Indulge: Second Chance Romance

9- Aftermath

DJ

As a true Italian boy, I never denied that women and pasta were serious weaknesses. Still, it was rare to never that I didn’t know when I was being a sucker.

Even with my ex. Swapping had never been my thing. It worked for my parents, but I was way too possessive. The only time the sharing situation worked for me was with my buddy Dom.

I know Dominic was a dime a dozen when it came to Italians. The man was the best friend I could ever ask for, but he was married to his work. Strange was strange to him, and pairing with him never involved me stepping down or handing my girl off to another man.

Only doubling down on the experience she had.

Dom’s rigidity was in no small part why I trusted him, even more than the females we shared. Guess the bros-before-hoes bond played as much of a role as his steadfast, black-and-white view on the world—being a lawyer.

Bad example. He wouldn’t be the best at what he did if he didn’t know how to bend the rules. Law was also a world of gray to those who did it well, requiring as much creativity as it did character. Not even doctors dealt with all the dirty secrets and laundry lawyers had to navigate without breaking confidence.

I never cheated on Penny, but we did try a few fetish clubs when things were rough. You’d think my best friend coming to me and telling me my wife was trying to jump him would be the end of our relationship.

Nope.

It only solidified it—for the fact that he came to me when she didn’t.

Penelope and I had been on the rocks a long time, but hell if I was going to admit the only reason I married her was because she was pregnant. Italian boy or not, there was a limit to how much meddling I could stand. I figured I’d grown out of the stupid after dabbling with “drugs,” if you could even call weed that.

I was never dumb enough to touch the hard stuff and still drank and toked in moderation. Extremes were mild when dealing with an Italian woman, and the way she made it out, I was a junkie in rehab when my dad pulled me from the ring for popping positive with THC.

Our relationship as a whole went to s**t after Penelope. The one thing I didn’t fight him on, regardless of my “rebellious stage,” was Dad making me sign a prenup. Her cutting them out of my life, or trying to with that, should have been proof enough of what she was.

Not like I had a choice with her carrying my kid, but I can’t say I don’t regret it.

Penny having a “miscarriage” right after our honeymoon left me feeling like an absolute schmuck.

Eventually, we did have a baby girl.

At the time I was bitter enough that I didn’t stop her from cutting my parents out of my life.

Even if I wanted to at the time, she was actually pregnant and using my daughter as a bargaining chip in everything we did. Dom coming to me was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He’d always maintained a good balance between my attorney and my friend, but both collided in a divorce arraignment for the ages, and I had to say I was glad the man was married to his job.

This was a getaway my mom arranged, wanting to heal old wounds. I also knew her well enough to know that it wasn’t that straightforward. I reasoned that it would be where I was heading anyway, wanting every flavor of debauchery to exist after four years with… that woman.

I just didn’t expect to find the entire rainbow in one woman.

Least of all, the first one I met getting off the plane.

Dove was everything I was looking for without realizing it, topped with the feeling that I’d known her forever. I let her walk away on the beach. The whole point of a hedonist resort was to screw in any possible way with as many partners as you desired.

I’d also been missing a more assertive role in the bedroom, given that Penelope was impossibly bland. At least when it came to me. She had all her ideas on what she wanted and wouldn’t really tolerate anything resembling a command.

The stunning, intelligent, intoxicating little thing I found, though… she craved it.

It didn’t matter how strong or sarcastic she came off. I could see the need and loneliness in her. The way she reacted to me could only be a broken heart’s response. Or a master manipulator.

Had I really been broken? Penny twisted me for so long, using our son as a pawn against me. Could I really not tell when I was being played anymore?

It twisted in my gut and hit like a ten-pound hammer when I overheard her conversation.

“Alright, honey, I have to get to work, but you can call anytime.”

Did she plan to answer the phone when I was f*****g her brains out?

“Love you too, and I’ll be back in a couple of weeks.”

A damned building falling on my head would have been less of a mindfuck. She was so damn sweet and so incredibly responsive. I couldn’t stand it. I’d only spent a day with her, but I missed my Dove the second I contemplated never seeing her again.

Why was she upset?

She’d just had incredible s*x and talked to her partner. Was guilt eating her? Why did her eyes look so broken coming out of her room?

Why did I care?

I would not be played again. I would not be used and walked over. I may have been a Dom in the bedroom, but everywhere else I was an Italian boy and a complete submissive to my women.

Ellie POV

The couple I couldn’t get away from, showing up on my forge-the-asshole trip… It took most of my reserve not to knock on DJ’s door.

I wanted to see him again.

What worried me more about that was the fact that it wasn’t s*x I wanted him for. I just wanted to smile with him and feel his arms around me. I craved that air of certainty, security, and how he handled every situation with confidence.

I suppose it just proved how broken I really was. How little self-respect I had to let someone like that hurt me. The instant urge to run to him made me hate myself more. I should have just slept with DJ the first night and not spent so much time with him.

I truly was desperate if I was considering running to a big, strong man I didn’t know from Adam and convincing myself I had. Letting some fantasy play where it was kismet, rather than a random hookup, at a place literally made for no-strings-attached s*x.

If we’d just done that, I’d still have the lingering s*x glow without all the nagging questions and upset of being made to feel special and then just haphazardly tossed aside again.

Ugh. Ass. You knew what it was. Don’t blame him.

For the countless time since we split, I cursed Ben for ruining my morning. Not anything new, but damn, I wanted to hold on to the illusion that I was happy and over it all, but at the moment I hurt again. I wanted to cry again, and I had to face Annette and Anton.

Shuffling into the elevator doors as quickly as I could before either the couple I couldn’t get rid of or the tears stinging my eyes caught up, my bitchier side chose to be my ally once again. Ripping someone other than me a new asshole.

FUCK THAT! He was the jerk, not me. Ben was the one who ended it, who ruined it, who betrayed me, and no, I wasn’t faultless, but I refused to spend one more second destroying myself and my dignity for that jackass!

I am capable. I am talented, intelligent, and witty! My inner voice declared. I was also sexy enough for DJ to take to bed.

More than that, I was charming enough that he was willing to take his time doing it rather than just go through every flavor of the s*x rainbow that would have mounted him in the day he spent with me.

The inner lecture resolved to the fact that I was a damned good woman, and it wasn’t my problem that Ben neither saw nor wanted that. He chose an infant and was reaping exactly what he sowed with that decision.

His loss, I huffed, mentally thanking DJ for the confidence boost that did exactly what it was meant to. Thankful that my inner b***h kicked in just in time for Ben to follow me—and praying that the internal battle wasn’t nearly as intense outside as it was in my head.

Especially with none other than the man I’d spent the night with following him in.