Dominick finally reached the table. The men were about to stand up to greet him, but he stopped them with a wave of his hand.
He took a seat.
"I called you both here because, as you know, it's been twenty long days, and I suppose at least one of you has some news. A lead, something to find her," he muttered, trying to keep calm. He was extremely anxious.
The men, who had been chatting while waiting for Dominick's arrival, looked at each other.
"We haven't found anything, not a single clue. It's as if the person we're looking for doesn't even exist," exclaimed Denier.
"What?" Disbelief washed over Dom's handsome face.
"It's true," added Pablo Quintero. "We searched in all the airports, and they told us that the girl did leave the country on a private jet. The owner is Armand Vial." Dominick frowned. "The supposed destination was France, but there are no reports that the plane ever arrived. It's as if it vanished into thin air."
"How is that even possible?" Dom asked, rubbing his forehead. He was on the verge of losing his composure.
"We've done everything. We tried persuading some people for information, but nothing. We investigated that man, Armand," said Denier. "We know he's French and that he has business with Mr. Maximiliano Anderson. That man is..."
"I know who he is," Dominick interrupted, clenching his fists. His mind began to race, and an idea crossed his thoughts.
"I don't think it'll be easy to find her," Denier blurted out. "We discovered that man disappeared for a while, and no one knew about him until over a year later."
He was furious. He didn't want to think that his friend knew Jade's whereabouts, had seen him suffer, and said nothing.
"We're sorry, but we can't lie to you. I've been doing this job for years, and I've never experienced anything like this. Every person leaves a trace, but that woman has been the exception... You'd better give up, because I doubt you'll ever find her."
"Don't you dare say that again!" Dominick roared, grabbing him by the collar and silencing him with his action.
Everyone at the other tables turned to whisper about what was happening.
"Let him go," Denier exclaimed. "Pablo is right. You need to accept reality. That woman doesn't want to be found, and if we couldn't do it, I doubt anyone else can."
Dom glared at him, furious. He released Pablo, who shot him a nasty look.
"If that's your attitude all the time, I can imagine why the girl ran away from you," Pablo said, outraged by Dominick's behavior. "Goodbye."
The men left, abandoning a livid Dominick.
His chest rose and fell heavily; his face was flushed red with rage.
"Damn it!" he bellowed, yanking the tablecloth and shattering the glassware on top. Gasps rippled through the people around him.
Dominick turned around, storming out of the restaurant in a hurry. He would go get answers from Maximiliano's office. He stepped into the elevator, pacing back and forth.
"This can't be happening!" he slammed his fist against the metal wall. "Damn you, Armand Vial!"
The metallic box opened its doors, and like a raging bull he charged out, striding down the hallway with heavy steps. As always, he didn't knock—he shoved the office door open so hard it slammed against the wall.
Maximiliano lifted his gaze from his papers, frowning at the state Dominick was in.
"What's wrong with you?" Maxi stood up. "Marcus left a while ago, he had to go back..." The brunette noticed something was very off. Dom approached menacingly and grabbed him by the collar.
"Tell me you don't know where she is! Tell me you didn't dare hide it from me!" he demanded, raising his voice.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Maxi said through gritted teeth. He freed himself from Dominick's grip.
"That man, Armand Vial—I remembered who he is. He's your damn French friend! That bastard took Jade, and I can't believe that as his friend you didn't know! I demand answers!" Dom clenched his fists, restraining himself from hitting his friend.
"You're not going to come here and think you can question me," Maximiliano hissed, clearly displeased with his friend's tone. "Of course I know Armand left with Jade, but he didn't take her-she asked him to go, and you know perfectly well why." His voice was rising with irritation.
Dominick felt a blow to his chest; he knew this was all his fault.
"Answer the question," he pressed, fists trembling.
"No," Maximiliano replied, sitting back down. "Armand told me he wouldn't say anything, and Jade didn't want anyone to know where they were. She doesn't want you to find her."
"I don't care!" Dom shouted, running his hands through his disheveled hair. "I'm going to find out where she is, even if I have to hire a whole squad of investigators!"
"Do whatever you want, you're a grown man," Maxi replied.
"I hope that if you know something..."
"Don't get confused, Dominick," the brunette interrupted him, "just because I set aside what you did for the sake of our friendship doesn't mean I've forgotten. I don't know where Jade is, and I doubt she'll let anyone find out. But no matter how I see you, you won't hear anything from my mouth. I'm sorry, but she's better off far away from you. Hate me if you want, but deep down you know I'm right. You're toxic for her." His words left Dominick speechless. "If you'll excuse me..." he gestured toward the door, "I have work to do."
Dominick didn't reply. He simply walked out of the office, unable to shake the feeling of betrayal, even though he knew his friend was right—he was toxic for the girl.
He stepped into the elevator.
That damned bitter feeling filled him again. He had fought so hard against his anxiety, battled it with nothing but the hope of good news as his support, but that day everything crumbled once more. The weight of the situation crashed down on him for the second time.
He left the elevator and the hotel, hailed a cab, and returned to the luxurious club where he had been shot. He went straight to the bar. This time he had no desire to take in the place, nor admire its elegant decoration—he just wanted to drown in waves of alcohol, to lose himself, to pass out like never before. The sensation he felt was incomparable. His mind searched for a memory as bitter, as painful as what he was going through... The guilt that consumed him made him feel miserable, and he couldn't stop thinking about his friend's words.
He ordered a bottle of cognac and began drinking, remembering, cursing himself for the fool he had always been. Had he really always been like that? He smiled bitterly. He had once been a good man—happy, loving, calm. He stared at the bottle for a few seconds. He had never drunk more than three glasses unless it was necessary. Dominick had given so much of himself to Jazmín that when he discovered her betrayal, he felt lost. His life lost all meaning. He had loved her deeply, and she never knew how to value it.
The next half hour passed with him drinking, asking the bartender questions that the man was already tired of answering. A blonde who worked at the club sat down on his right.
"Hi, handsome. Why all alone?" she asked.
"Who are you?" he asked, looking her up and down, squinting to focus.
"I'm Siria. I work here," she introduced herself.
"Go away, Siria," he muttered, taking another swig from the bottle.
"May I ask why?" she frowned.
"I don't want to be rude, that's all. I don't want any trouble either..." another drink. "I just want to drink in peace."
"Don't worry, I won't—"
"You heard him, Siria. Leave," ordered Lizet, appearing on Dom's other side.
"You don't tell me what to do," the blonde growled. The two women exchanged deadly stares while Dominick, oblivious to the tension between them, kept drinking straight from the bottle.
"Siria, for your own sake, you shouldn't contradict me," Lizet hissed.
Siria burst out laughing.
"If you think sleeping with Gavin and being his new personal whore gives you the right to boss me around, you're wrong," the blonde lifted her chin defiantly. "Plenty have been in his bed, and none of them managed to take my place. Don't think you're special."
"I won't stoop to your level..."
"Siria, it's better if you go," the bartender advised. "Gavin is—"
"I don't care," the blonde snapped, bumping shoulders with Lizet as she stormed off.
"Bitch," the dark-haired woman hissed. "Dominick, what are you doing here?"
He had let his head fall against the bar, but now he raised it.
"Drinking..." he lifted the bottle. "Isn't it obvious?"
The girl rolled her eyes.
"Has he paid?" she asked the bartender. The man nodded.
"Here's his card," the bartender handed it to her.
She took it and turned to Dominick.
"Come on, I'm getting you out of here," she said. Dom stared at her for a few seconds, then shifted his gaze back to the bottle. "I'll give you alcohol if you come with me," she lied. "Isn't that what you want?"
Dominick stood up, and she had to help him, because all the time he had spent sitting was finally catching up to him.
"My God, how much have you had to drink?" she asked, making him drape an arm around her shoulders. "Come on, I'll help you."
"I didn't drink that much," he chuckled.
"Doesn't seem that way," she muttered, taking a few steps with him.
A tall, burly man dressed all in black blocked their way.
"Miss Collins, the boss sent me to fetch you," he said.
"And who's this mastodon?" Dominick looked at him.
The man raised an eyebrow.
"Dominick, shut up. Alfredo, tell the boss..." she glanced upward, knowing he was watching her from the VIP area, "...that he can shove his apologies up his ass and go to hell. Goodbye, Alfredo." She waved him off. "Come on, Dominick."
Somehow she managed to get him out of the club. Though he could still speak clearly, his walk was far from steady.
The woman helped Dom into her car.
"Get in, drunkard," she muttered, struggling to open the door without dropping him. She got him inside, pulled the key from her bra, climbed into the driver's seat, and started the engine.
Thirty minutes later she parked in front of a luxurious apartment building. She drove into the private parking area, got Dominick out, and guided him into the elevator. She pressed the button and entered the code for her penthouse. Three minutes later they were in her foyer.
She walked him inside while he mumbled things that made no sense to her.
The penthouse was spacious, clearly a man's home—dark tones, little decoration, and an impersonal atmosphere. Three paintings, placed strategically around the place.
"Let's drop you here." She let him fall onto the couch.
"Now give me my alcohol," he ordered, letting his head fall back.
"Just one glass, okay?"
Dom gave a crooked smile and nodded as best he could.
"You know..." she looked at him, "when I left the club, I wondered why I was bringing you to my place. I'm still questioning it."
She dropped ice into two glasses, poured the liquor, and walked over to the couch.
"Want to tell me why you drink so much?" she handed him the glass. "The first time I saw you, you said it was because you're an idiot."
"You want to hear me out?" He downed the drink in one gulp.
"I've got nothing better to do." She shrugged, set her own glass on the table, and stood up. "But first, I'll get more comfortable-I need to get out of this."
Dominick's eyes traveled down her body. She was wrapped in a tight red dress that highlighted her curves. She was stunning.
The girl turned away, and Dom's gaze followed her. The penthouse had almost no divisions, giving the impression it was just one enormous room. Her "bedroom" was separated only by a kind of woven wood screen. Dominick didn't know what it was called at that moment, but through its small openings he caught glimpses of her bare upper body.
He shook himself, then reached for the drink she had left behind...
Lizet came out of her "room" and burst into laughter when she saw her glass empty and Dominick clutching the bottle.
She snatched it from him.
"You said just one."
"I only nodded. I didn't say yes with my mouth-it doesn't count," he argued.
"Don't be ridiculous." She rolled her eyes. "I'm listening."
Dominick hesitated. He didn't know her... Did he really want to be judged by yet another person? He exhaled sharply. What did it matter anymore? He had already lost all hope. All he had left was to unburden himself with her before drowning again in alcohol.
So he told her everything-his outbursts, how stupid and foolish he had been with Jade, the times he insulted her, and even the times the blonde had struck him. He left nothing out. Every fight, every clash between them he recounted that night, sparing only a few intimate details. He cried in regret before a woman who soon embraced him, but who didn't say a word until he had finished...