By a Thread: Chapter 55

I was officially living in an alternate universe.

Not only had I spent the night in Dominic Russo’s bed—and surprisingly snuggly arms—now I was riding with him to work. The streets had been cleared of yesterday’s modest snowfall, leaving the pavement clean and wet.

A new start. A blank canvas.

It looked as though there would be one for us too. We’d been summoned.

By his mother.

And I wasn’t sure if that was a good or very, very bad thing. HR and management could easily decide to fire us both.

Or just one of us. And I already knew which one of us that would be.

Just because Label had made strides since Paul Russo’s reign of terror didn’t mean that the son of the editor-in-chief would be judged on the same level as a lowly admin. Especially not one who admittedly pursued and seduced her boss… while coated in body glitter and shame in a strip club.

Technically, on paper, I was a Malina.

A thought that made my skin crawl.

I leaned forward to check my makeup in the mirror. With the swelling down, the bruising had been easier to hide under a thick coat of concealer and spunky side part.

“What’s wrong?” Dominic asked from the driver’s seat. The only outward sign of his nerves was the frenetic, silent tapping of his thumb on the wheel.

“Nothing at all. Just feel like I’m marching toward a firing squad.”

“You’re not going to get shot,” he assured me.

“Not that kind of firing squad. Like a ‘you’re no longer employed, pack your shit’ firing squad.”

Eyes on the road, he took my hand, squeezed it. “Stop worrying,” he insisted.

“Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? You’re so handsome and smart,” I said, heavy on the eyelash-batting sarcasm.

“Hey, I could have easily fixed this,” he reminded me.

“Your solution was to quit your job. On what planet was that even an acceptable option?”

“On the planet where I want to be able to get you naked guilt-free more than I want that job.”

My lady parts performed a discombobulating quiver. My vagina was fangirling over Dominic Russo.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that. You like working there,” I pointed out.

He shot me a skeptical side-eye. “What makes you say that?”

“I think you’re a lot more comfortable at Label than you realize,” I pointed out. “You’ve never once complained about fashion being boring or unnecessary or shallow. If anything, I think you have an appreciation for it. You clearly enjoy working with your mother and Linus. And I’ve seen your face when you get the final mock-ups for the issue.”

He grunted rather than admitting I was right.

“Besides, you’re a Russo. You and Dalessandra are building a legacy. I’m the one who has no idea what I’ll do once things are more settled with Dad.”

“You’ll stay here.” He said it in that annoyingly confident way as if he’d already made the decision for me.

“I haven’t decided,” I sniffed primly as he pulled into the parking garage.

“Yes. You have. You’re not setting your father up in a nursing home and then moving away.”

Smug Smartypants had me there, and he knew it.

He swung into a parking spot, and we sat in silence for a beat.

“I don’t like it when you worry,” he said.

It was an oddly sweet sentiment coming from him. I opened my mouth to tell him that, but he cut me off.

“Especially not when there’s an obvious solution.”

The tiny cartoon hearts orbiting my head popped like balloons. “Are you trying to annoy me?” I asked.

“I’m pointing out that by ignoring my solution, you’re setting yourself up for unnecessary discomfort. No matter what, people will talk.”

I shifted on the heated leather seat to face him. “Dom, of course people are going to talk. Trying to avoid being a topic of conversation is a pretty lame way to live life. Sometimes, accepting the discomfort is how good things are earned.”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Or scared. Or hurt. I want to protect you from all of that. I can protect you from all of that. You’re just too damn stubborn to see the light.”

Bizarrely, those little cartoon hearts reappeared.

“Dom, as much as you want to, you can’t protect me from everything. And if people want to gossip and speculate about us or our sex life or what I’m going to do after I definitely get fired, let them. I’m not going to lie and hide things in hopes that Malina won’t be hissing insults behind my back.”

Or more likely to my face.

“I want this to be worth it to you,” he said, staring straight through the windshield.

“Are you talking to me or that concrete pillar?”

He gave an exaggerated eye-roll. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“Why stop now?” I said, feeling marginally more cheerful.

“Just don’t worry about this thing today. Whatever they decide, we’ll figure out a way that I can still see you naked and you can still pay your bills.”

“And they say romance is dead,” I said airily.

He grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me hard. “We’ll make this work,” he promised.

And I believed him.

Ruth stood behind the reception desk looking flushed and terrified when Dominic ushered me through the office door. I’d texted her and Gola a head’s up this morning.

Her eyes were twice their normal size. “Dalessandra is ready for you in your office, Mr. Ru—Dominic,” she squeaked. She pushed a drink carrier in our direction. “I ordered you a tea and a coffee.”

Dom paused, a puzzled frown on his lips. “Uh. Thank you, Ruth. That was… nice of you.”

Ruth gave what looked like a little curtsy and then turned bright red.

Dominic cleared his throat and picked up the tray. “Are you ready?” he asked me.

“As I’ll ever be,” I said grimly.

He turned and started down the hall. “Thanks for the drinks,” I whispered to Ruth.

“I can’t believe I curtsied! He’s just so hot it makes me stupid.”

“Preaching to the choir, my friend.”

“Good luck in there. Drinks tonight after dance?” she said.

No matter what happened in Dalessandra’s office, I was going to need a sweaty dance class and alcohol. “Yeah. Sounds good. I’ll text you.”

We found Dalessandra seated on the white silk sofa next to the head of HR, a woman with deeply etched frown lines bracketing her mouth. Clearly Jasmine had snapped her photo ID too. In it, she had one eye closed and something resembling a snarl twisting her mouth.

“Good morning, Dominic, Ally,” Dalessandra said, putting her teacup down on the oval glass coffee table. “Please, have a seat.” She gestured toward the white leather chairs across from her and Lady McFrowny.

“Morning,” Dominic said, sounding about as friendly as a pissed-off wolverine.

“I believe you two know Candace from HR,” Dalessandra continued.

I actually didn’t know her but didn’t feel like it was a good time to bring that up.

There wasn’t a hint of what kind of shoe was about to fall on me. Was it a steel-toed boot designed to smash me into the carpet? Or perhaps a designer stiletto that would skewer me.

“Hi,” I croaked out a forced greeting.

Dominic sent me a what the fuck look, then took my hand and squeezed. Hard. Whether it was a good idea to rub our physical affection in HR Lady’s face, I wasn’t sure. But the contact calmed me. We were in this together.

Dalessandra’s lips quirked.

“I’ll just go ahead and put you two out of your misery,” Candace announced, peeling what looked like legal contracts out of a folder.

“Am I fired?”

“Christ,” Dominic muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

“No one is fired,” Candace said dryly, sliding the pair of contracts toward us. I reached for mine, my sweaty fingers leaving smudges on the pristine glass beneath.

I skimmed over the first page looking for words like “termination” and “pack your shit” and “security is being called.”

“Since you two managed this budding relationship in a professional manner, the HR department is not opposed to allowing it to continue with a few caveats.”

Dominic squeezed my hand hard. Professional manner? He must not have mentioned me watching him masturbate in his office after-hours or me giving him a lap dance in his disclosure document.

“Which are?” he asked crisply.

“Ally will be transferred out of her current position and into a new placement at her current level of pay and benefits but further removed from your direct management.”

“Is that really necessary?” he asked, looking annoyed.

“It’s quite necessary,” she insisted.

I was busy scanning my document for the pertinent information. Graphics. I was being transferred to the graphics department. I was going to work for one of the premier publications in the world as a graphic designer, and I got to keep my hot boyfriend.

“I accept,” I said quickly.

All three of them looked at me, eyebrows raised.

A laugh bubbled up in my throat, and I covered it by choking on my coffee.

Dalessandra looked amused.

“In that case, Dominic, you’ll be assigned a new assistant until Greta returns,” Candace continued, peering over her glasses at him. “You and Ms. Morales will be expected to maintain a professional demeanor at all times during work hours.” Her gaze lingered on our linked hands. When I made a move to pull away, he merely tightened his grip.

“We’re not interested in creating any workplace drama,” Dominic said smoothly. “We are both serious about this relationship. I’m confident we can continue to do our jobs without allowing our personal lives to interfere.”

“Yeah. That,” I said, nodding effusively.

Dominic’s mouth quirked, and I knew he was going to tease me mercilessly for this student-principal interaction.

“Then I’d suggest that you speak as little as possible about this situation. We certainly don’t want to set a precedent that makes the rest of the staff feel like the rules are up for debate.”

They’d given us everything we could have wanted, but it still felt like a censure.

And I wasn’t cut out to be anyone’s secret girlfriend. I wasn’t going to lie to my friends just to make human resources more comfortable. There had been more than enough secrets kept within these walls. I was already shaking my head when Dominic met my eyes. He sighed.

“Ally and I would both prefer to be up front about this with our coworkers. We’re not interested in keeping secrets.”

Anymore. The word he hadn’t said hung in the air between us, shimmering like a neon sign that I hoped Dalessandra and Candace couldn’t see lest they start questioning us about the particulars of our relationship.

They shared a look.

“While our preference is that our employees keep their private lives private, perhaps a simple statement acknowledging the relationship and the reassignment will head off any unnecessary speculation,” Dalessandra suggested.

Dominic looked my way again, and I nodded vigorously.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll draft a statement and run it by HR.”

“Good enough for me,” Candace said. “Now, if you two will just sign those contracts stating you won’t let this relationship interfere with your working environment, we can all get back to work.”

I got the feeling Candace was annoyed that my silly love life was dragging her away from employee reprimands and benefits paperwork.

Hastily, I scrawled my signature on the contract, trying not to worry about words like “terminated” or “breach of contract” or “If for any reason you feel you are unable to adhere to the terms of this contract, please alert a human resources representative immediately.”

Dominic signed his contract without any outward reaction.

“Shall we all get back to our day?” Dalessandra asked with a smile.