Her Dom's Secret Past Read online

  Next.

  I wanted to give Anabelle some more flowers—preferably orchids. Online, I found a florist that would deliver today. Scrolling through, I discovered a lovely Phalaenopsis orchid plant. Ringing the place, I found they had a pure-white plant with four stems of flowers. Yes, they’d deliver it today before two. Perfect, that would be much better than a vase of them. This would keep, and, being white, would fit in with the décor of the salon.

  This afternoon I had another appointment with my physiotherapist who dealt with post-operative rehabilitation and management. I needed to get myself back in shape for my dearest Anabelle.

  The rest of the morning I spent clearing away the last few bits and pieces from my move. This was a huge house, but already I loved it. The place was unfurnished when I bought it.

  When I’d landed back in Sydney after the holiday, I’d caught a taxi to Chatswood and booked into a hotel for two nights. The whole time I’d waited for Anabelle to ring me. I’d had a niggling fear when I hadn’t heard from her that first evening, but I’d made excuses in my mind. Every few minutes, I’d check my phone, thinking maybe I’d missed her call, maybe the battery was flat, maybe she’d sent a text message, but there was nothing.

  That afternoon, I’d gone to the local Lexus dealer and found myself a new car.

  I’d gone shopping, buying my bed, linens, blankets, pillows. I’d found a four-door refrigerator, a washer and dryer, as well as a settee big enough for three people. After arranging with the company to have it all delivered on Monday afternoon, I’d gone back to the hotel. Still no word from Anabelle and despite all the reasons I came up with, in the back of my mind I’d known it was over. For her, I’d been simply a holiday romance, a no strings type of fling. I’d tried to push all those negative ideas from my head and went rushing into my move.

  I picked up my new car on Monday morning, punched in the address of my new home into the navigator and took off. When I pulled in to my driveway, I realized the photographs certainly hadn’t done it justice. The place was amazing.

  I’d left the car under the two-car carport, and I’d put it in the garage later. Keying in the security code, I entered the foyer and breathed in deeply—I was home.

  The only downside was the place was sprawled out over three levels. Still, my leg would get used to climbing and it would probably do it good. I also had a saltwater pool, as well as a sauna. The tub in the bathroom was a spa tub, so that covered all the bases. That night, when I’d fallen into bed, I was very satisfied. My house was perfect, I had food and a bed, and my possessions had arrived. All was right except for my beautiful Anabelle.

  I’d kept trying to come up with excuses as to why she hadn’t rung, refusing to believe the obvious. I even rang the villas in case they hadn’t given Anabelle my note, but the receptionist assured me she’d handed it over personally as soon as Anabelle returned on the Saturday morning. Trying to delude myself into thinking there was a perfectly logical reason, I came up with all these stupid excuses, like she’d lost her phone or she’d dropped the letter and the wind blew it away. Beat me what the hell I thought I was doing, but it was all I could cling to. I wanted her that badly and it wasn’t only because of the sex. I needed her in my life. I’d searched the Internet, trying to find her without success. My heart would never recover. She was my lost love and each time I thought of her, I died a little.

  Fuck!

  I’d even put off buying all the furniture I needed. I’d been secretly hoping Anabelle would help me furnish it, and in the back of my mind, I thought finding her and buying stuff were linked. As the weeks went past, I came to realize I was being stupid. I couldn’t live forever in a house with only a bed and one couch. I’d have to bite the bullet and accept my loss. I had to move on.

  What a fucking serendipitous plan that was!

  If I hadn’t decided to “move on”, I’d never have found that article in the old newspaper. Then I’d never have found my Anabelle. Funny how things worked out. She was back in my life and I never wanted to lose her again.

  After ringing the florist, I settled on the porch that overlooked the water. I kept telling myself I needed outdoor furniture, but it was another item I’d kept putting off. Still, I did manage to sit on the floor with my back against the wall of the house. Getting up might be a problem, but I’d worry about that later.

  I had to admit I didn’t get much reading done. I kept going over the events of the previous night. I’d honestly thought I’d blown it with Anabelle. She went very quiet and didn’t answer me after the last few things I’d said. I’d walked down those stairs, thinking my world had come to an end, and at the same time I figured it was to be expected. Each step had taken me further away from her and sank me deeper into misery. When I reached out to open the door, it was as if my life was over. Stupid, but that was what it felt like. I even wished those bullets had killed me. How could I live without her?

  Then when I’d heard her call my name, my heart actually soared. I remember glimpsing up and seeing her mouthing my name, looking in such distress. I couldn’t even remember getting back up the stairs. My God, she was amazing.

  What other woman would be that accepting?

  I completely understood her reluctance, how things must have been whirring around her head. It wasn’t everyday someone told you they’d killed people. I wasn’t proud of the deaths, but I was proud of protecting my country.

  Now all I had to do was get my body back into shape. I’d been very lucky, all things considered. The bullets had missed most things. There had been broken bones, but they missed the truly important things, like my heart. As far as my shoulder was concerned, the break in the bone had healed now, and I had full movement and use back. My stomach was better. Rarely did I get any pain. It was only when I tried to overdo things.

  I needed to solely concentrate on my leg. Hopefully my trips to the physio would be able to help it heal fully. The bullet had torn through the muscles and nerves, grazing the bone. The surgeon told me it had been a real mess, and I was extremely thankful they were able to get it back together.

  Anyway, I relaxed on the deck and watched a few boats traveling up the river. One stopped nearby and the occupants, a man and boy, threw in a line. I watched them for about three quarters of an hour. They pulled in a couple of fish, which meant I might have some luck when I began fishing. That was another thing I’d need to buy—fishing gear. Shit, my list was getting longer and longer.

  Wonder if Anabelle works on the weekends?

  Probably Saturday, hopefully not Sunday. Maybe Sunday she’d like to come help me buy a few things. I checked my watch. Almost twelve-thirty. Time to get up and shower. Easy to say, but hard to do. I was grunting like an old man before I finally made it to my feet. I didn’t think I’d be sitting on the floor again any time soon. I definitely had to buy some outdoor furniture.

  After showering, I shaved, trimmed my beard, and dressed. I drove to Gosford for my appointment and let the physio inflict a half an hour’s worth of torture on my leg. She declared it a success, saying it was much better than when I’d first come to her. We arranged to drop down to weekly sessions and I left in pain, but with only a small limp. I guessed she was right.

  After grabbing a burger from a fast food place, I drove home. Then late in the afternoon, I dressed for the evening, deciding on a three-piece mid-gray suit but without the tie, a white shirt open at the throat. I examined at myself in the full-length mirror in the dressing room.

  What did Anabelle see when she looked at me?

  A tall black dude with a beard and almost shaved head. Muscular. At that point, I gave a fake smile. Okay, this was stupid. The woman said she loved me and that was all that mattered. Now all I had to do was get her to move in with me because I knew for a fact I didn’t want to be apart from her more than was necessary, especially after last night.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Anabelle

  “These came for you, Bella.”

  Miriam h
ad called me down to the front reception. On the counter was a stunning white container filled with beautiful Moth Orchids—startling white with vivid, glossy, deep-green leaves. I noticed a couple of the other girls were hanging around, trying to see them.

  I glowered saying, “Haven’t you all got work to do?”

  There was lots of tittering laughter as they went back to doing the things they were supposed to. Miriam watched as I opened the card.

  Thank you so much for last night, love you, John x

  I may have blushed a little. Charlie was just seeing a client out and came over to me, reading the card over my shoulder.

  He whispered softly in my ear, “Ooh. Sounds like you were a naughty girl.”

  I quickly pushed the card back into the envelope and turned to glare at him. As usual, he only grinned and winked. I picked up the pot and carried it up to my office with Charlie trailing behind.

  “Miss Rich-Bitch Bride will be here in fifteen minutes, Belle. I’ve checked the dress. It looks divine. Wonder what she’ll think.”

  “Is that today? I’ll be glad when we see the last of her. Okay, buzz me when she gets in.”

  Charlie turned to leave and I added, “Oh, and give her a glass of bubbly as soon as she walks in the door, might put her in a good mood.”

  Charlie rolled his eyes and left.

  Jacinda Wilson-Smith had been a pain during the entire process of designing and making her wedding gown. She kept changing her mind, demanding more and more, each change driving the cost up higher and higher. The dress had started out as a lovely, simple yet elegant mermaid, and now it was nothing like the original design. Still, it was beautiful and I was very proud of the team. Hopefully, today she’d try it on, decide it was perfect, pay us, and leave. Fingers crossed.

  Carina and I held our breath as the gown dropped over her head. I crossed my toes as well as my fingers as Carina lowered it and then did up the myriad of tiny diamante buttons in the back. She fluffed up the skirt and train and we waited. The bride stared in the mirror and burst into tears.

  Now that was the reaction I was hoping for.

  Oh, my goodness, my luck is changing!

  First John and now Miss Wilson-Smith. She loved the gown!

  I handed her a tissue and suggested we go out to the main floor where she could see the dress better. She wiped her eyes and nodded. Then Carina picked up the train as Miss Wilson-Smith sashayed out to where her mother and mother-in-law-to-be sat along with three of her bridesmaids.

  The reaction of the five was similar to Jacinda’s and I silently sent up a prayer of thanks to The Buddha. We put a veil on her and let her soak in the view. She was beautiful, and I was extremely satisfied with our work. Jacinda turned to me and said a watery thank you before the others came over to hug and kiss her. I quietly left them in the capable hands of Heather and went to the front desk to check on things.

  Tomorrow was Friday. I had a few appointments and one on Saturday. The boutique was always closed from Sunday and opened again on Wednesday. I kept glancing at the clock, wishing it was closing time. When five-thirty finally rolled around, I bid goodnight to the staff and went upstairs to freshen up.

  Five to six, I went back downstairs and switched off the lights, set the alarms, went outside, and locked the front door. Perfect timing. John pulled up as I finished. I walked to the car, but he’d gotten out and opened the door for me. He gave me a quick kiss and then he got behind the wheel. We pulled out into the traffic and drove to Wahroonga, only about five minutes away.

  “Thank you for the beautiful orchids, John. They are beautiful.”

  “You’re most welcome.”

  He glanced at me and smiled. Of course, it melted my heart, as it usually did. Anyway, we pulled into a car park and walked into the restaurant. I had no idea what we ate. All I could think of was that I was back with John and my heart hadn’t stop singing and dancing since yesterday. I realized he’d asked me a question and had to apologize.

  “I was asking if you open on the weekends.”

  “Only Saturday, then the salon is shut until Wednesday.”

  “Wow, that’s great news. I have to admit I was hoping we could spend a lot of time together. Have you always only been open four days a week?”

  “In the beginning when I first opened, I had to be open seven days a week, but now I can afford to close three days a week. We have plenty of work and usually a number of appointments for me personally each week.”

  “I still can’t believe the prices women pay for a wedding dress.”

  “It is crazy, but then there is a lot of work involved and the prices of fabrics are astronomical.”

  I told him about my deal with the importer.

  “You mean some lace is thousands just for a meter?”

  “Yep, and when you think that some dresses have dozens of meters, you can understand why they are that expensive.”

  “Heck, I never thought of it that way. Yes, I can completely see it now.”

  “Of course, now I have made my ‘name’, so to speak, brides with money like to say they have a one-off designer gown. They don’t care how much they pay, they want the prestige.”

  “Crazy.”

  “That dress that was ruined, the one I lost track of you for. Well, that was seventy thousand and then we had to almost remake the whole thing in a day. Charlie gave the father a bill for another twenty grand when he picked the dress up, but he was overjoyed that his ‘little girl’ wouldn’t have a wrecked gown that he added a five grand tip.”

  “Oh hell. That’s … shit.” He shook his head as I laughed.

  “I split the tip between Carrie, Carina, that’s my head seamstress, and Charlie.”

  “Gee, that’s a nice thing to do.”

  “Well, I have good staff and I think they should be rewarded for the work they do. Anyway, I made an extra seven grand by the time I took off the cost of the fabrics we used, which means everyone is happy.”

  “Ana, you said you have eight staff. I’ve met the doorkeeper. What do the others do?”

  “I have a receptionist, Miriam. She does all the bookings, arranges things, takes the money. Then Charlie is the manager. He runs the place like clockwork. I have two girls who do appointments, fittings that I don’t. Then there’s Carrie, she’s my head seamstress, I have two other seamstresses. Let me think. I have an off-site bookkeeper who works with my accountant, but I don’t count her as my staff as she merely does the books once a week.

  “Then I have a young woman, Stacy, who’s recently finished college. She’s been working for me for the past five years while she studied. She’s twenty-nine and working out extremely well, and I’m actually getting her to design some bridesmaid gowns. I want to find someone who I can safely trust to work the business when I eventually retire. She’s looking very good actually.”

  “I guess that makes sense to have someone run it later.”

  “Oh yes. I don’t want to close it down just because I’m retired. If things work how I want, I’ll run it from afar, maybe I’ll eventually sell the name. Not sure yet.”

  Somehow, we’d finished eating, I knew I had but… Anyway, we drove back to my place and I invited John in. We sat down on the settee, his arm across my shoulder, gently caressing my arm.

  “Ana, would you like to come over to my place? Maybe on Saturday after work and stay for a couple of days?”

  Oh wow.

  My heart did a quick loop-de-loop as I nodded. “I’d love to.”

  “Mind you, I haven’t got round to furnishing it fully yet, but maybe you can help.”

  “Oh, okay. You said you’ve been having physiotherapy on your leg. What about your shoulder?”

  “It’s fully healed now and so is my stomach, as long as I don’t lift anything too heavy yet. My leg’s improving every day. It’s possible I’ll always have a slight limp, but it isn’t as painful as it was.”

  “That’s great news.”

  “It is, because it means there�
�s nothing at all stopping me from making love to you whenever you want.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Whenever I want?”

  “Of course. It’s always been about you, about your pleasure.”

  I blushed. His hand rubbed against my cheek and I leaned into it. His touch could tie my stomach into knots.

  Very huskily, that sexy voice whispered in my ear he asked, “Would you like me to give you some pleasure now?”

  “Please.” My throat had constricted and it came out rather squeaky.

  He stood and took my hand, leading me into my bedroom. Once there, he actually undressed me, slowly, sensually. His hands caressing my body, his lips planting kisses here, there and everywhere. By the time I was naked, I was unbelievably aroused.

  “You are so beautiful I can’t believe you’re mine. I do love you, Ana, I adore you.”

  I went to tell him I loved him, but he covered my mouth with his. My words were lost as he kissed me.

  “I have to spank you again, Ana. I loved seeing your arse get bright red with my hand prints. You loved it, didn’t you?”

  I nodded, afraid my voice would still be squeaky. He stripped off, and that body of his took my arousal even higher. He sat down on my bed and took one hand.

  “Come here, my lovely woman, and let me show you how much pleasure I can give.”

  I let him draw me forward to bend me over his knees. His prick was rubbing against my skin and I wanted to suck it. Instead, I saw him raise his arm and bring his hand down hard on one cheek. I gasped. It amazed me how much it stung, but how much I wanted it. I knew exactly where the pain would eventually take me—to heaven. Already I knew I was getting damp as he landed another blow to the other cheek.

  “How pretty your arse glows.”