

She crossed an arm over her body, chewing her bottom lip.
"At the very least," he said, "consider that we will be working together for a while. Can't we try and leave the past where it belongs? Try to start fresh?"

She shuffled her feet, keeping her gaze on her sandals that sparkled like Aztec gold. How was she not cold? She must've been. Without a second's hesitation, Dom shrugged his coat and draped it over her shoulders. She looked up at him in surprise, caught off-guard. He was close enough to inhale nothing but her scent. Not just the perfume, but her. His thoughts were turning into mush.