Page 75 of The Obsession
“Two?”
“Yes. La Riviera and looking after Peach.”
“I’m barred from La Riviera for now, and I never agreed to be Lil’ Peach’s nanny. I said I’d watch her when I was home, but I need money, Dom.”
He sets down his fork, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his wallet. He places a small pile of hundred-dollar notes on the table and nudges them towards me, before saying, “Here.”
I push them right back. “I don’t want your money, Dominic. I’m not a freeloader. I like to pay my own way.”
“It’s money you earned for looking after Peach yesterday,” he states, nudging it back towards me.
I purse my lips. “I already owe you so much. I haven’t contributed anything since I moved in.”
“You cook for us every day.”
I roll my eyes. “Big deal.”
“It’s a huge fucking deal, Emily,” he growls.
“Language,” I mutter, nodding towards his niece.
“You have no idea how good it is to eat real home-cooked food every day. That alone is worth its weight in gold for me … and for Lil’ Peach.” His eyes drop to her. “We love Em’s cooking, don’t we, baby girl?”
Baby girl.
God, this man is a walking, talking aphrodisiac.
Peach nods as she reaches for another slice of bacon. “I baker,” she murmurs.
A deep chuckle rumbles in Dominic’s throat. “See that? You’re teaching her things I never could. You give her the softness I’m incapable of giving.”
I open my mouth to argue, and he must sense it, because he lifts his bandaged hand in warning. “If you even think about saying I’m capable of soft, or you think I’m cute or sweet, I’m going to lose my shit.”
I press my lips together to hide my smile. Just because I don’t say it, it doesn’t change the fact that he has moments when he’s all of the above.
The basket of wet washing is tucked under my arm as I push open the screen door and head down the stairs towards the clothesline.
While I was in my room collecting my dirty clothes, I noticed the pile of hundred-dollar bills I had refused to take earlier was sitting on my dresser. I placed them back on the table on my way to the laundry because it didn’t feel right to enter Dominic’s bedroom.
He came outside a while ago, supposedly to hit the garage and work out, but when I spot the garden hose stretched across the lawn and hear the water running, I set the basket down on the concrete path and follow the trail.
It leads me behind the garage, and what I’m not expecting to see is Dominic watering potted plants …mypotted plants. The ones I kept on the front porch when I lived with Mick.
How the hell did they get here? And why am I only finding out now?
“Those are my plants,” I say over a gasp, and when Dominic hears my voice, his head snaps up with guilt clearly written all over his face.
He uses his free hand to rub the back of his neck. “I’ve been watering them for you to keep them alive.”
“How long have they been here?” I ask, stepping closer.
“Around the time you moved in.”
My eyes widen. “How did they get here?”
“In the back of my car.”
“Why?”
