CHAPTER FIVE

IT WAS STARTING.

As always, the end of Thanksgiving celebrations was the signal for the Christmas season to begin. Conversations in the staffroom included queries about who would be entering the annual Christmas cookie competition that was approaching and reminders that the last tickets for the fundraiser gala ball on the twelfth of December were being snapped up so people needed to hurry if they wanted to attend the glamorous event. Snatches of Christmas music could be heard already in the cafés and shops, and decorations began appearing in corners of departments and wards throughout Seattle General.

It only became official on the first day of December, however, with the installation of Christmas trees in the hospital’s huge, glass-walled atrium. One massive spruce tree stretched high into the impressive space of this entrance, with a slightly smaller tree beside it, both wearing identical decorations of sparkling, white fairy lights, frosted glass icicles and silver balls of various sizes. Beneath the trees there was thick, fluffy, white fabric bunched up to look like drifts of snow.

Not that Emilia was taking any notice of the trees as she rushed past, cheeks still glowing from the early run she and Dom had completed at the park. Her trauma team pager had sounded as she pulled on a clean set of scrubs in the orthopaedic department’s surgical locker room but, even if she wasn’t already totally focussed on what might be waiting for her in the ER, she would have ignored the blatant symbols of the upcoming celebration. Memories of Thanksgiving days in her childhood were insignificant compared to those surrounding Christmas Day and none of them were happy memories. Emilia had learned that the joy of Christmas was for other people. For children who had their own families. Who were wanted. And loved...

The decorations and the music of the season, festive flashing jewellery and headbands with reindeer antlers or Santa hats attached, gift wrapping and special food were all part of a background clutter that she could ignore or tolerate for a few weeks of every year. It didn’t even bother her particularly now. In the same way that Emilia had learned that standing out from the crowd in terms of academic achievement could change your life for the better, she was well practised in the art of distracting herself from any personal emotional disturbance by using mindfulness. And there couldn’t be a better way of being entirely present than being involved in the fight to save someone’s life.

Becoming totally involved was inevitable from the moment Emilia arrived in the ER. Due to it being a shift change-over period, with the department already busy, things were more chaotic than usual. On top of that, there seemed to have been little warning that a serious trauma case was on its way. The ambulance had already arrived and the patient was being rushed into Resus as both Emilia and Dom came through the doors. Dom probably wasn’t even due to start his shift yet and he looked as if he’d not long stepped out of a shower. It also looked like he’d towel dried his hair but hadn’t had a chance to comb it.

The thought that looking unusually tousled achieved what should have been impossible—in that it instantly increased the man’s attractiveness—was fleeting enough to be no more than a blink as Emilia reached for a pair of gloves from the wall dispenser at the same moment as Dom. They caught each other’s gazes for a heartbeat and it was a relief for Emilia that there was nothing personal in that shared glance, like any awareness of appearance or perhaps the recognition of how much closer they’d become in the days since that shared Thanksgiving dinner disaster or even how much more time they’d been spending together. The silent message that flashed between them was a very different kind of recognition. One that acknowledged a shared determination to do their best for this patient, no matter what they might be up against.

Dom snapped his gloves on as he turned towards the ambulance crew. ‘Talk to me,’ he commanded, stepping closer to the gurney.

‘This is a gentleman in his early seventies, we believe. Name’s Brian Butcher.’ The paramedic leaned down as his patient groaned loudly. ‘It’s okay, Brian. We’re at the hospital. Try not to move...’

His junior crew partner took over. ‘Fall from height,’ he told Dom. ‘Maybe fifteen feet? He was up on his roof, putting one of those Santa Claus decorations up—the ones where it’s just the legs sticking out of the chimney, you know?’

It only took a quirk of Dom’s eyebrow to let the EMT know that it was only the clinical details that were needed urgently.

‘The fall was partially broken by shrubbery but he landed on a concrete driveway,’ the senior paramedic continued. ‘GCS was eight on arrival with eye opening to pain, incomprehensible speech and withdrawal to pain. Blood pressure of ninety systolic, tachycardic at one thirty. Initial IV access failed and we were so close we decided it was better to just load and go.’

Emilia had her gloves on now and she also stepped closer. She could understand that IV access had probably been difficult due to the obesity of this patient. It could mean that airway management would also prove challenging but the immediate concern was getting enough staff on hand to move him from the gurney to the bed. Where was everybody? She and Dom had been joined by an intern and two nurses but there were people missing.

‘Lucas back yet?’ Dom asked. ‘Is he with the team in Resus One dealing with that bus versus pedestrian?’

‘No. But I can see if they can spare anyone,’ a nurse responded.

‘Who’s rostered to take his place on airway management for the trauma team?’

‘Didn’t you pencil in the new guy that’s starting today?’ the intern asked. ‘Logan somebody? I don’t think he’s arrived yet, though.’

‘Connors,’ Dom murmured. ‘But I wouldn’t throw him in the deep end like this. Not on his first day, anyway. I was expecting Lucas would be back to get him up to speed with the team.’ He shook his head, as if dismissing information that was no more than a distraction. ‘I’ll do it. Grab a sliding board and see if anyone else is nearby to help for a minute. Let’s get Brian onto the bed, stat. I’m not liking the sound of that stridor.’

The noisy breath sounds were a warning that the man’s airway was becoming obstructed which could be due to factors such as swelling, bleeding or aspiration of possibly broken teeth. Whatever the cause, stabilising the airway and breathing were the first steps of any major trauma management and this patient was going to be a real challenge.

One that Dom was clearly up for. He was already observing Brian for any further signs of respiratory difficulty as he directed the limited team he had, including the ambulance crew for the moment, to remove clothing, get monitors in place for heart rate and rhythm, blood pressure and oxygen saturation and to stabilise the cervical spine as the hard collar was opened to let him examine the mouth and neck.

‘I need some suction here, please.’ He took the handle attached to the device from the nurse as he turned back to the paramedic. ‘Do we know anything about his medical history?’

The paramedic shook his head. ‘No medic alert bracelet. He lives alone but his neighbour—Dierdre—was going to check his house and bring some stuff in for him. We asked her to check for any medication he might be on.’

Dom nodded, peering into the injured man’s mouth after clearing the blood that had been obstructing his vision but he looked up to catch Emilia’s gaze as Brian’s padded jacket and then a knitted sweater and T-shirt were all cut clear to expose the top half of his body.

‘Flail chest,’ she noted aloud. The paradoxical movement of the ribs that went in the opposite direction than they should as a breath was sucked in or released meant that there were multiple fractures that had separated a section of the rib cage from the rest. It was also a sign that the level of difficulty in stabilising this patient might have just gone up several notches.

‘We’ve got accessory muscle use and tachypnoea as well.’ Dom was frowning as the figures on the monitor appeared. ‘And that oxygen saturation is far too low. We need to intubate. I’m going to need the video laryngoscope,’ he told the intern. ‘And let’s have a cricothyroidotomy kit on standby as well, thanks. Emmy, it would be awesome if you could get IV access while I’m getting the drugs drawn up. And then I’d like you to assist me with the intubation, please.’

Emilia knew that Dom probably had no idea he’d used the familiar version of her name but, if anything, it just cemented the bond they needed to work as closely and rapidly as possible right now with their patient’s condition deteriorating in front of them. Just the first step of stabilising this patient by securing IV access and an airway was a battle that would require their best efforts.

It wasn’t her usual role on this team, of course. Her specialist orthopaedic and trauma skills meant that she should be evaluating that chest and looking for any other life-threatening injuries a fall could have produced, such as a fractured pelvis, but she couldn’t move on to that stage of a primary or secondary survey until the patient was able to breathe. It was a matter of priorities. Even trying to keep the alignment of Brian’s neck completely stable was less important than securing an airway because the risk of brain injury from a lack of oxygen was greater than making a spinal injury worse by extending the neck for intubation.

The next few minutes were chaotic. Staff were still removing the last pieces of clothing, getting ECG leads stuck on and manoeuvring the trolleys that were needed to supply the drugs and medical equipment that were about to be used. Dom was drawing up the drugs that would sedate and paralyse Brian so that they could take over his breathing. Emilia had the IV trolley beside her and she was trying to locate a vein she could access so that those drugs could be administered. It was no easy task but if they needed to place a central line or an intraosseus needle directly into bone marrow, it would take time they might not have.

There was a fair amount of luck that coated whatever skills Emilia used to find a vein so she could hook Brian up to a running line of saline. The glance and nod of approval from Dom when she looked up was all the acknowledgment she needed to know that she’d done well. Now it was time to do everything she could to assist Dom in his task of placing a flexible, plastic tube into Brian’s trachea to ensure that adequate levels of oxygen could be delivered to Brian’s lungs.

As the first drugs were administered, Emilia pre-oxygenated using a bag mask, making sure that everything needed was at hand and that the monitor could be easily seen.

The first attempt to insert the tube did fail.

‘Let’s optimise the position,’ Dom said calmly. ‘I want a thirty-degree tilt on the upper body so that we have the ears in line with the sternal notch. I’ll try a different blade and, Emilia, I’m going to need some anterior tracheal pressure, please.’

Emilia had to locate the cricoid cartilage, stabilise it between her fingers and then apply enough pressure to help Dom slide the tube into the correct position. She had to keep holding that pressure, as well, until the position of the tube had been checked.

She could see the mix of satisfaction and relief on Dom’s face as they confirmed that the airway was in place but his focus didn’t slip for a second because, with the pressure of air entering their patient’s lungs, it became obvious that the rib fractures had caused damage. Either air or blood was in the chest cavity to a degree that would prevent adequate oxygenation and this was as life-threatening as not having a patent airway.

As a surgeon, Emilia took the lead on the next urgent task of inserting a chest tube to clear the obstruction and this time, as a rush of blood confirmed that her incision and blunt dissection had reached the pleural space and that they could deal with the problems the bleeding was causing, there was more than a fleeting gleam of satisfaction when Dom’s gaze caught her own as he helped her secure the tube that would continue the drainage.

The figures on the monitors were already improving enough that they both knew the odds were turning in their favour. They still needed to perform a thorough secondary survey and find whatever other injuries Brian might have sustained and he was very likely to need to go to Theatre soon but it felt like they were winning.

As always, this was the best feeling in the world.

Their eye contact held for a heartbeat longer than it might have, even as recently as a week or two ago. Because Dom knew that she knew more than she had before? Because they had acknowledged their connection? She could hear an echo of his voice in that tiny moment of time their gazes were touching.

‘We’re the same, you and me... We both give everything we’ve got—and more—to our careers. To the people who put their trust and their lives into our hands...’

How hard was it going to be for Dom to walk away from this job? It would have to feel like he was cutting out a piece of his heart—his soul, even—and a piece of Emilia’s heart was breaking for him because she could imagine exactly how hard that would be. She couldn’t do it.

But, however alike they were in how much they loved their jobs and how determined they were to be the best, that was where their similarity ended, wasn’t it? It was when Brian’s neighbour, Dierdre, arrived with a plastic bag of medication she’d found in his bathroom cabinet and his wallet containing all the personal details they would need that Emilia was reminded of how different she and Dom really were.

Unlike their patient—and herself—Dom had a family. And, okay, there were some issues there because Dom was expected to do something that wasn’t what he would have chosen to do with his life and it was a very different kind of family from that of an ordinary person but at the end of the day...it was family and, as she had reminded Dom on Thanksgiving, family was everything. So, there was envy mixed in with that sympathy that Dom was going to have to give up the career that he loved so much in the near future. On top of that, as Emilia prepared to accompany Brian first to a CT scan and then to Theatre, she remembered that weird moment when she’d arrived in the ER earlier, when the sight of Dom’s tousled hair had made her aware of something so inappropriately unprofessional that she was ashamed of herself.

Oh, man...life had been a lot less complicated when the only feelings that Domenico Di Rossi inspired had been those that made her so determined to prove herself and earn his—along with everybody else’s—respect. Even the annoyance that his teasing and the forbidden use of that shortened form of her name had created would be preferable to this...this knot of emotion that seemed to have taken up residence deep in her gut, full of things she could almost, but not quite identify clearly. And Emilia had no intention of trying to analyse them any further. What was the point, when they would be irrelevant before very long anyway? And when admitting something could potentially make it real...?

It was a relief to be able to follow Brian’s trolley through the doors and head for the elevators. She would be in the CT scanning room within minutes and, with the information the scan could provide, would be planning what was going to happen a short time later in Theatre—a place where she could make sure she was in control. A place where unsettling personal emotions could be totally, albeit perhaps only temporarily, banished.

Exactly the place Emilia needed to be as soon as possible. She knew that Dom was watching her leave Resus but she deliberately kept her gaze on the monitor attached to the end of the trolley so that she didn’t look back. She didn’t want to notice that tousled hair again, or to have that link from those dark, dark eyes to her own, even for a heartbeat. She didn’t want to feel any of those emotions that were powerful enough to feel physical.

Weird how hard it was not to turn her head, though...

What a day...

It was well after the time his shift should have ended when Dom managed to get in a visit to his father in ICU and it was only then that he realised he’d missed lunch. After the extra physical activity of that run with Emilia early this morning, it was no wonder that he was experiencing symptoms of hypoglycaemia with a headache and vague dizziness but Dom knew that a coffee with a couple of sugars would keep him going until he could get home.

He paused for a moment on his way to the ICU staffroom, however, because something had been niggling at the back of his mind ever since that dramatic case in the ER this morning. Why wasn’t Lucas back from his unexpected leave of absence yet? And what could be serious enough have kept him away for this long already?

He’d had a response to that voicemail he’d left the day Lucas had disappeared, more than a week ago now, but all Lucas had said was that he had some stuff to sort out and that he’d be in touch soon.

Not knowing where on earth his friend was, and what time zone he might be in, Dom sent a text message this time instead of trying to phone. He also tried to make it clear he didn’t want to pry.

You missed a good case this morning, bro. Flail chest, haemopneumothorax and a challenging airway thrown in just for fun. You would’ve loved it.

Surprisingly, a response pinged back by the time Dom had started walking again.

Sounds like you’re having fun, all right. I’m sure you’re coping without me but I’ll be back soon. In time for the ball at the latest, if you can remember to grab me a ticket.

It was reassuring that he’d been able to make contact so easily but Dom still had no idea where Lucas was or what the problem in his life might be. Should he be worried? Or was the fact that Lucas was even thinking of attending a social function enough to reassure him that it couldn’t be anything too serious?

He was still distracted as he reached the ICU staffroom and suddenly he had to pause again, startled enough to completely let go of his train of thought concerning Lucas. Emilia Featherstone was in the staffroom, paperwork spread out in front of her on the table.

‘What on earth are you doing here?’

‘I’ve got a patient in ICU. Our man from this morning who fell off his roof. Two, actually, if we count your...’ Emilia’s eyes widened as she stopped herself. ‘Your...um...patient Mr Baresi.’

A glance over his shoulder showed Dom that there was nobody around who might overhear their conversation, but it was an automatic instinct to be extra careful at work.

‘His leg seems to be healing well.’

‘It is. And Max Granger seems happy enough with how stable he is neurologically.’

‘Mmm... I’ll be a lot happier when he wakes up.’ Dom closed his eyes in a long blink. ‘It’s been a long day. I just came in for a coffee. And maybe a cookie. I forgot lunch.’

‘What? You must be dead on your feet. Look, there’s a whole box of cookies here. I think someone’s practising for the competition.’

‘Gingerbread men?’ Dom picked up one of the cookies.

‘No...turn it up the other way. It’s a reindeer.’

Dom peered at the shape. A gingerbread man cutter had clearly been used but it had been decorated so that the legs were antlers, the arms were ears and there was a red candy button for a nose where the head would have been.

‘Clever,’ he murmured, biting off one of the antlers. ‘How’s our man from this morning?’

‘Good.’ Emilia was gathering her paperwork. ‘I’m just sorting copies of the data I need to enter him in an ongoing study for surgical stabilisation of rib fractures.’

Dom took another bite. ‘I’m going to blame my lack of brain function on low blood sugar. I was just reading about it the other day. About bioabsorbable plates for a fixation device?’

‘I used a pre-contoured locking plate,’ Emilia told him but there was a gleam in her eye. ‘We can compare the merits some other time, when you’ve had enough to eat.’

‘These cookies are good.’

That gleam in Emilia’s eyes got brighter. ‘Your baking skills are pretty unique. Why don’t you enter the competition?’

Dom ate the reindeer’s nose. ‘Why don’t you? There could be someone on the judging panel that appreciates plastic-flavoured Christmas cookies.’

She was having difficulty stifling a grin. ‘That’s a cruel blow, Dom. You could be doing irreparable damage to my self-esteem, you know?’

Maybe it was the lighting in this staffroom and the way it was picking out the flame-coloured highlights in Emilia’s hair and making her eyes sparkle. Or maybe it was because something fundamental had changed in their relationship ever since he had told her the truth and she’d got past her initial shock and anger. On the other hand, it could be that his mental abilities were foggy thanks to a lack of food and those automatic defence mechanisms had been accidentally switched off. Whatever the cause, the net result hit Dom in the gut like a sledgehammer. Emilia had to be the most attractive woman he’d ever met. How on earth had he not noticed that before?

The kick in his gut was rapidly morphing into something Dom had certainly noticed before.

Attraction.

No...worse than that. This was more like desire...

The last thing he needed in his life right now was another complication. He should walk away. Fast. Except that Emilia was saying something. About food...? He tuned back in and tried to rewind what he’d missed.

‘I haven’t tried it yet but it sounds good.’ A tiny, puzzled frown appeared on Emilia’s brow as she clocked how distracted he was. ‘The new Asian fusion restaurant down at the Pike Place Fish Market?’ Those astonishing blue eyes were darkening with what looked like concern now. ‘Boy, you really do need some food, don’t you? Come on...it’s time we were out of here. My treat.’

‘What? No... I’m not letting you pay for dinner.’ Had he somehow just agreed to have dinner with Emilia—only seconds after realising that it would be wise to get away from her until his head was functioning a little more normally?

‘Consider it compensation.’ Emilia was on her feet smiling at him. ‘To make up for plastic-flavoured turkey?’

The gingerbread cookie didn’t seem to have raised his blood sugar levels enough to dispel the fuzziness in his head. Or perhaps Emilia’s smile always had this kind of effect on men and it was just that his own immunity was compromised. In either case, the net result was that he was powerless to resist.

‘Dinner sounds great,’ he heard himself saying. ‘Let’s go.’

He’d looked so tired. And then he’d said that he hadn’t eaten all day. Was it any wonder that Emilia had let her concern for Dom override her common sense? That she’d not only smothered any warning bells about letting that emotional knot get pulled any tighter, she’d made it a whole lot more intense by engineering time alone with him in a restaurant that allowed every table a view into a bustling kitchen but somehow divided the spaces to make every group feel like they were having a private party.

They both seemed to be making an effort to keep things at least a little professional, though, with their conversation focussed on the case they’d shared today as they waited for their order to arrive.

‘So, tell me about this study that Brian qualifies for. You said it’s ongoing? What trends are being identified?’

‘Initially, the study was looking at surgical stabilisation compared to the conservative, non-surgical treatment that was standard a couple of decades ago.’

‘Like oral analgesia, mechanical ventilation and intercostal nerve blocks?’

Emilia nodded. ‘But now, it’s more about how early the surgery should take place. The benefits are significant—lower mortality, shorter stay in ICU and less time under mechanical ventilation. Lower rates of pneumonia...’

She was counting off her points on her fingers but Dom wasn’t watching her hands. His gaze was fixed on hers and the look in his eyes gave her an odd tingle. Were the results of the study she was talking about really that fascinating?

It was a relief when their food arrived but, a short time later, Emilia realised she might have been more wary of trying this new restaurant if she’d also known that they specialised in platters of food for sharing and that cutlery was optional. There was something rather intimate in reaching for a delicious taste of twice-fried crispy potato skin or tiny, melt-in-the-mouth pulled beef slider when your hand could brush that of the person you were sharing the meal with. They had finger bowls that came with a tray of barbecued ribs to clean sticky fingers so they both managed to eat all they desired without picking up a fork.

More than all they desired, in fact.

‘I’m stuffed,’ Emilia finally announced.

‘Me, too. But I’m still going to eat that last rib. Unless you’d like it?’

She shook her head. ‘I would explode. It wouldn’t be pretty.’

Dom grinned and then closed his eyes as he tore into the succulent meat. ‘I think this might be the best dinner I’ve ever had,’ he said as he discarded the bone.

‘It helps to have not eaten all day. They say that hunger is the best condiment for anything.’ Emilia couldn’t take her eyes off Dom’s face. The sweep of those dark, dark lashes on his cheeks beneath that still rumpled hair and the way his lips curled up at the corners even though they looked completely relaxed...

He’d look like this when he was asleep, wouldn’t he? In bed...

Emilia was sure she almost visibly jumped as Dom’s eyes opened again.

‘What? Have I got something on my face?’

‘Ah...actually, yes...’ Emilia found what she hoped was a casual smile. ‘Barbecue sauce, probably.’

‘Oh...’ Dom picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth. ‘Is it gone?’

‘Mmm...’

‘You’ve got some as well.’ But Dom was reaching across the table as he spoke so Emilia didn’t have a chance to pick up her own napkin. He wiped the bottom of her cheek, right at the corner of her mouth, with the back of his thumb. ‘There you go. All gone.’

Emilia couldn’t say anything. That touch, so close to her lips, had stolen her breath completely. Maybe she was looking a little strange, as well, because Dom was staring at her and she’d never seen quite that expression on his face before.

‘What?’ she finally managed. ‘There’s more sauce?’

He shook his head. Looked away but then back to catch her gaze. The tone of his voice was curiously hesitant.

‘I was just wondering,’ he murmured.

‘Wondering what?’

‘Why you’re still single. You’re beautiful, Emmy...’

Emilia swallowed hard. Again, she was lost for words. She couldn’t look away from those dark eyes, either. It felt like she could fall into them.

And drown...

‘Not only that, you’re damn good at what you do. And you’re independent and ambitious and successful and— What?’ Dom broke off. ‘Why are you shaking your head like that?’

‘You’re answering your own question,’ Emilia said. ‘About why I’m single? It’s not necessarily a good thing for a woman to be ambitious and successful.’

Dom’s breath came out in a disbelieving huff.

‘It’s true,’ she insisted. ‘It’s precisely why my last relationship didn’t work out. He—Chandler—got more and more resentful of my achievements. When I got promoted over him, that was the end...’ She couldn’t bring herself to tell him what else Chandler had said—that no man would ever want to be with someone like her. Someone who had to prove herself to be better all the time by putting someone else down. A...ballbreaker.

But it seemed like she didn’t need to tell him the worst of it. His gaze had already darkened noticeably.

‘He was an idiot,’ he growled. ‘And a bastardo.’

The word didn’t need translating. And the vehemence with which he was taking her side made the corners of Emilia’s mouth curl up.

‘I don’t even understand,’ he continued. ‘We fought like...do you say tooth and nail? Or cats and dogs perhaps, to be the best at medical school, didn’t we?’ He didn’t wait for her response. ‘I hated it when you beat me but...you know what?’

‘What?’

‘I was proud of you, too, in the end. I hated losing but, at the same time, I was so happy that you were winning because you deserved to win.’ His mouth twitched. ‘Not that I would have ever told you that, of course.’

Oh... He’d been proud of her, back then, when she’d won a race to first place? He’d hidden it well, that was for sure, but knowing that he’d felt like that was melting something inside Emilia. It also made complete sense because she’d had the same sort of reaction when he’d won, hadn’t she? She’d decided it was simply grudging admiration but perhaps she’d never recognised it for what it had actually been.

‘You can’t ever be with someone like that again,’ Dom said softly. ‘It’s hard enough to fight for what you need to achieve without someone pulling you down.’

Emilia nodded slowly. ‘That’s so true. I already knew that I had to rely on myself and believe in my ambition. I’ll never let anybody else pull me down. I’m happier on my own, anyway.’

‘Even then, it can be hard.’ Dom’s breath came out in a sigh. ‘I’ve had to fight, too. I feel like I’m still fighting but maybe now it’s against myself instead of my father. A battle between what I want to do and what I have to do.’

Emilia swallowed hard. She should break this eye contact but she couldn’t. What she wanted more than anything, in this moment, was to help Dom. To give him a gift as meaningful as the one he’d just given her, in telling her that she was special enough for him to have been proud of her. And, if he was going to believe her, he needed to see how genuine she was, so she held his gaze.

‘There must be a way you can be true to yourself and still do your duty,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re too good a doctor to walk away from your career. You still have lives to save and...and maybe continuing your work is something that you need to save what’s so important in your own life.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I read about Isola Verde. About the wonderful new hospital that’s been built there.’

Dom nodded. ‘That’s Giada’s doing,’ he told her. ‘Despite how young she is, she has a passion for our country and she wanted the best health care to be available for our people.’

‘Couldn’t you work there? Even if it was only part-time? Find a compromise between what you have to do and what you want to do?’

This time Dom shook his head. ‘I don’t do compromise,’ he said. ‘It has to be all or nothing for me. If I choose to do something, I will give it my whole heart and soul. My everything. There can be no half measures. When I commit, that’s for ever.’

Wow... Emilia let her breath out very slowly. The sincerity in those words. The passion that they advertised. She could imagine him being this genuine when he committed to a woman he loved. Whoever she turned out to be, Emilia hoped she would know that she was the luckiest woman on earth...

It was Dom who broke the eye contact. And, as if he realised that the atmosphere was getting too heavy, he cleared his throat.

‘Speaking of Giada, she tells me that she’s going to be back in time to come to the fundraising gala. So is Lucas, apparently. I must remember to get some more tickets for them tomorrow. Are you coming, Emmy?’

‘No. I usually work during events like that, so other people get to go. Like I always work on Christmas Day. Not that they needed any extras on the night of gala this time, though.’

‘You don’t like dressing up?’ Dom’s glance grazed hers again. ‘Now that I come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing a dress.’

Emilia shrugged. ‘I don’t wear them often. And I don’t own a cocktail dress, let alone a ballgown.’

‘So buy one. Or rent one?’

‘Why would I do that?’

Dom had her pinned with his gaze again. ‘So that you can come to the gala with me, of course.’

Emilia’s jaw sagged. ‘Are you asking me out on a date?’

That flicker in his gaze...it almost looked like...desire? Oh, dear Lord...that knot in her gut hadn’t just tightened. It felt like it might be disintegrating in a small explosion that was sending waves of sensation to parts of her body that had been peacefully shut away for a long time now.

But Dom was smiling now. ‘I’m asking you as a friend,’ he told her. ‘My best friend. Maybe the only one who’ll ever know me for just who I really am. In here...’ He touched his chest in that gesture that was becoming so familiar but Emilia could see the muscles in his throat move at the same time, as he swallowed carefully.

They did have something totally unique between them.

Something that couldn’t last.

But, right now...it felt like someone was waving a magic wand. Creating a snippet of a fairy tale that cast Emilia Featherstone in a Cinderella role. She was being offered the chance of going to the ball and she already knew that she would be dancing with a prince...

It was such a fantasy that it made her smile. If she was someone who cried, she might well have been fighting back tears right now but, instead, she just smiled more—although the edges of that smile felt a bit wobbly.

‘I’d love to come,’ she said.