CHAPTER 15

Dom

I wake up to the insistent ringing of my cell phone. I grope around the bedside table, my vision still blurred, until I find the device. My sister's name appears on the screen and I roll my eyes before putting it on silent. A flurry of congratulatory messages flood the device, but I ignore them. I put the phone away and, as I look at the empty space on the bed next to me, I notice Kiara's absence. I jump up. Where is she?

I hurry to the suite, but I can't find her. I splash water on my face, brush my teeth and go downstairs, annoyed by her absence. All the bedroom doors are closed and the corridor is silent. As I go downstairs, a sweet scent permeates the air. Following the scent, I find my way to the kitchen.

As I enter, I see Kiki at the counter, surrounded by molds and what look like failed attempts at cakes. The scene makes me smile. She's barefoot, wearing a short navy dress, the straps falling to her shoulders, shaping her body, her curves giving me pause. Her hair is up in a bun and her eyes are fixed, focused, as she ices a cake that seems on the verge of falling apart. The image of her like this, so composed and carefree, excites me.

I smile mischievously, moving closer. I give her ass a firm slap, feeling its softness under my hand. Kiki jumps and, out of fright, sticks the spatula into the cake.

“Dominique, the cake!”, she complains, bringing her hands to her waist in irritation.

“Don't worry, it won't get any worse than it is.”

I say with a smile, sticking my finger in the cake and tasting the frosting. The taste of chocolate surprises me. It's delicious.

“Did you like it?”, Kiki asks me, with a glint of expectation in her eyes.

Without answering, I pull her by the waist, place her on the worktop and kiss her eagerly. My tongue meets hers, and the sweet taste of chocolate mixes with her warm breath. I feel her body soften in my arms as she grips the back of my neck with her hands. Every time I touch her, my hard-on consumes me. My cock throbs with desire, my body burns and the need to fuck her here and now almost drives me mad. Fuck the fact that we're in Maurice's kitchen. I want it, and now.

My hand goes up to her chest and, in one swift movement, I pull down the fabric of her dress, revealing her breasts, the nipples hard and pink. Without hesitation, I take a piece of cake from beside her and rub it over her nipples. I pull my mouth away from hers and fall into her mouth, licking and sucking the chocolate that covers her skin. The taste is addictive. Kiki moans softly, digging her nails into my hair and pulling, encouraging me to continue. I suck harder, alternating between licks and sucks, while my hands explore her thighs, moving up the warm skin until she opens her legs wider for me. Her breathing quickens, her body arches, and her mouth returns to mine in a strong kiss. Before we can lose consciousness, we hear voices approaching.

“If you don't share this cake with me, I'll tell my father!”, Jolie's voice is far away.

“Do you think I'm afraid of your father?”, Blanca retorts, debauched;

I quickly move away from Kiki, putting her on the floor while she fixes her dress. With my heart racing, I walk over to the fridge, trying to disguise what was happening, trying to get my cock down. Kiara moves away to the other side of the counter, and we exchange a brief glance. Her face is flushed, her hair slightly mussed. She's still panting. Blanca enters the kitchen, holding a silver tray and chewing on a piece of cake.

“Kiki, tell her you made it for me?”, Blanca teases, but Kiki shakes her head.

“I can't say what isn't true. It was for Dom, and you stole it!”, Kiki retorts, crossing her arms.

“Stop being stingy and give the cake to the girl”, I jump in, laughing at the situation and trying to regain control.

“No! She's rude”, Blanca replies with a nonchalant tone.

“You who can't stand my truths”, Jolie refutes.

“Your lies, huh?”, Blanca says, seriously.

I let out a frustrated sigh, and, before the discussion can continue, I pull up a stool and show Jolie to sit down. I take two forks, hand one to the girl and sit down next to her, pulling the cake towards us, eating it.

“It's fucking great.”

I say smiling, offering a piece to Kiki, who approaches from the other side and tries it. She smiles, surprised by the result, and I can't help thinking that I can't wait to continue what started here.

After breakfast, Kiki went to bed, and I took the time to come to the gym when the guys woke up. I ran on the treadmill, controlling my breath and increasing my speed. This break has been good, but I keep thinking about what it's going to be like when we get back. I looked at my schedule, and this week I don't have time for anything. The only time I'd have to spend with Kiara would be during meals. Next weekend is Chérie's birthday, followed by another week full of meetings and a trip to London. And knowing Kiki as I do, it won't be easy to keep her close. As new and competent as the security is, I don't trust leaving her entirely in the hands of third parties. I've had plenty of proof that this hasn't worked. What's more, knowing that she feels watched and that she could lose control at any moment, as has been happening, are subtle signs. The nightmares, the day for night and the anxiety attacks... it would be easier if that son of a bitch of a detective gave me answers straight away. Then I'd know what I need to protect her from and how to act. It's not just Lohan. And she's not going to make it easy for me. I can't stop what she wants to do. I'll try, I'll deflect, I'll lie, but the chances of her trying, lying and deflecting are high too. And that's not what I want. I need to improve the casino's security, she needs to be with me full-time. There's no other option, I don't want there to be another choice. Shit! I'd make room if the scenario were different, but it's not. I can't relax with everything that's going on, and I'm not going to. I can't lose Kiki.

“Son of a bitch, are you listening?”

Pierre says, throwing his T-shirt at me.  I look over and he's upside down on the bar doing sit-ups.

“What's wrong?”, I say, still running.

“Simon suggested reminiscing about the band today. Do you remember that time?”

“Yeah, brother. Since there won't be any drugs or whores this year…”, Thierry says leaning against the wall, putting on his shirt.

“At least we can have fun playing”, Simon says.

The gym door opens, and Maurice walks through, dripping with sweat, indicating that he has just returned from his run, his serious gaze sweeping over each of us.

“So, have you decided what we're doing today?”, Maurice asks.

“What do you say we play a bit?”, Louis suggests.

“Weren't you planning to go out?”, Maurice asks, and I see a brief happiness in his eyes, just for not leaving the comfort of home.

“How? Are we taking the three of them?”, Pierre asks.

“After yesterday? Maurice and Dominique taking them out? Because we heard you talking before you left and arranging everything. I still don't understand why”, Simon says, finishing his workout, “But the rocket sisters aren't going to let it go.”

I stop the treadmill, take a bottle of water and drink it in long gulps, looking at everyone.

“Forget about going out. They're going to fuck up my birthday”, I say, picking up the towel and wiping the sweat from my brow.

“The instruments are in the studio”, Maurice says, leaning against the doorframe.

Thierry moves away from the wall, looking at us.

“Let's bring them to the pool area and make some noise.”

I smile nostalgically, I haven't touched a guitar in years, and my eyes widen when I stop to count. Fuck, almost fifteen years.

I'm standing in the pool area, playing the guitar, feeling the warmth of the sun and the light wind that passes between the palm trees. My hands slide across the strings and the distorted sound coming from the amplifier makes the ground vibrate. Simon is next to me, also with a guitar, adjusting the tune, while Maurice is on the bass, checking the last notes. Pierre, in the corner, is lightly tapping his drumsticks, warming up the rhythm. Louis, as always, can't sit still. He jumps up and down with apparently endless energy as he holds the harmonica. Thierry, more relaxed, is at the keyboard, as if the chaos around him was something completely normal to him.

Seeing the band formed is very nostalgic. But looking at the guys getting organized, I can see that everyone misses the DJ. Lohan son of a bitch, even at these moments he doesn't get out of my head... Maurice breaks the mood with a thump on the bass, the speaker at maximum volume.

“No frills. Are we going to play like this or not?”

That nervousness takes over. Do I really know how to play? Until I remember how to do it, I think I'll be fine. Ah, fuck it, now I want to see the result.

“So, let's choose one to warm up?”, I ask, excitedly.

“Well, it has to be an easy one. Like Fuck off!”, Louis suggests, excitedly.

“Really? That first one of ours?”, Maurice asks with raised eyebrows.

“Why not? Then we'll remember the others”, Simon agrees with the idea

Pierre hits the drumsticks and counts to 3. When we start playing the first notes, something clicks in my brain. I still remember how to make music and it feels great. The riff is like a wave, with the beats and notes echoing through the open space. Jolie comes out of the house, making a rock sign with her hand, shaking her head back and forth.

“You guys are awesome!”, she shouts, excited.

My voice meets Maurice's in the chorus, in a frenetic rhythm that accompanies the beats of the song and the guitar solo, each chord a beating. And I asked myself why I stopped doing it, when I'm so fucking good at it! I feel great and I like remembering that time, before so much shit happened. Louis runs from one side to the other and I go along with him, jumping, screaming:

“Another night, another memory. All of us together, without hope! Fuck off!”

Blanca arrives excitedly with Angelina, throwing her arms up and shouting with excitement. The steady beat continues and as I lift my head, I see Kiki approaching. She's wearing short shorts and a T-shirt, her messy hair swaying in the wind. When our gazes meet, a soft smile appears on her face. My fingers are still on the strings, but my mind is already focused on her. Kiki dances animatedly with Blanca, but her eyes are on me. She flicks her hair discreetly and gives me that naughty look. I can't resist and give her a wink back, ending the song. We hear the girls screaming and cheering, while the adrenaline from the performance is still coursing through my veins.

“This is your best birthday”, Maurice taps me on the shoulder.

“I have to agree.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon singing, stretched out by the pool and stayed in Tourette's until early evening, when we returned to Monaco. The drive back was uneventful, with my sister calling me non-stop, as she does every year, and Kiki chatting to Blanca and Vlad, saying she was surprised that we know how to do more than just play games and tell everyone to fuck off. Before we left, the guys revealed to Kiki the prize for winning the race: 12 whores and 15 days in Dubai with the escorts. I even said that, if she wanted to take the whores home, I wouldn't mind filling that mansion with sluts. She slapped me, and it still stings. She only agreed to the trip. Of course she did, since when would she deny something like that? This girl loves to travel, I've never seen it. She generously gave three women to each of my friends, except for Simon and me. We left Blanca at her home and went to mine.

When we arrived, Kiki ran to see the chicken, which hadn't ended up in the pot yet. I took advantage of her distraction to call the detective, this kid needs to give me explanations, information. I go into the office, close the door and dial the number quickly. I soon get through.

“Mr. Le Blanc?”, he says, in an irritating calm.

I laughed, incredulously.

“Dubois, I can't believe you're so calm when you haven't given me any information.”

“Sir, I told you it wouldn't be an easy task. I need time.”

“How much longer will it take to get in touch with your people? She's in danger. I need the information, Dubois, damn it! I thought her fingerprints would speed up the process.”

As soon as Kiki signed the first contract, I sent her fingerprints to Dubois to speed up the investigation.

“I understand your urgency, Mr. Le Blanc, but it is essential that you remain calm. I have established the necessary contacts with Interpol. As you can imagine, infiltrating their systems is a delicate process and requires extreme caution. It's not something that can be done in a hurry. It takes time and we are dealing with a secretive operation that requires meticulousness. However, I can guarantee that we will have more concrete answers by the end of next week. In the meantime, I recommend that you continue to protect her.”

“Do whatever it takes”, I say, quickly.

I hang up, huffing. I'm anxious. I throw myself into the chair, messing up my hair and letting out a breath, but I still feel apprehensive. What if Interpol isn't enough? I hate the feeling of not knowing what to do. I stay in the office, checking my schedule for tomorrow. Amélie hasn't given me a minute's peace. What a bitch! When I've finished, I pick up my cell phone, replying to the congratulations and seeing how many photos of tits and asses have been sent to me this year. I don't reply to them, I send them to the guys, because it might interest someone. And I delete them. Last year, I replied with a photo of my cock. But apparently this year I've matured. Why is that? I frown. Why did I fucking delete it? What's happening to me? Holy shit!

I get up from my chair and leave the office in disbelief. I go into the living room and find Kiki lying face down on the sofa, holding a book in one hand. She's wearing a red thong and a tank top in the same color. Her hair is down her back. At first, I'm amused, admiring her, but I also have a critical thought: someone could come along and see her like this, and that makes me angry.

“Kiki!”, I say, shaking her slightly to wake her up, and she grumbles.

“Hum?”

“Let's go to bed.”

She takes a deep breath.

“Are you taking me?”, her voice is sleepy.

“No. What do you have legs for? Just to support your ass?”, I slap one of the bands.

“Then leave me here”, she mumbles, settling back on the cushion.

I can't believe I'm doing this again, and not for the first time. Embarrassed, I take her in my arms. She rests her head on my shoulder and hugs my hip with her legs. And I remember that I've already thrown her to the floor because of this... I go to the elevator and press the button for the second floor.

“Dom…”, her voice is hoarse.

“Hum?”

“Did you enjoy your birthday?”

It was as different from my usual as possible, almost like that of someone fresh out of rehab, but even so, I wouldn't change a thing.

“It was the best ever, dolly.”

I get out of the elevator and go straight to my room. I still think it's safer for her to sleep with me. Even if I consider this house to be extremely safe, as I thought the casino was and I was wrong, she needs to stay with me. Walking down the corridor, I enter the bedroom and turn on the light.

“Your sister called me and I don't know how she got my number”, Kiki says.

“And what did she want?”

“I don't think Chérie has told me you're coming for her birthday. Eva keeps insisting that I must convince you. Pressing me if I've already succeeded... I know you told me you want to make fun of her, but... I don't want to mess with her, I'll end up stressing myself out…”

“Which is normal when you're in the same environment as her. You don't have to talk.”

She pulls away from my shoulder, stares at me and kisses my lips, which I reciprocate by squeezing her ass. I understand that she doesn't want to get involved, and I think that's for the best. When she wants to, Eva can be tricky and if she's hanging around Kiki, it's not a good thing. One more thing to watch out for. I don't want Kiki anywhere near her, I know my sister and her bitchiness.

I put Kiki to bed and watch her blink slowly, settling down on the pillow and grabbing it before going to sleep. I unbutton my shirt, take off my sneakers and pants, stripping down to my boxers, and lie down next to her. I pull her close and before she decides to start getting my cock into everything, I hold her legs and smell her until she falls asleep.

I'm in the kitchen, and the strong smell of coffee is wafting through the air. My mind is already racing, going over all the things I have to deal with today. I didn't sleep well last night, and I don't know if I want to hear what this detective is going to say. It won’t change anything. She won't leave my side. No news of Lohan's whereabouts, money is being spent, people hired, and, still, nothing. The impeccable state of his room in the casino and the apartment without any clues makes me think that he was already prepared for this. These thoughts leave me pissed, stunned, and most of all, fucking powerless. I take a sip of my coffee, placing the mug on the counter, when I reach for my cell phone. I hear light footsteps and then Kiki's voice:

“Woke up earlier than usual today…”

She approaches, wearing formal pants and a short collared shirt, with dark front buttons. She is holding a handbag and her cell phone, which she places on the high stool next to her. Her face is made up and her dolly lips are covered in red lipstick. She's so hot. I look at every detail, moistening my lips.

I bring my hand up to her neck and kiss her mouth hard, sucking on her tongue. I bend down, pick her up in my arms and place her on the bench. I squeeze her breasts through her clothes, listening to the low moan that escapes from her lips against mine. My cock gets hard, and I suck her mouth slowly, until I pull away before I lose control completely. It sucks having to hold back just because of my obligations. That’s unlike me, who always do what I want.

“Let's have coffee and then we have to go”, I move far enough away to hold her chin tightly.

She smiles, a smile I already know, and I know it's not going to be good for me.

“So…”, she begins, wrapping her arms around my neck, “The girls and I are going to Paris today... to a spa. And I've got some consultancies there too. But I'll be back in the evening”, she blinks, analyzing me.

I felt my blood boil instantly. Is she going to Paris? Without me? Not a fucking chance!

“There will be no Paris, no spa, no consultancy, no fucking thing! You're not going to walk around like nothing happened! I've already told you that!”, I turn away from her, my blood boiling.

“ I thought we'd talked, Dominique!”, she retorts, irritated.

I run my hand through my hair, my heart almost out of my chest, beating frantically.

“You can't live like this! What kind of madness is this? It's not like I have to ask your permission to do what I want!”, she shouts, full of rage.

“And who says what you want or don't want has anything to do with it? This is about your safety! Do you have any idea what I'm doing to make sure you're safe, Kiara?”, I growl, every word weighing.

“I don't want to feel suffocated like this! Don't you understand? I have a life, Dominique! A life that can't stop! I thought you understood that”, she retorts, her voice full of frustration.

“I'm not here to understand you or ask you what you think!”

I speak through my teeth, my control slipping away more and more. The thought of seeing her far away, unprotected, drives me crazy.

“I'm going!”, she gets down from the bench, her hazel eyes sparkling, “Whether you like it or not!”

Her tone is defiant, determined. She glares at me angrily, picking up her purse and cell phone. Kiki leaves the kitchen. I follow her down the corridor, my heels hitting the floor hard, echoing through the house. My body is rigid, adopting an unyielding posture. In a few steps, I reach her. In a single movement, I grab her hip firmly and lift her off the ground as if she were a rag doll, anger pulsing through my veins. Her handbag slips through her fingers and her cell phone falls against the marble with a dry crack that cuts through the air.

“You can scream all you want, you won't!”, I shout, the deep sound of my voice echoing off the walls, as my fury mixes with the adrenaline that is already consuming me.

“Put me down, Dominique!”, her tone is just as furious, and her words seem to tear through the silence of the house.

Kiki writhes in my arms, kicking the air violently, her legs trying to reach me, her arms slapping against my chest, in a desperate struggle, trying to slip off like soap. I feel her resistance, her muscles tense, her nails trying to dig into my arms.

“Let me go!”

Her scream is desperate now. Her voice rasps, but I ignore it. Her every word pushes me closer to the edge, feeding control. I enter the elevator without slowing down, pressing the button for the second floor. Her screams get louder, her hands find my face, trying to push me away, but it's no use.

“You're not going anywhere!”, I say, without losing control of the situation.

“No!”

She screams, her voice laced with despair. And before I can anticipate it, I feel her teeth dig hard into my arm. The pain is instantaneous and sharp, a roar comes from my throat. Fucking woman! I hold her body even tighter, as if the anger and the pain were one. I pull her hair violently, controlling every movement, dominating her.

We reach the bedroom. I walk in with her in my arms, without any delicacy, and throw her onto the bed with force. She falls backwards but doesn't stay still for a moment. She gets up and lunges at me, her eyes burning with hatred, her hands raised to attack me. The slaps hit my chest hard, and I feel the impact of each one of them taking their dissatisfaction out on me with each blow.

“Enough, dammit!”

I shout, grabbing her wrists tightly, preventing her from hitting me again. She pulls on my arms, trying to free herself, but I'm stronger. I shake her, making her body squirm in front of me. Her gaze meets mine, anger shining in her eyes, almost feral, cornered.

I push her back again, throwing her against the bed. She falls, but this time the impact is heavier. I don't give her time to recover. I go to the door, get the key and lock her in the room before she has a chance to stop me. She rushes to the door and at the last second, slams her face hard against it as I close it.

“Dominique!”

She screams, slamming the door hard. The sound of her fists discounting with intensity. I hear the anger and desperation in every punch, every scream, but I don't move. I won't give in. I breathe heavily, putting the key in my pocket and starting to make my way back to the elevator. I clench my fists, trying to control myself. When the doors open, I find Vlad with a worried expression, his eyebrows arched.

“Sir, if I may…”, he begins, hesitantly.

“I want security at every window and three at her door. You're going with me because you can help her get out”, I say harshly, giving no room for questioning.

“Mr. Le Blanc, I don't think this is the most sensible way to deal with this situation.”

The only thing left for me to do is handcuff her, maybe gag her. Or maybe both, since she can't understand in the slightest. I turn towards the elevator, ready to go in again. Before I do, I turn to Vlad.

“I want you to give Mathilde and Berta the day off. Kiara won't leave until I get back.”

“Sir, that's a drastic attitude…”

“That's enough, Vlad”, I make it short, ending the conversation once and for all.

I spend the early hours of the morning in a meeting at the casino, nervous. Then I return to my office. Trying to understand why I care so much. Why should I care what she does or doesn't do? It doesn't make any fucking sense for her to want to expose herself to danger like that. I care more than I should... if she wants to go and fuck everything up, why don't I let her? She's the one who's going to get fucked, not me. Why do I care about Kiara? In fact, I've been so responsible...

The door opens, interrupting my thoughts, and I see Maurice holding up some documents to get my attention.

“We can rest easy. The new finance director has a clean record. He has the necessary profile.”

I look at him.

“I've just come back from his office”, says Maurice, seriously.

“That's nice. I'll stop by later, I'm busy.”

Maurice looks around the room.

“Where's Kiara? Did you return the piranha to the aquarium?”

I pick up the paperwork that Maurice has thrown on the table and begin to analyze it.

“She's locked in the house.”

“Is that so?”

“Why do you think I'd be joking?”

I can't take my eyes off the papers. The director is really good.

“Dominique, fuck! If she calls the police, you're fucked.”

“She has no cell phone. Are you on her side now, Maurice?”

I put down the sheets and face Maurice. He looks incredulous.

“Use common sense. It's not because I'm your lawyer that I'm against the law.”

“You should, they're useless.”

“You're committing a crime, you son of a bitch!”

“Why are you surprised? It's not the first, and it won't be the last.”

Maurice runs his hand through his hair nervously.

“Holy shit... do you want to remember the last time you went to jail?”

I click my tongue.

“It was just one night.”

“It was just one night because I manipulated the evidence and bribed half the world because of you!”

“That says more about you than it does me, you know? It was nothing. That guy was asking to be hit. Was it violent? Yes. Did he almost die? Almost. But he's fine. Nobody told him to mess with me. I didn't do anything atrocious to her, I would never do that. I just locked her up, so she'd be safe. She wanted to go to a spa in Paris, can you believe it? As if Lohan wasn't out there, waiting for a breach”, I take a break, “Since you're here bothering me, I want a containment plan for the casino. Security is weak.”

Maurice sits down with a disgusted look on his face.

“You're paranoid about Kiara.”

“I'm not! She's feeling watched.”

“Of course she is! To begin with, there's you and this endless rotation of plainclothes security guards and Vlad. Look what happened, she was fucking abused. And before that, they tried to finish her off in Italy. She's being chased by who knows who and you're still acting like this? You're fucking suffocating her!”

“They've failed!”, I shout, banging on the table.

“And they've been changed, reinforced. Damn it, you've got mercenaries after her all the time. You can't treat her like this, Dominique.”

“I know what's best for Kiara.”

“You don't know! You know what's good for you”, he points at me, “Don't you realize what a paradox your life is? All this security you're giving her is pure fear! Fear that she'll go away and not come back! You've fallen for the scammer and now all you have to do is protect her from yourself, who doesn't even know where this is going.”

“Oh, fuck off, Maurice. You only open your mouth to talk shit and meddle where you don't belong. I don't want her to go anywhere. I just don't want her to get hurt anymore.”

“You may not see it, but you're already doing it”, he gets up from his chair, “Call Thierry if you need to get out of jail. I'm busy today.”

That's what he says before he leaves. I clench my fists in anger, as the door closes. I pick up the paperweight on the table and throw it hard against the door.

I get home at lunchtime. After a lot of thought, I realize that there's no point in going to this extreme. Pushing any harder than I already have won't get me anywhere. Maurice may have been talking shit, but maybe... maybe he has a point. I'm exaggerating. And, damn it, that could make her pull away.

I get into the elevator, press the floor button. I've always been in control, but what's right and what's overkill when it comes to Kiara seem to be the same thing. How many times has the worst happened when I wasn't around? Several times. Why should it be any different now? Because of the new security? Do they guarantee anything? They should. But that's not what I think.

I get out of the elevator and walk towards Kiara's room. I signal for the security guards to disperse, take the key from my pocket and unlock the door. When I open it, she stops walking and stares at me. Her gaze hits me like a punch. Haggard, angry, sad. Her eyes are marked by smudged make-up and her breathing is heavy. The tension in the air is suffocating.

“I wouldn't like it either if I were you”, I say, my voice low, controlled, “I won't do it again.”

She walks up to me without looking away, taking the key from the lock. My frown deepens as I try to understand what she's going to do. Then, suddenly, she slams the door hard in my face. The impact makes me blink and I lean against the door, feeling the weight of what has just happened. I let out a heavy sigh and start walking back. I go down the stairs. There's nothing more to do. Now I just have to wait.

After lunch, I went back to the casino. Throughout the day, an ache in my body consumed me, an insistent twinge in my head and my throat closed. I tried to open it up with a whisky, but it didn't do much good. At the end of the day, I returned home, and the security guards informed me that she hadn't left her room all day. That's a bad sign. She's pissed and, knowing Kiara, this silence will last for days. I took a quick shower and went to her bedroom door. I knocked once.

“Kiki, you need to eat.”

“Of course, you always know what I need, don't you? I don't”, her voice comes out muffled through the door, full of disdain.

And I can't contain a loud sneeze. I roll my eyes, huffing as I walk back to my room, irritated. I decide I'm not going to dinner either. Fuck everyone!

I throw myself on the bed, eaten away by the goddamn feelings that consume me, turning from side to side nonstop. Until I get tired and sit on the edge of the bed, thinking about going to the arcade. It's always been like this, but the thoughts hold me back... I've got nothing to do there apart from stuffing my face. I could do that here, but I'm not going either. And to make matters worse, I've got the flu. Shit! I hate getting sick.

I look in the mirror, fixing my tie. It's been a shitty night. I'm all stuffed up. I can't remember the last time I was sick. I go down to the kitchen, my body feeling heavy. I feel like going back to bed, but that's not how I work. A coffee will do the trick.

After a series of sneezes, I get to the kitchen and find Kiara drinking water. She's wearing gray gym clothes, perfectly fitted to her body, which tells me she's woken up early to work out. I stare at her, noticing the way she purses her lips. Breakfast is on the counter, and I grab a cup of coffee.

“Are you all right?”, she asks.

“I am”, I answer dryly, taking a sip of the hot beverage.

She nods, but I can tell she doesn't believe me.

“We need to talk…”, he says in a low, controlled voice, as I sit on the high stool, loosening my tie, feeling the weight of my head and the sharp pain.

“Go on”, I wave my hand, encouraging her to continue.

She comes closer, her eyes fixed on mine, and for a moment it feels like we're at war.

“You can't lock me up. I'm running away from people who want to break up with me and you're going the same way. You're making a mistake, Dominique. You're suffocating me. This can't go on, do you understand?”

My chest swells with anger at her words.

“I'm just protecting you, Kiara, you don't understand”, my voice comes out harsher than I intended.

She shakes her head negatively, her eyes locked on mine.

“That's not fucking protection”, she takes another step forward, her face almost touching mine, “You said you were going to look after me, but you're just pushing me away. Every day. And I don't want that.”

“That's all I know.”

“Bullshit! You're not like that. You're getting paranoid, Dominique! I have a lot of security, you don't have to worry so much. You'll end up going crazy... and taking me with you. Come on, Dom. You know that if anything happens, you'll be there.”

I feel the impact of the words and I shake.

“Nothing's supposed to happen, Kiara. Damn it!”, my voice rises, “It won't!”

I stand up, feeling the frustration explode inside me, even though I know she might be right.

“They attacked you in what was supposed to be the safest place. Can you understand that? It's not easy.”

I say angrily, trying to keep control as I take a croissant from the basket and bite into it, feeling it scratch my sore throat. I swallow with difficulty and take a sip of the juice, which goes down heavily, tasting it for her.

“Do you think it's easy for me? Seeing you put me in this bubble? I told you that you were hurting me, and you didn't even stop to think about it. You went and made it worse. The choice to leave is mine and so is the consequence. You can't protect me from the world.”

I take a step towards him, my body tense, my face hot.

“Yes, I can, but you don't want to. If you want to go to Paris by yourself or whatever, go ahead. But don't think I agree.”

I'm in the casino restaurant, in the private area. Vlad has gone to Paris with Kiki, that's the last news I heard. The rest of the morning was a sequence of exhausting meetings, and the flu only gets worse. Pierre is on my left, fiddling with his cell phone. Simon, Thierry, Louis and Maurice are sitting around the table, each with their own drink and we're talking about how we're going to reinforce security. But my patience is wearing thin. My body is exhausted, heavy. The surrounding sound seems distant, muffled by the pressure in my head. We discuss the new casino event, but it's hard to keep up. Still, I pretend everything is fine, even though I feel completely out of breath. I won't let anything get me down, not even a fucking virus.

The sound of a sneeze that I can't contain interrupts Thierry's speech.

“Dude, why don't you go home?”, he suggests.

“Because I never went and I'm not going now, damn it”, I let out a sigh, trying to clear my throat.

“Seems like y’all don’t know Dominique. Nothing will get him out of here”, Simon comments, with a smile.

I rub my temples, feeling the headache getting worse.

“You should see a doctor”, says Pierre, worried.

“What the fuck, Pierre? Are you mistaking me for someone else?”, I retort.

“Did you take medicine?”, Louis asks, with an arched eyebrow.

“Of course not. Let my body react. I've had whisky, and I'm going to have vodka soon. That's the solution.”

I push the plate away, unable to eat anything.

“As long as you don't start spiting phlegm, that's fine with me”, Maurice says, seriously.

The guys look at me with a doubtful expression, and I narrow my gaze at all of them.

“What's wrong? I said I'm fine.”

A hand suddenly reaches for my mouth. The gesture is quick, unexpected and I'm caught off guard. My body, heavy and exhausted by the flu, doesn't react. When I feel the pressure of the hand covering my mouth, forcing me to swallow pills, I hear Kiki's voice.

“I think you'd better swallow it”[1], she says, with menacing calm, “Otherwise I'll make that fuss you love in front of everyone.”

And since I'm in no condition to stress any longer, I agree not to spit out the capsules. Immediately afterwards, I feel her nails sliding down the back of my neck, making my skin crawl, she takes her hand away from my mouth, and I take the whisky, turning the glass over.

She was in Paris! What is she doing here?

“You need to be looked after too, Dominique”, she says in a directly, hitting me, “Bye, guys.”

“Bye, Kiki”, they reply in chorus, except Maurice.

I don't even look back or see when she leaves. I just settle back in my chair, annoyed.

“I wanted one like that so much. Does she have a sister? A cousin? Best friend?”, Pierre jokes, smiling.

“There's Blanca”, says Thierry, “But she's with an old man, he seems to be very strict.”

“He certainly has his reasons. She's crazy”, Maurice lets go, taking a sip of his whisky.

“'m glad mine is quiet”, Simon adds, pleased.

“Lucky you”, Louis replies, finishing his meal, “But I confess I wanted one with Kiki's temperament. Only with red hair... and big breasts, to use as a pillow.”[2]

I return to my office, exhausted, but aware that the day must go on. Soon I'm in another meeting and, without hesitation, I ask Amélie for two energy drinks. It's going to be a long one. The subject: changes to gambling laws. The discussion seemed endless, touching on possible changes to local regulations and the impact on the casino. Suggestions about online gambling came up and, for me, that was enough to end the conversation in my head. Three hours of debate and all I could think was that this casino feeds off tourists, the elite. Online gaming would open the doors to anyone, breaking down the exclusiveness that makes this place what it is. It's unacceptable to have someone think of opening it up to everyone! Afterwards, I check the reports and all the other bureaucracy, and go into a meeting with the legal department. By the end of the night, I can't stand it any longer. At 10:30 p.m. I get home, the elevator door opens and there's a wonderful silence. I take off my suit and tie and throw myself down on the sofa, taking a moment to try and breathe and realizing that I'm congested, my heavy eyes close. 

Kiki

I'm sitting at the coffee table in the living room, holding the medicine in my hand, watching Dom sleep heavily. I can tell he's broken. Why does he have to be so stubborn? I have reasons not to take medicine, at least I think so, right? But what about Dom? What's the point of staying like this and going to work like this? I'm a bit pissed off about being locked up and everything, but I do care, even if I don't know why. And it's so annoying not knowing. I kneel on the floor, bringing the back of my hand to his cheek and forehead, feeling his skin sizzle and his blond hair drenched in fever sweat. I bite my lip in concern...

“Dom, please, take the medicine…”, I caress his face.

“I'm not taking that shit. Leave me alone, dolly”, his voice is hoarse, low.

I close my eyes, releasing the air slowly.

“Why do you have to be like this?”, I say, frustrated.

Dominique doesn't answer, so I settle down on the floor next to him, holding his hand, resting my head on my arm as I watch him sleep and monitor his condition. I wonder what I can do to deal with a sick Dominique, since he won't make it any easier. I doze off from time to time, but every time I bring my hand up to his face, it seems that his fever only increases and that makes me worried, anxious and nervous. Here at home, my scandals don't work, there's no audience.

I realize it's dawn and Dom is still asleep, shivering. I get up from the floor and pick up the medicine bottles from the coffee table, walking towards the kitchen, determined to resolve this situation. As I enter the room, I find Mathilde with a serene countenance, putting on her apron and Berta drinking coffee with a calmness that I wish I had. The counter is already set with breakfast.

“What made you wake up so early, Kiki?”, Berta asks.

“I didn't even sleep. Dom is sick and won't take any medicine, he's burning up! He hasn't eaten since yesterday”, my tone is irritated, as I sit on the high stool, throwing the medicines on the surface and curling a lock of my hair.

“That’s normal, Kiki. The last time he was like this, he didn't take anything. He just wanted to be quiet, and his mood turned sour.”

“Sourer?”, I ask incredulously. Is it possible?

“Yes.”

I sigh.

“Mathilde, can you help me unpack the works of art that have arrived?”, Berta asks, as she props up her cup and heads upstairs.

“Of course, everything is already in place.”

Berta turns towards me:

“And you, make sure you don't provoke the beast. Stay on your side of the house, so there won't be any trouble left for you.”

I frown. Me, afraid of Dominique? At this point? Please, spare me. I nod briefly, watching the two of them leave the kitchen chatting and an idea strikes me, and I start drumming my fingers against the worktop.

I get up and go to the cupboard, getting the muddler and a container. I add the antipyretic, the antithermal and the anti-inflammatory, pounding them into powder. I pour the contents into the cup and take the muddler and container to the sink. Then I go to the coffee machine with the cup of medicine and one for me.

I hear a sequence of coughs coming closer and realize that Dom has woken up. He soon enters the kitchen, his face exhausted, his gray eyes half-closed, haggard. We exchange glances.

“Would you like some coffee?”, I ask.

What's left of Dom nods in agreement, sitting down and leaning his elbows on the worktop. When the machine finishes pouring the espresso, I hand him the cup, hoping he'll drink it all. I make myself a cup and act incredibly naturally. As I approach, the delicious aroma of coffee and smoke envelops the kitchen. I sit down next to him and hand him my cup, which he tastes and hands back to me. Dom sips his coffee in silence, and I feel a huge sense of relief. I put my hand on the back of his neck, stroking it, and I notice that his fever is still high. But it will get better with the medication.

“Dom, you have a fever. Why don't you stay at home?”, I say, trying not to sound overbearing.

He gives me a glare.

“It's just a fever, I'm not disabled”, Dom replies in a hoarse voice.

“No problem.”

The fact is that he won't show vulnerability, no matter what I say or do. I'll have to be discreet. Dom is stubborn, he doesn't think he needs anyone, perhaps because he's used to dealing with everything on his own. I'm not going to force anything, he doesn't want that.

We drink coffee in silence. Dom tastes my food, and I only eat what he tries. Then he gets ready to go to the casino, while I get ready for the consultancies and to meet Blanca.

The consultancy went smoothly. I love my clients and, by the way, they are recommending me to other friends, which is great for my business. This week has been full of appointments. The one in Paris yesterday was wonderful. Caroline is a cutie. Everything looks great on her, every outfit seems tailor-made.

Now I'm in a sophisticated and luxurious café with Blanca. The atmosphere is welcoming, with minimalist design furniture, soft leather chairs and overhead lights that create a cozy atmosphere. I take a sip of my sparkling water while Blanca sips a non-alcoholic fruit cocktail, visibly upset.

“May I ask why you're avoiding alcohol?”, I ask, curiously.

Blanca nods.

“It's nothing serious. I've had a couple of annual tests, and my liver has some small changes and it's been recommended that I get it under control. Now, no alcohol for me”, she says, with a fake smile, “As if it would be easy to endure everything I endure without alcohol. Because, you know, right? With a glass in my hand, I'll do anything.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“'Cause it's irrelevant”, she shrugs.

“Your health is not irrelevant, Blanca.”

“Sorry, I wasn't even remembering my liver. There's nothing to worry about.”

I nod, agreeing, but somewhat annoyed.

“You shouldn't have let it go, Blan.”

“Next time, I'll tell you.”

I look at the clock on my cell phone.

“We have to go, I have to give Dom his medicine.”

“Is he ill?”

“He has a bad cold, and he's not easy.”

“And when is it easy with him? So many men in Monaco... I still can't believe you chose Dominique.”

“And I can't believe that instead of filling up the car with diesel, you were apparently chugging on it”, I say, laughing, “That alone explains your liver problem at the age of 22.”

“You idiot”, Blanca gives me the middle finger, “It’s on me today.”

Before we leave, I order a chocolate frapuccino for myself, a red fruit milkshake for Blanca and an unsweetened cappuccino for Dom. When the waitress hands it to me, I thank her. Blanca pays the bill, and I take the macerated pills, a white powder, out of my bag. I open the cappuccino, pour the powder in and mix it with the straw.

“Whoever sees it from the outside... even thinks Maurice is right, you know?”

“It's a risk to take. Since he won't take it, I'll have to do it my way.”

We get up and leave the cafeteria. When we arrive at the casino, we take the private elevator from the parking lot, which takes us up to the boardroom. The place is silent. We walk down the long corridor calmly, until we see Amélie, who greets us politely.

“Can you tell them I'm here?”

“Of course. He's meeting Maurice and Simon, but that's fine.”

Amélie presses the phone button and announces me.

“Kiki and Blanca are here, may I let them in?”

“You may”, Maurice's voice replies.

Blanca and I looked at each other, confused.

“Mr. Le Blanc has no voice”, Amélie clarifies.

So it's gotten worse? Shit! I enter the room with Blanca by my side, seeing three pairs of eyes looking in our direction: Dom, Maurice and Simon.

“We were nearby, and I felt like having a frappuccino. Would you try it for me?”, I say to Dom.

He nods for me to come closer.

“And I brought you a cappuccino”, I look at Simon and Maurice as I approach Dom, “I didn't know you were here, otherwise I would have brought y’all something.”

“Don’t worry, Kiki, I only drink tea”, says Simon.

I hand Dom the cup, he tries my frappuccino and gives it back to me. Then I hand him his cappuccino. His face looks better than it did earlier and that's a relief. At least I don't feel so guilty about deceiving him, even if it is for his own good. I couldn't bear to see him like that without being able to do anything about it. Dominique thanks me with a look as he takes a generous sip of his drink.

“How are you having a meeting if he's not talking?”, Blanca asks, puzzled.

Everyone looks at Blanca.

“You have to interpret what he's gesturing”, says Maurice.

“But wouldn't it be better if he wrote on a piece of paper or drew?”, Blanca suggests.

“He texted saying that we had to interpret the gestures. Otherwise, we had to go fuck ourselves”, says Simon.

Practical, I think. Blanca finishes her milkshake and the sound of her sucking on the bottom of her cup makes Maurice reach out and snatch it from her hand, throwing it in the garbage can. I take the opportunity to put my hand on the back of Dom's neck and notice that his temperature is normal, which reassures me. Dom holds my hand, patting it as if to say that everything is fine.

“You keep fucking sucking air”, grumbles Maurice, annoyed.

“Mind your own business!”, Blanca gets upset.

“You're the one who's annoying me with that infernal noise. If you want your cup back, I'll take it out of the garbage can, but you'll swallow it, not suck it.”[3]

“Time to go”, I hurry, pulling Blanca by the arm, “See you later, Dom.”

I spent the afternoon at the casino with Blanca, and had dinner with Dominique there. He seems to be feeling better, with no fever and less coughing. He managed to eat a little, not as usual, but a reasonable amount. His voice is still flawed, and he speaks little, so I do body reading instead of mime, and everything flows well.

When we get home, we go up to the second floor. I take a long shower, taking advantage of the 12 water outlets, moisturize my hair and wash my body, while I talk to Blanca on the speakerphone. I finish the call and the shower and go to the closet, wearing a light white lingerie set. As I leave the suite, I stop for a second when I see Dominique asleep in my bed, wearing black pajama pants, his chest bare. I can't help a little smile and move closer, climbing into bed and covering us. I stroke his face with the back of my fingers, feeling his cool skin, and let out a sigh of relief when I realize that the fever is gone for good. I lie down next to him, finally allowing myself to fall asleep too.