Chapter 28: Privacy

He almost asked again.

Why do you work two jobs?

The question was right there. Dorian even opened his mouth then shut it. Every time money came up, Naomi changed.

A defensiveness appeared quickly. For now, however, he decided not to ruin dinner before he had even tasted it.

Naomi cut into the beef with a fork. The meat practically fell apart. She looked pleased with herself.

Then she picked up a piece, turned toward him and held out the fork.

"Try it and see if it was worth staying up for."

Dorian looked at the fork. She was offering to feed him. That felt strangely intimate. He reached out and took the fork from her hand instead then slipped the beef into his mouth.

Jesus Christ.

The sauce hit next, followed by the smooth purée underneath it. It was an explosion of his senses.

Naomi leaned toward him immediately. "Uhn? Uhn? Worth it, no?"

Dorian stared at her while chewing. If she would just let him finish for heaven’s sake.

"Uhn?"

Dorian nodded and gave her a thumbs-up. Naomi’s entire face brightened. She turned back toward the counter, clearly satisfied.

Naomi started spooning sauce onto their plates. He picked up a table knife and cut into another piece of meat.

"You should have your own restaurant."

"I went to culinary school, not business school."

"Doesn’t matter. You handle the culinary side and get someone capable to handle the business side."

"Can’t afford it."

Dorian put down his knife. He had tried. He really had. "Okay, that’s it. I looked into your finances, Naomi."

Naomi slowly turned around. "You did what?!"

The bright, laughing woman from ten seconds ago disappeared. Shock spread across her face. Then anger followed.

"I told you I had Adrian look into you already."

"Yes, but my finances?" Naomi demanded. "Why would you invade my life like that?"

The warmth that had filled the kitchen barely a minute ago disappeared. He put his fork down.

"Because I needed to know who you are!"

"Have you thought of asking?"

"I have been asking!"

She was standing there in his kitchen wearing those ridiculous sunglasses at two in the morning, as though darkness itself had suddenly become dangerous to her eyesight.

He reached over and snatched them from her face. Naomi gasped. "I asked about that." He pointed toward the bruise she had spent the entire day hiding. "Did you tell me anything? No."

Naomi reached for the glasses. "Give me those."

He handed them back.

"This is different," she snapped, putting them on again. "Stay away from my business. It’s my private life."

"You are my wife!"

There it was again.

My wife.

He really needed to stop saying that like it meant something beyond a certificate. She slowly folded her arms.

"Really? You want to play that line? A week ago, you didn’t even know you had a wife. I was just some woman you fucked in Vegas." She stepped closer. "Besides, isn’t there something in that contract about respecting each other’s privacy?"

Technically, she had not even signed the damned thing yet. Technically, his background check had begun before the contract existed.

Looking at Naomi now, he suspected explaining any of that would get the plate in her hand launched at his head.

"This is already a breach of contract," she snapped and grabbed her plate from the counter.

"Naomi."

She disappeared out of the kitchen.

Message received.

Stay out of her business.

Dorian sighed and sat down. He ate in silence for a while, but his thoughts kept circling back to the argument. He finished his plate and had another portion.

By the time he finally left the kitchen, he was sure it would already be 3am. He reached the guest floor and stopped.

Dorian stood there for several seconds, contemplating whether to go to her. He took one step toward the hallway.

Then stopped again.

What the hell was he even going to say?

I’m sorry. I’ll stop asking questions.

It was in his nature to ask questions. Questions were how he made his living. Someone told him not to look somewhere and every instinct he possessed immediately wanted to know what was being hidden there.

"Shit." He cursed under his breath, glanced once more toward Naomi’s room before heading up the stairs to his own floor. He was exhausted anyway. He stripped off his clothes, changed into shorts and dropped onto the edge of his bed with his phone. He opened his messages and typed quickly.

Cease every investigation into Naomi Bennett Heathcliffe effective immediately.

I won’t be coming in tomorrow either. Clear my schedule where possible.

He sent it. A few seconds later, the message showed as delivered. He tossed the phone onto the mattress and lay back. He had done what she wanted. He should have felt satisfied with the decision.

Instead, his mind immediately produced the image of her bruised face. He groaned and covered his eyes with one arm.

*****

Naomi balanced a tray of coffee and breakfast in one hand and held the contract file awkwardly in the other, using the same hand to knock on Dorian’s bedroom door.

It was already nine in the morning. She needed to leave for work soon, and considering what she had witnessed the night before, she wasn’t entirely convinced Dorian knew how to operate a microwave.

Leaving breakfast downstairs and expecting him to reheat it seemed unnecessarily cruel to both him and the food.

She had made thick slices of French toast, layered them with bananas and blueberries, drizzled syrup over the top and dusted everything lightly with powdered sugar. Beside it sat a mug of coffee prepared exactly the way Adrian had told her Dorian liked it.

A little milk.

No sugar.

Naomi knocked again when she got no response. Was he dead? She leaned closer to the door and knocked harder.

His sleepy voice drifted through the door. "Adrian, unless you want to die..."

Well.

Good morning to him too.

"It’s me, Naomi!"

"Get in here. Quietly..."