Chapter 93: Black Lace

Naomi smiled. "Perks of marrying a chef."

"Speaking of, uh... I’ll be speaking at a leadership forum soon, and I’d like you to accompany me."

"Oh?"

"But you must know, my ex-wife Camille is the anchor person. She’ll be asking the questions. That’s just it."

"Oh. Okay. Uhm... sure."

Then Naomi’s attention shifted past him. Her eyes landed on the television.

"What’s that?"

Dorian followed her gaze. The dash-cam footage was still frozen on the gray Audi. He had completely forgotten it was there. "Just checking my dash cam."

She crossed to the bedside table and placed the tray down carefully. "I’ll see you in the morning." She turned toward the door.

"Naomi?"

She stopped. "Hmmm..."

"Can you stay? It’s Saturday, so no harm done, right?"

"Of course." She shrugged off the thicker robe and placed it over the chair, leaving the black one on.

"That thing should be banned." Dorian pointed accusingly at the ridiculous piece of clothing Naomi was still wearing as he settled on the edge of the bed with his dinner.

Naomi looked down at the sheer black lace, then back at him with a pleased smile. "Glad you like it." She struck an exaggerated model pose, one hand on her hip and the other lifting dramatically toward her hair.

Dorian stared. "That is exactly the behavior that would get you fucked again."

Naomi laughed and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over herself. "You’re just weak."

They talked while he ate. Mostly about Gertrude 2.0, the thirty-seven-year-old sourdough starter had needs, feeding schedules and rules.

Somehow, the conversation eventually moved back to Tessa. Naomi had developed a new conviction.

She needed to talk to Jordan again. Dorian thought it was a terrible idea. Naomi agreed completely.

Then decided she was doing it anyway. Dorian set the tray aside, switched off the lights and pulled Naomi against him.

Her back settled against his chest, and one of his arms wrapped around her middle beneath the covers.

Within minutes, they both drifted off. The next morning, Naomi woke before Dorian. He was still asleep when she slipped carefully from beneath his arm, gathered her things and left him there.

She went through her usual morning routine, showered, dressed and headed downstairs. Breakfast came first.

Then coffee.

By the time she had eaten and made herself another cup, she was ready to spend a few hours in her home office dealing with Ginny’s wedding.

There were updated guest numbers to calculate, rehearsal dinner details to work through. She had barely started toward the office when her phone rang.

Naomi glanced at the screen.

Aunt Diana.

Naomi drew in a breath before answering. "Aunt Diana?"

They exchanged their usual greetings first. Then Diana got to the reason for the call.

"Could you come for dinner tonight? The kids miss you."

Naomi smiled. "Oh... I’d love to. Tell them I’ll be there. I was thinking I would see them tomorrow, but today works too."

"Okay then. I’ll see you. Take care of yourself."

"You too."

"Bye."

"Bye." Naomi ended the call. She was still looking at the screen when, almost immediately, the doorbell rang. She headed downstairs quickly and checked through the peephole first.

A group of men stood outside. She frowned, studying the faces until she recognized one of them.

Daniel.

Right.

Dorian’s friends.

The gaming marathon. Naomi opened the door, and the noise started before they were even fully inside.

"Morning!"

"Is he awake?"

"Of course he’s not awake. Heathcliffe considers Saturday mornings a day to sleep in."

"Move, you’re blocking the door."

One by one, they started filing into the townhouse. She was immediately swept into the chaos. One of the men stopped directly in front of her.

"You must be the Vegas wife!"

Daniel groaned somewhere behind him. Naomi laughed.

"I’m Naomi."

That apparently opened the floodgates. They started introducing themselves one after another, names coming at her faster than she could properly process them.

Naomi smiled, nodded and tried desperately to attach names to faces. Daniel shook his head.

"I apologize for all of them."

One of the men gave Naomi an appreciative look and grinned. "If I’d met you in Vegas, I’d have married you too."

Naomi laughed again. Daniel slapped the back of his head.

"Have some respect."

"What? I’m complimenting her."

A voice farther back added, "This is how people disappear."

Naomi was laughing too hard now to be offended. They were ridiculous.

"Dorian’s still asleep," Naomi told them once the introductions finally slowed down. "You can head up. I’ll go get him."

The entertainment floor was at the top of the townhouse, and there were far too many of them to fit comfortably into the elevator.

Some piled in anyway. The rest took the stairs, still shouting at each other as they went. She followed behind them for part of the way, then continued toward Dorian’s bedroom.

When she walked in, he was already awake. He had changed into a fresh pair of shorts and was pulling a T-shirt over his head.

"The maniacs are here already?" he asked.

Naomi leaned against the doorway. "If by maniacs you mean Daniel and your friends, then yes."

Dorian sighed. "They have no respect for civilized hours."

"It’s not that early."

"It’s Saturday." He walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. "I tried to get out of it. Wanted to make the most of today with you."

"I like the sound of that," Naomi admitted, smiling up at him. "But you boys don’t get to see each other very often. You need this. Unwind from all the hard work during the week."

Dorian made a thoughtful sound, although his expression suggested he was still considering throwing every one of his friends out of the house. "Hmmm... at least I have you before midnight." His fingers moved through her hair, brushing it away from her face before settling lightly along her cheek.

"Actually, I’m going out for dinner with Aunt Diana and the kids."