Chapter 90: Out of Sight

By evening, Victoria had confiscated Dominic’s phone, the liquor cabinet key and, after some consideration, the television remote.

Dominic objected most strongly to the first.

"This is ridiculous."

"Probably."

"Give it back."

"No."

"I’m an adult."

"Then behave like one without social media for twelve hours."

He glared while Victoria calmly slipped the phone into her handbag.

His therapist had already spoken with him remotely and arranged a proper follow-up. For now, the instructions were simple. Dominic needed to eat, drink enough water, get some sleep, and stay away from the internet.

Victoria had also been advised to reduce obvious triggers and contact the appropriate medical professionals if his condition worsened.

She took that advice considerably more seriously than she might have months earlier.

The alcohol was locked away, mostly because Dominic had developed an ugly habit of reaching for it whenever his emotions became too difficult to sit with. She also quietly removed a few things from his bedroom after remembering the staged crisis he’d engineered before.

Dominic noticed.

"Did you take my letter opener?"

Victoria kept walking. "No."

"It was on my desk."

"Then perhaps it walked away."

"Mother."

"You can open mail tomorrow."

"I have scissors."

"Not anymore."

Dominic stared at her.

Eventually, he muttered, "You’re insane."

"Genetic risk."

That almost made him laugh.

Instead, he sank farther into the sofa while soft instrumental music played through the speakers.

"You took the television remote too?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because every entertainment program will somehow find a way to discuss your hair."

"It isn’t national news."

"You’ve clearly never watched afternoon entertainment programming."

Dominic covered his face.

"Wonderful."

Victoria sat nearby, and for several minutes, neither of them spoke.

That was unusual for them.

Victoria was accustomed to fixing problems by acting. She called people, arranged things, and moved pieces around until the outcome looked closer to what she wanted.

That instinct had caused more damage than she’d admitted.

Even now, part of her wanted to call the websites and demand the photographs be removed. She could already imagine the lawyers getting involved and statements being prepared.

Then she remembered what their previous attempts at controlling publicity had accomplished.

Mostly, they’d given people more to talk about while costing Sebastian Group money.

So Victoria did something unfamiliar.

She left it alone.

At least publicly.

Dominic eventually fell asleep on the sofa, his head tilted awkwardly against one cushion while the glass of water beside him remained untouched.

Without the carefully arranged hair, designer clothes, and expression he’d spent years perfecting, he looked considerably younger.

That disturbed her.

She remembered him as a boy standing in front of the mirror before school.

"Does this look right?"

"It looks fine."

"Fine isn’t right."

Even then, Dominic had wanted to look like the person everyone expected to win.

Perhaps she’d encouraged that too much.

Victoria went to the dining table with her tablet.

If she couldn’t fix the situation, she could at least get Dominic away from it for a while.

He needed a change of environment, somewhere he wouldn’t constantly encounter photographs, headlines, or reminders of everything he’d lost. Preferably somewhere nobody cared that he’d once been CEO of Sebastian Group or insisted on placing Alexander Vance’s name beside Giovanni Mercer’s.

Victoria started searching.

Beach resorts were too obvious, and large international cities would make it too easy for Dominic to continue the same routine somewhere else.

She wanted somewhere quieter and private, far enough from home that he couldn’t simply change his mind and return the next morning.

Then she remembered something he’d once loved.

Painting.

Dominic used to paint before university and Sebastian Group turned nearly every talent into something that needed to produce a result.

He hadn’t been particularly brilliant at it.

That wasn’t the point.

He’d enjoyed it.

He preferred landscapes, although there had been the occasional portrait, and for a while Victoria had found canvases propped against nearly every available wall in his bedroom.

Then university happened, followed by work.

Somewhere along the way, the paintings disappeared.

Victoria searched for artist retreats.

Not therapy retreats. Dominic would refuse immediately if she presented the trip that way.

An ordinary vacation with opportunities for painting, galleries, countryside trips, and privacy would be considerably easier to sell.

Italy caught her attention.

Dominic liked architecture and art, and Tuscany offered exactly the sort of place she wanted. Old towns surrounded by vineyards, studios where he could paint if the mood struck, and enough quiet places where nobody needed to know who Dominic Sebastian was unless he introduced himself.

She started building a deliberately loose itinerary.

A few days in Florence, then the countryside. She found a private villa with enough space for both of them to avoid each other when necessary, and she could arrange for painting supplies to be waiting without requiring Dominic to touch them.

No business meetings or interviews.

Preferably very little social media.

That final condition might require negotiation.

Dominic woke shortly after midnight and found his mother at the table surrounded by open travel pages.

"What are you doing?"

"Planning."

His expression immediately became suspicious.

"That’s never reassuring."

"You need a vacation."

"No."

"You haven’t heard where."

"I don’t need to."

Victoria turned the tablet toward him.

Photographs of rolling countryside filled the screen.

Dominic studied them despite himself.

"Italy?"

"Tuscany. Florence first, then somewhere quieter."

"Mother."

"There’s an artist community nearby."

That caught his attention.

Only slightly, but Victoria noticed.

"I don’t paint anymore."

"You can."

"I don’t want to."

"Then don’t."

Dominic frowned. "What exactly are we going there for?"

"Nothing."

He stared at her.

Victoria smiled.

"That’s the point. No Board meetings, reporters, or plans to rehabilitate your image. We’re going somewhere quiet for a few weeks, and you can do absolutely nothing productive if that’s what you want."

Dominic looked at the countryside photograph again.

"I can’t disappear indefinitely."

"A few weeks isn’t indefinitely."

"What about my therapy?"

"We arrange what can appropriately continue while we’re away."

"My dermatologist?"

"We follow the instructions and come back for your appointment."

"My hair—"

"Is coming with you."

Dominic gave her a murderous look.

Victoria smiled sweetly.

"Unless it has independent travel plans."

"Not funny."

"A little."

He looked at the screen again, and Victoria could see his resistance weakening.

She knew better than to push too hard.

So naturally, she pushed once more.

"I’ll pay."

Dominic looked at her. "Everything?"

"Within reason."

"Business class?"

"You have a scalp problem, not a spinal injury."

"Then I’m not going."

"Fine. Business class."

A faint smile finally appeared.

Victoria relaxed, not because she’d won, but because Dominic had smiled at something that wasn’t bitter for the first time all day.

He pulled the tablet closer.

"How private is the villa?"

"Very."

"Does it have a pool?"

"Yes."

"Staff?"

"Optional."

"And good food?"

"We’re going to Italy."

"That’s not automatically an answer."

"It should be."

Dominic scrolled through the photographs until he stopped at an old stone farmhouse overlooking rolling hills.

A wooden easel stood near the open terrace.

His expression changed just enough for Victoria to notice.

She pretended she hadn’t.

"When are we going?"

Dominic glanced toward her.

"You already booked it, didn’t you?"

"No."

His eyes narrowed.

Victoria sighed.

"Not all of it."

"Mother."

"I reserved the villa."

"You said you were researching!"

"Research goes faster when accommodation is secured."

He stared at her.

Then, against all expectations, Dominic laughed.

Victoria sat back.

That settled it.

By the end of the week, she intended to have them both on a plane to Italy, where Dominic Sebastian could spend a few weeks being considerably less interesting to everyone around him.

Dominic was still studying the photograph of the villa.

More specifically, the terrace.

Or perhaps the easel sitting on it.

Victoria said nothing.

A few moments later, Dominic enlarged the photograph.

That was enough.