Dom brought all the clothing and makeup to become Domino when he went to the studio on Monday. He should have gotten up early. Hell, he’d gone to bed as soon has he’d gotten home from Adrian’s and slept through the night. He could have.
But his heart hadn’t been in it. Because reality had come crashing back down on Dom the moment he’d cracked his eyes open in his empty room in his empty house.
He’d told Adrian that he loved him. He was in love with Adrian Doran.
That should have been a happy realization, but as he stared up at his white ceiling, all he could think about was stepping out onstage as Dominic, not Domino.
And that filled him with terror.
His heart pounded against his rib cage and he kept coming back to that vision of everyone discovering that Domino wasn’t a rock god at all but a nerd under all that leather and makeup. Ray might think he was the best guitarist, but that couldn’t be right.
Except Ray didn’t lie about shit like that.
Dom buried his head under the pillow, and fought against the throbbing in his head and the bitter taste in his mouth.
He’d remained in bed far past when he should have gotten up to sneak out as Domino as he tried to talk his panicked mind out of the spinning and spinning it’d gotten itself into. Except that wasn’t really working too well this morning. His brain wouldn’t shut up.
So he’d thrown all of Domino’s things in a duffel and slinked into the studio about a half hour late. He waited for Ray to give him crap, but his best friend’s eyes only widened as he slumped down into his seat.
Zavier, as usual, said nothing, but very loudly.
“Hon, are you all right?” Mish took the duffel from his shoulder and pulled him into her arms.
Damn it, he was not going to cry, he was not going to—and then he was, weeping into Mish’s shoulder.
She crooned at him. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”
“It’s a panic attack,” he murmured. “Just a panic attack. I need...” Air. He took a breath and let Mish guide him to a chair. His panic wormed its way through his body, setting his heart on triple time, shaking his hands.
Fuck, he needed this to stop. It had been a while, and there was no reason for it. None.
Except being caught between Domino and Dominic and needing to be both people at the same time. Wanting to bring Adrian into this side of his life, but being too terrified to do it.
A moment later, Ray crouched at his feet, a bottle of water in his hand, which he offered to Dom. “Hey, there’s no one here who doesn’t love you.”
Dom hiccupped a laugh, the tears dried-up but his body still shaking and hot-cold. “I know. It’s—nothing.”
Ray sat on the floor and Dom met his gaze. “Dom, we’ve known each other since we were fourteen. This ain’t nothing.”
Rather than reply, Dom cracked open the water bottle and drank. Mish was at his back, Ray at his front. That left one other bandmate. “Zav, where are you?”
“Here.” He was over on Dom’s left, leaning against a nearby table that held more water and some snacks. “Didn’t know what help I could be.”
“I used to get panic attacks before concerts, when we started playing live. Even when I was dressed as Domino, I’d need about an hour to get myself into a good enough space to step out onstage. I was always worried someone would find me out and realize I wasn’t the rocker people thought.” Not the kick-ass guitarist.
Zavier pushed off the table. “You’re an incredibly talented musician, Dom.” He came and stood near Ray. “And I don’t say that lightly.”
No, he didn’t. Zavier was honest almost to a fault when it came to music and whether something worked and sounded good. He’d even call Ray out if songs weren’t coming together right.
“I know. It’s...not a lack of confidence.”
“It’s a change in your life,” Ray said, almost to himself.
Zavier looked thoughtful.
“That boy toy of yours giving you trouble?” Mish rubbed Dom’s shoulders, and man, that felt good.
He took another draw of water. “Just the opposite.” He paused. “And he’s like...nine years older? Not exactly a boy toy.”
Ray’s eyebrows shot up. “So it’s serious?”
Zavier huffed. “It’s been serious since day one, I think.”
Interesting how embarrassment could pull him out of panic. This was the kind of stuff he knew, was used to. Loved about his bandmates. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m feeling better. Maybe we should practice?”
“Have you told him?” Zavier’s question rammed a spike of terror right back into Dom’s soul. He struggled to shrug it off, blinking a few times.
“Zav!” Ray looked up at his husband, then back to Dom. “Tell him what?”
“About the band,” Dom said.
That got him a look of confusion. Then Ray kicked his foot and his voice pitched high. “You still haven’t told him about the band?”
“I—No. I mean, if it turned out to be a fling, I didn’t want him to run off and tell anyone.”
Mish patted his shoulders again. “He that kinda guy?”
“No.”
Zavier shifted, and Dom looked up at him. “I suspect even if you parted ways, he’d keep your secrets, Dom.” The way Zavier said that made Ray look up again.
Oh yeah, Ray was gonna put two and two together and figure out what Dom had already figured out about him and Zav—there was more going on than just sex. There was submission and domination and giving yourself over to someone you needed to care for you.
And for Dom, at least, there was bone-deep love, too.
Zavier was right, though. “Yeah, I know he would. And yeah, I know I need to tell him. It’s just—” Dom waved his hand. “Old fears.”
That he wasn’t good enough. That he’d never be good enough. He could hide that from the others by being Domino, but he could never hide from himself.
Zavier held his gaze. “Tell him, Dom. Trust is an important thing.”
Ray’s cheeks reddened. “Oh shit. You—” He caught himself. “We probably should get to practicing.”
Mish sighed. “You boys and the secrets you think you’re keeping.”
Zavier laughed and helped Ray up.
Dom didn’t bother with changing into Domino’s clothes. Didn’t need to, actually. He picked up his guitar and within fifteen minutes was lost in the throes of one of their new songs. Here, with the band, in the studio, he could be that blend of Domino and Dominic he longed to be everywhere.
But the terror still haunted in his mind, even if he knew much of it was unfounded.
During their next break, he texted Adrian. Dinner Friday?
Of course! Would you mind a night out on the town?
Chance to see you in a suit and for you to embarrass me? Never.
He could almost hear the laughter in Adrian’s reply. Babe, I live for those moments.
So did he. This Friday, then. He’d tell Adrian this Friday, because Ray and Zavier were right. He needed to tell Adrian. Needed to trust. Then they could go have dinner and share dessert and maybe the future, too. Looking forward to it.
After practice, he slipped into Domino, makeup and all, and strode out of the studio. Tonight they had a radio interview, then a dinner in the city. Time to see and be seen.
* * *
On Thursday at the gym, Jackson made a quip about the bruise on Adrian’s shoulder. It was pretty damn obvious. A result of a rather passionate but quick encounter with Dominic the previous evening.
“You’ve got yourself a biter.”
Yes, he did. Not always, but Dominic had practically climbed his body as soon as he’d walked into Adrian’s house.
He turned his back and showed Jackson the scratches there, then threw a grin over his shoulder.
His friend laughed. “Oh man, Adi, I haven’t seen you looking like that in ages.”
Not since he and Jackson had last fucked—and that had been quite a while. “He’s quite something,” Adrian said.
That got him a nod. “Don’t let it go to your head, but this relationship shit looks good on you.”
Adrian snorted and pulled on a tank top, covering up his back.
“I’m serious, man. This is the happiest I’ve seen you.” No quips, no sly grin. No, this was Jackson being honest.
Heat raced to Adrian’s cheeks. “Thanks. I—yeah, it’s been real good.”
Heartbreakingly good. Sensual, loving, hot, too. Last night, Dominic had shown up unexpectedly on his porch, freshly showered but so full of energy and need he’d practically burst through the door and into Adrian’s arms. They hadn’t even made it up to the bedroom—clothes had come off in the hallway, been scattered everywhere, and they’d bitten and scrabbled at each other until he’d lifted and carried the moaning, begging Dominic into the living room and fucked him hard and fast on the rug in front of the couch. Dominic had clawed and scratched and urged him on.
It had been fast, messy, and perfect.
“Is he the one?” There was something in Jackson’s voice that Adrian, in all the years they’d been friends, hadn’t heard before. It was both warm and sad.
He hip-checked Jackson, wanting the sadness to vanish and not wanting to answer his question. “Come on, Jack. Do your worst with me this morning.”
Jackson chuckled. “Fine, Irish boy. Let’s go run.”
And they did, at a pace that was just a tad too fast to be comfortable for Adrian, as if Jackson was punishing him for not replying. When they finished, he was winded, and even Jackson looked a little tired.
Miracle of miracles. Adrian piled his hands on top of his head as they walked some cool-down laps. “I don’t believe that there’s one singular person who is an utter match or soul mate or whatever.”
Jackson glanced at him. “That’s cold.”
Adrian lowered his arms, his breathing ticking down closer to normal. “Is it? I mean, under that theory, if you miss your chance, then you’re shit out of luck.”
This time, the gaze was more thoughtful. “Okay, there is that.”
Silence for another lap.
“Dominic pushes pretty much all of my buttons, and hard. Intellectual. Sexual.” Adrian shrugged. “If you’re asking if this is serious... I think it could be.”
“The man has a name!” They headed down to the weight room. “But ‘could be’? Sounds like it is.”
“For me.” Adrian didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that his heart was sitting on the line now. “But I’m not so sure for him.”
“Why not?”
Because afterward, when he and Dominic had lain on the floor and caught their breath, Adrian had asked, “What brought that on?”
Dominic had huffed a laugh and bent one of his legs, eyes still closed. “Fucking awesome practice. When we play that good—”
And it had been like a switch had been thrown. Dominic opened his eyes wide and sucked in a breath, and then there’d been an awkward silence.
After a moment, Dominic had crawled to his feet and collected his clothing.
Adrian finished three reps of arm curls before answering Jackson. “Because he doesn’t trust me with the thing that’s most important in his life. I’ve...been trying to be patient.”
Jackson had him on swats next. Fucking squats. Fucking Bosu ball.
“Time to press the issue then. I would.” Jackson shook his head. “Then again, what the fuck do I know about love?” He got that odd look again.
“Wait—Jack, are you seeing someone?”
Jackson’s skin darkened, but his lips quirked up. “Maybe.”
“Do tell!”
A shake of his head. “Not yet. If it turns to something more, I’ll unload on you, but for now, it’s time for your least favorite exercise.”
Adrian closed his eyes and tried not to throttle his friend. If he hated the Bosu, he loathed burpees.
The rest of the talk swung toward work, and by the time they made it into the office, Jackson had updated him on his job search—he’d gone for a second interview at the company he’d been vying for. The whole thing, he said, looked promising.
That twisted Adrian’s stomach, which turned even more when they’d compared notes on the glitches in the programming they’d both run into. “William,” Adrian muttered.
Jackson grunted and smacked his badge against the pad to get into the office.
Adrian followed Jackson through the door. “Maybe I should talk to Russ about him.” Their boss.
“Good luck with that,” Jackson said, entering his cube. “You know how that’ll turn out.”
Yeah, he did. But what else could he do? Something had to give—they were losing time and energy to William’s bad programming.
When he got to his own cube, he woke his computer up, logged in, and went to grab a cup of coffee.
When he got back, the screen on his phone had darkened, and he scrambled to check it. A text. From Dominic.
Hey. Wanted to thank you again for last night. I know I was moody, but I really needed you.
Moody was one way of putting it. After sex and letting slip a tidbit about his mysterious band, Dominic had been on edge until Adrian had pulled him into his arms and just held him. It had taken a good ten minutes before either of them had spoken, and it had been Adrian. “Would you like something to eat?”
Dominic had pressed his forehead against Adrian’s chest. “I’m sorry.” It was a whisper, and it made Adrian’s heart ache.
He ran his fingers through Dominic’s hair—it had grown in the time they’d known each other, and there was an untamable aspect to it now. “That’s not really an answer to the question of dinner.”
A huff, and Dominic drew back. “I probably should eat. But I don’t want to be a bother.” Fear and sadness there. That internal conflict Adrian saw, but could never touch. Whatever the issue, it had Dominic in its iron grip.
So he’d drawn Dominic into a sweet kiss, then whispered against those lips, “You’re never a bother.”
And that was true. Dominic was tangled and entwined into Adrian’s life now, and it hurt that he wouldn’t share with Adrian the passion that mattered. But he was never a bother.
He texted back, I’m glad I can be here for you, Dominic. He wanted to add more, wanted to say “Please trust me” or “I love you.” But those seemed too pushy, too much for a text. So he set the phone down and started working through his inbox.
Dominic had said the words, an answer to his own whisper. Adrian had thought Dominic hadn’t heard. But where he knew his own feelings, Dominic’s had been voiced after being tied up for the first time, an emotional and overloading situation. The last thing Adrian wanted to do was take advantage of something Dominic might not have meant. He needed to hear those words when Dominic was clear-headed.
There weren’t any more texts after that one, and Adrian pushed aside the worry about that. They’d had a pleasant dinner last night, and reaffirmed their date for Friday.
Besides, he really needed to focus on why he’d been copied on this chain of emails. The problem they were discussing wasn’t in any of the features he was responsible for. He let out a frustrated sigh, scrolled to the bottom of the email chain, and started reading up. About halfway through it, he sat up straight, his blood boiling.
William had inserted code for one of the modules Adrian had developed for an entirely different project smack into the middle of this one with barely any changes.
Oh hell no. He was not being blamed for this fuckup. And he certainly wasn’t going to clean up William’s mess this time. He was all for reusing code, but this was ridiculous. You didn’t just drop one function into another project without so much as testing the damn thing.
A glance told him Russ had been copied on the mail. Good. He rose and strode to his boss’s office—and found William sitting on one end of it, in conversation with Russ.
Well, fuck. Adrian schooled his features and knocked gently on the frame. “Hey, Russ, when you get a moment, can I speak with you?”
Russ’s smile was one of those managerial ones. Pleasant, but without honest emotion and warmth behind it. “Sure. I’ll stop by.”
“Nah.” William stood. “I should get back to things.” He pushed something that looked suspiciously like tickets to a Yankees game closer to Russ, then turned. “He’s all yours, Adrian.”
In contrast, William’s grin was infused with feeling, but all the wrong ones. Spite. Malice. He slipped past Adrian without touching him.
Yeah, this was not going to go how he’d planned. Not with a buttered-up boss. Shit.
Russ gestured at his guest chair, and Adrian took it. “So, what’s up?” Russ folded his hands in front of him.
Adrian chose straightforward. “Did you get a chance to read this morning’s email from the Brada team yet?”
Russ nodded. “Looks like you have your work cut out for you.”
“But it’s not my code and I haven’t been working on that system. I’m...not sure how I’m supposed to fix this for them.” He paused. “Not when I’m also cleaning up code issues in our own products.”
“William said you were struggling.”
Adrian’s head felt like it might explode, the rage so sudden, it momentarily stole his breath. He wrestled it back under control. “I’m not struggling. Not with my own code. Not with my developer responsibilities.” He took another breath. “In fact, quite a lot of my work lately has been cleaning up William’s coding changes. He broke bits and pieces of critical infrastructure.”
Russ waved his hand. “He was improving speed and tightening the code. It was bound to expose weaknesses...”
There hadn’t been any weaknesses. And no need for a rewrite. Adrian swallowed.
Russ leaned forward. “Look, Adrian, I know the customers love you. And your work on your trip was invaluable. But since you’ve been back, your quality’s slipping. I don’t think William should be picking up your slack.”
“...picking up...” Adrian straightened. “How are the issues with Brada my slack? I’m not on that team.”
Russ shrugged. “You are now. Run with it.”
Fucking hell. Adrian stared at Russ.
“Anything else?”
“No,” Adrian snapped, and rose. “Thanks for having my back, Russ.”
Another fake smile, and Adrian was out the door. Shit fucking hell. He contemplated marching to William’s cube and strangling the asshole—but murder would only complicate his life.
When he got back to his cube, he fired off an IM to Jackson. Guess who’s putting out fires on Brada now?
Ah hell, man. That joker do you, too?
Didn’t have to ask who Jackson meant. Affirmative.
Beers? 6 PM?
Yes, please. Would ruin the workout, but so did stress. Adrian ran a hand over his face and checked his phone. Another text from Dominic.
I really appreciate it. You’re the best, Adrian.
He stared at the text, then set his phone aside, the tangle in his stomach pulling tighter and burning deeper.
Because he didn’t quite believe what Dominic had said. Felt more like placation than actual affection. Or his fucking job, his well enough job, was getting to him. Either or. Probably the job. God, he should take on some freelance job to have an outlet, but he had no time right now.
Beer tonight with Jackson sounded fantastic, though. He really needed to get his head screwed on better.