Kiko looked nervous, not his confident, bubbly self. Dom didn’t like that, not at all. He examined the person standing next to Kiko—tall, at ease. Dom had seen him put his hand on Kiko’s from the door, had seen Kiko pull away, and yet…the sooner this man left, the better.
“Dom,” said Kiko, sounding tired, “this is the chef, Sander Koch.”
“You know each other?” asked Dom as Sander put his hand out. Something wasn’t right. They were too familiar with each other. He ignored the hand.
“Sander, this is Dominic Grady.”
“We’re together,” said Dom, not caring that it was blunt.
Sander retracted his hand.
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d go for the jealous type, Kiko,” he said, and Dom tried not to cringe. He didn’t like the familiarity, and he didn’t like that Kiko hadn’t told him about this.
