Dom (Alliance #3)

I slide into the space between the chair and table, but before he can push my chair in, Dom crowds into the space, forcing the host to step back.

I bite down on the urge to laugh and let Dom push my chair in as I sit, forgetting about the fact that Dominic never checked in or even said his name when we got here.

Dom is lowering himself into his chair when a server reaches our table.

“I’ll give you a moment with the menu,” she says as she fills our water glasses. “But if you’d like to start with a drink, let me know.”

She has trouble looking at Dom and instead bounces her gaze between me and the table.

Taking pity on her, because I get it, he’s too hot to look at, I decide a drink is the perfect thing. “Can I have a margarita on the rocks, please?”

She nods. “Of course. Do you have a tequila preference?”

“Oh. Um…” I look to Dom.

It’s not like I’ve never bought tequila or ordered a specific one, but this place seems a little fancier than what I’m used to. And I don’t want to ask for something stupid.

Understanding my hesitation, Dominic requests one that starts with anrand ends with my panties disintegrating. He pronounces it like he’s speaking another language, and I wonder if he’s bilingual.

And I’m too distracted staring at his mouth to even hear what he orders for himself.

“That okay?” Dominic asks, his attention back on me.

I bite my lip as I nod, then blurt out, “Do you speak Spanish?”

“To my grandfather’s complete sadness, I’m sure, I do not.” He shakes his head with a self-deprecating huff. “Just enough to get by.”

“Like ordering drinks?”

Dom tips his head. “Like that.”

“So your grandfather…” I trail off, unsure if I should be asking this. And unsure if I really want to open the discussion of family because there’s only so much I want to share about my own.

But Dom doesn’t look offended or upset at my question. He looks pleased. “I don’t remember him much. He passed away when I was little. But my grandmother, his wife, was around a lot longer, and based on the stories she told me, I think he would’ve liked you.”

“Me?” My brows shoot up.

Dominic has never shied away from saying whatever he feels, but this feels extra… personal. Something you might say when your significant other finally meets your family.

“Yeah, Shorty. You.”

“Why?” I can’t help asking.

“Because you’re sweet. And just the right amount of feisty.”

“Your grandfather would like me because I’m feisty?” I laugh.

Dom nods. “A good woman can change your life. Or so he used to say.”

I feel the warmth of that statement in my chest. “He must’ve really loved your grandmother.”

“He did.” Dom lets out a deep breath. “He grew up in Colombia, in a little town. But he came here, to Chicago, when he was twenty-two. It was supposed to be a short visit. Two weeks. But then he met a woman. A nice girl from the suburbs, from a respectable family, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“He just stayed?”

“He stayed.” Dom’s blue eyes don’t waver. “Because a good woman can change your life.”

I swallow. “I like that story.”