The Dominator (The Dominator #1) Read Online D.D. Prince

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: The Dominator Series by D.D. Prince
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Total pages in book: 206
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
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Since I’d heard all these stories I excused myself and went back upstairs with my coffee and left them in the kitchen.

Ten minutes later he came into the bedroom, looking miffed.

“Rule number two?” he said accusingly.

“Huh?”

He closed the distance between us and I backed up until my back hit the closet door. I didn’t like the intimidating vibe coming off him.

“Rule number two: do not discuss me with anyone. You give her even a little she’ll keep at you for more.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t. And are we still seriously about that?”

“That’s not what it looked like when I found you and Sarah in the kitchen and yeah, when did I say the rules no longer applied?”

Seriously?

I shook my head, “All she said was –”

“I heard her. I’m just reminding you.”

“I didn’t forget,” I said softly.

“Good.”

“Where’s your necklace?” I asked softly, seeing it wasn’t around his neck.

He rolled his eyes. “I took it off last time I worked out. This has nothing to do with the fucking necklace,” he snapped.

“Doesn’t it?” I asked.

He got even closer to me. “I don’t want you discussing me with anyone.”

“I wasn’t,” I defended, feeling intimidated by his body language.

“If I hadn’t come in when I had, what would you have said?”

“Nothing more than what I said. She obviously saw us in the kitchen last night practically doing it on the counter and she was fishing to hear good things. She knows how I felt before and she’s obviously just noticing the change. I wouldn’t have –”

He cut me off, “I’m very private.”

“She’s just happy for you, Tommy.”

“I don’t want you discussing me with anyone.”

“I won’t.” My heart sank. “You didn’t mind what I said to Ruby.”

His expression softened and he touched my face with his fingertips.

“I did nothing wrong.”

“Your father will be here in half an hour. Are you coming to talk to him?” He changed the subject but kept caressing my face, his eyes warm and filled with apology.

I nodded. “I don’t know what I’ll say. Maybe I’ll just see what he has to say. Can you put your err…necklace on, please?”

Tommy pulled me close. “I love you,” he whispered into my hair.

I squeezed. “I love you, too.”

He moaned deep in his throat and held me for a minute. “I could say that a thousand times a day to you just to hear you say it back.”

My heart swelled. “I’ll say it back every time.”

He gave me another squeeze. “I’ll come get you when I’m done talking to him. Don’t give him any information, okay? About anything. And Tia, I’ve checked and he’s spending about half his paycheck every week on drugs. His girlfriend, she’s a kindergarten teacher and she likes to get high, too. Since being with him she’s now got a lien on her car, which he drives, her credit cards are racked up with cash advances, and she’s on probation at work for missing too much time. I’m not sure how much we can trust what comes out of his mouth and this might be pointless, but I at least want to hear from him, okay? And I want you to hear from him, so you can get your answers.”

Drugs. Great.

I nodded.

He went to the dresser and put his necklace on. I followed him downstairs and as he headed to his office, I headed to the games room in the basement to play Ms. Pacman to pass the time waiting for Tommy to come get me.

Hearing love in her voice and hearing her say those three words after having her I hate you etched in my brain… it did something to me. It gave me strength. I’d need that strength in the coming weeks as I kept digging through the shit about Pop; that was for sure.

Nino escorted O’Connor in. He sat down, mouth twitching nervously. I hadn’t told him in advance of the meeting, just sent Nino to get him from his job. He looked freaked out. Rightly so.

“O’Connor.”

“How are ya, Tommy? Good to see ya. How’s my sweetpea?”

I gave him a sour look. That he would call her “My” anything made me sick.

“Not thrilled that you’re here; I’ll say that. Drink?” I poured myself a whiskey.

“Yeah, please. Thanks.” He shifted around in the chair. He reminded me a little of Denis Leary.

He was clearly nervous. Or he was tweaking from withdrawals.

“I wanted to ask you some questions about the death of Tia’s mother.”

He accepted the whiskey and drank it with shaky hands. “Yeah. It’s still raw. Hard to believe sometimes that she’s really gone. Mind if I smoke?”

“Yeah, I do mind, actually. Tell me about that day. Tell me about before you left her at home and about when you got back that day. Be truthful. I’ll check out your story. Don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t come across well in this story, unfortunately,” he said, putting his cigarette package back into his pocket with a sigh.



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