Dirty Dom

1. Dom

"Give me her number." After I've had a moment to calm down, I finally take a seat and decide to work out a plan to see her again. I can't fucking let her go, especially not after the way I treated her.

"It's her husband's number." The tic in my jaw twitches again, and I grind my teeth at his words.

"The fucker's dead, right?" My eyes bore into Johnny's as my words come out with enough bite to let him know I'm still on edge. He starts to answer verbally, but then decides just to nod his head. I keep staring at him, letting him get a good fucking idea of how pissed I am when he refers to that prick as her husband. "So he's not her fucking husband."

"Alright, boss. You got it. I just-" he stops himself and looks at the floor before continuing, "I just have his number. Not hers."

"What's her name?" I'm a fucking fool for not even getting her name.

He shuffles his feet, but keeps his eyes on me. He knows better than to back down, even if I am pissed off. I don't have pussies working for me. I don't fucking like weakness. "I don't know." My rage is getting the best of me. Of course he doesn't fucking know. He probably doesn't even know her dead husband's real name.

"What's his number? Give it to me." Johnny immediately takes out his cell and pushes a few buttons. My phone, still on the sectional, beeps with a text.

It's my doll's dead husband's number. Perfect. I call it right away. Why? I don't fucking know why. I immediately hang the fuck up on the first ring. What the hell is wrong with me? What am I going to say? Hey, sorry I fucked you like you were some slut. Didn't mean to take advantage. Fucking hell, I'm losing my touch. "I'm gonna send this over to Tony." Tony will tell me everything he can about this number. From who it belonged to, to what that fucker ate for breakfast the day he died. More importantly, I'll find out who his widow is.

"Johnny, how many of these fucking drops do I have to sit through today?"

"We've got three more lined up, boss," he answers.

"Fan-fucking-tastic." I can't shake my irritation. I need to calm down before shit gets out of hand. I roll my shoulders, throw my scotch back and pour myself another.

"Your ma having dinner tonight?" Johnny asks me like he has no clue. Must be his fucking nerves getting the best of him.

"Relax, I'm just a bit wound up."

"What'd she say to you that's got you on edge?" he asks.

"She didn't say a goddamn thing, Johnny. I'm just curious." He raises a brow in question.

"Her pussy that good?" he asks with a smirk.

"You really wanna push me right now?" That wipes the smile off his face and puts one on mine. I laugh at him and pour him a drink. I walk over to him, a glass in each hand. He takes his drink from my hand and gives a small nod in thanks. "Salute," I say, clinking my glass with his

"Salute." He takes a small sip and winces as the burn stings his throat. I chuckle and gulp back the rest. I shake out my arms and already feel a bit more relaxed. I throw my feet on the table and get ready to text Tony.

"What's the cheers for, boss?"

I grin and press send on the text. I adjust in my seat and lean my head back on the sleek, black leather sectional. "Just found my new girl."

His brow furrows in confusion and then disbelief, but he's quick to straighten out his face. He takes another sip and walks to the window to look out over the field. It's Sunday, but there's nothing going on today. Team's on break, I take it. "Been a while for you, hasn't it?"