Chapter 115: A Stalker

It had been a while since Dominic had seen Andrew.

Or heard from him, for that matter.

Apparently, refusing to speak to Andrei on Andrew’s behalf had finally accomplished what months of arguments hadn’t.

Andrew disappeared.

His contract with the Sebastian project had already ended when the joint development was discontinued, and whatever access he’d once enjoyed through Dominic disappeared along with it.

For a while, Dominic had wondered whether Andrew would call.

He didn’t.

Eventually, Dominic stopped wondering.

It was probably for the best.

His life had become considerably quieter without Andrew constantly appearing beside him with another problem that somehow required someone else’s money, influence, or intervention to solve.

Dominic had enough problems of his own.

He didn’t need to adopt another adult’s.

Which was why Andrew was nowhere near Dominic’s thoughts when food began disappearing from the temporary kitchen at the gallery.

The renovations weren’t finished yet, and workers still moved in and out during the day. Dominic kept drinks and snacks in a small refrigerator near the back, mostly because he’d developed the unfortunate habit of forgetting lunch whenever he painted.

Sometimes there would be half a sandwich left.

The next day, it would be gone.

A bottled drink disappeared once too.

Dominic assumed one of the workers had taken them.

He didn’t particularly care.

If someone was hungry enough to steal yesterday’s sandwich, they probably needed it more than he did.

Then something crashed in the kitchen.

Dominic looked up from his canvas.

He’d been painting with his noise-canceling headphones resting around his neck rather than over his ears, which was probably the only reason he heard it.

Another sound followed.

Dominic put down his brush and stood.

"Everything okay?"

No answer.

He walked toward the temporary kitchen.

Then stopped in the doorway.

Andrew was crouched in front of the open refrigerator.

For several seconds, neither man spoke.

Andrew slowly straightened.

Dominic looked at him.

Then at the refrigerator.

Then at the bottle in Andrew’s hand.

"Well."

Andrew swallowed.

"Dom."

"Interesting."

"I can explain."

"I certainly hope so. Because right now, my leading theory is that unemployment has somehow turned you into a raccoon."

Andrew’s expression tightened.

"I was hungry."

"So you broke into my gallery?"

"I didn’t break in."

Dominic glanced toward the door.

"You entered without permission and started rummaging through my refrigerator."

"The back door was open."

"Ah. My mistake. Apparently that makes the refrigerator public property."

Andrew put the bottle down.

"I came to see you."

"Through the kitchen?"

"You weren’t answering my calls."

Dominic frowned.

"You called?"

"A few times."

He genuinely hadn’t noticed.

That was surprisingly satisfying.

Andrew looked thinner than Dominic remembered. His clothes were still carefully chosen, but some of the polish had disappeared.

Once, that would’ve immediately made Dominic concerned.

Now his first thought was considerably less charitable.

"What happened to you?"

Andrew stared at him.

"You’re asking me that?"

"Yes."

"You abandoned me."

Dominic almost laughed.

"I abandoned you?"

"You stopped helping me. You wouldn’t even speak to Andrei."

"Because Andrei didn’t want to renew your contract."

"You could’ve changed his mind."

"No, I couldn’t."

"You didn’t even try."

"There it is."

"What?"

Dominic leaned against the doorway.

"The part where your problem becomes somebody else’s responsibility."

Andrew’s face changed.

Dominic continued before he could interrupt.

"You wanted me to talk to Andrei because you needed a job. Before that, you needed somewhere to live. You needed transportation. You needed access to places you couldn’t afford on your own."

"That’s not fair."

"Isn’t it?"

"I was with you because I loved you."

Dominic went quiet.

There had been a time when those words would’ve worked remarkably well.

Apparently, therapy was expensive for a reason.

"Then why are you stealing my lunch?"

Andrew flushed.

"I told you. I came to see you."

"And I apparently wasn’t available, so you decided to eat?"

"I didn’t know how long you’d be."

Dominic stared at him.

The absurdity of the answer almost impressed him.

"What do you want, Andrew?"

Andrew hesitated.

That was enough.

"Money?"

"No."

"A job?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I need help."

Of course.

Dominic rubbed his forehead.

"With what?"

"The wedding coordinator."

That brought his hand down.

"What about him?"

"He’s threatening me."

Dominic’s expression hardened.

Andrew hurried on.

"He says I owe him money. He keeps saying he’ll sue me, and if I don’t pay, he’s going to tell people what happened."

"What happened?"

Andrew looked away.

Dominic waited.

"What exactly is he threatening to tell people?"

"You know."

"No, Andrew. I don’t."

Another silence.

Dominic felt something cold settle in his stomach.

"The Marriage Bureau?"

Andrew didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

Dominic stared at him.

He remembered Alexander waiting outside that building.

The photographs.

The humiliation that had spread across the internet before Dominic had even understood what happened.

And Andrew had been involved.

"How much of that was you?"

"Dom—"

"How much?"

"It wasn’t supposed to become that big."

Dominic laughed once.

Nothing about it was amusing.

Of course.

Somehow, even now, another unpleasant piece of his old life was crawling out from somewhere he’d failed to look.

Andrew stepped closer.

"I need you to help me deal with him."

"No."

"Just listen."

"I did."

"You don’t understand."

"I understand perfectly."

Dominic stepped away from the doorway.

"You need to leave."

Andrew stared at him.

"What?"

"Get out."

"Dominic."

"And don’t come back."

Andrew’s expression changed again.

The softness disappeared first.

Then the wounded look he’d perfected over the years.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Dominic almost smiled.

There he was.

Perhaps this was the first completely honest expression Andrew had shown him in years.

"You don’t get to throw me away after everything I did for you."

"Everything you did for me?"

"I stayed with you when everyone else turned against you!"

"You stayed until the villa disappeared."

Andrew’s face reddened.

"You think you’re better than me now because you paint pictures and go to therapy?"

"No."

Dominic considered it.

"I think I’m better without you."

That did it.

Andrew moved toward him.

Dominic stepped back.

"Leave."

"You self-righteous bastard."

"Andrew."

"I lost everything because of you!"

"You lost a job because the project ended. Everything after that was your responsibility."

"Fuck you."

Andrew reached for him.

Dominic immediately pulled away.

"Don’t touch me."

Andrew came forward again, faster this time.

His hand caught Dominic’s shirt near the shoulder.

Dominic shoved the arm away and retreated.

"Get the hell off me!"

Andrew lunged after him.

Then his shoe came down on something near the kitchen entrance.

His foot slipped.

The movement happened so quickly that Dominic barely understood what he was seeing before Andrew lost his balance and crashed hard against the floor.

Silence followed.

Dominic stared.

Andrew groaned.

For one ridiculous moment, neither moved.

Then Dominic backed away.

He didn’t approach him.

He didn’t try to help him stand.

Instead, he called for the workers.

Several people came running.

By the time Andrew managed to sit up, Dominic had already asked someone to call security and the police.

Andrew looked at him in disbelief.

"You’re calling the police on me?"

"You broke into my property and tried to attack me."

"I slipped!"

"Yes."

Dominic looked at him.

"After trying to attack me."

Andrew’s face went pale.

"Dom."

"No."

That name didn’t work anymore either.

Dominic folded his arms.

"You’re done here."

The matter dragged on longer than Dominic would’ve preferred.

There were statements to give, security footage to review, and lawyers involved almost immediately.

Naturally.

Apparently, adulthood was mostly discovering new reasons to pay lawyers.

Andrew was fortunate that his attempt to hurt Dominic had ended with considerably more damage to his dignity than to Dominic himself.

Eventually, Dominic agreed not to pursue the matter further after Andrew, through counsel, agreed to stay away from him and the gallery.

No visits.

No calls.

No conveniently open doors.

If Andrew came onto the property again, Dominic wouldn’t be nearly as accommodating.

The agreement was delivered to him at the gallery.

Dominic read it once before signing.

Then he returned to the back room.

His unfinished painting was still waiting on the easel.

For several minutes, Dominic simply looked at it.

Andrew had been part of his life for years.

Once, losing that companionship would’ve terrified him.

Now Dominic found himself listening to the quiet left behind.

No demands.

No crisis he was expected to solve.

Just an unfinished canvas and an afternoon that still belonged entirely to him.

Dominic put his headphones back on.

Then he picked up his brush.