Chapter 70 (Dom's POV)

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        I didn't sleep a wink last night. I was so fucking frustrated with how things went down with Mia. I just didn't know what to do with this pent up shit. She called me her father and that piece of shit, Kristoff, who's ashes in a fucking dumpster somewhere by now. I am not them. I don't even know how she could compare it. I was pissed that she was ignoring me since seeing the damn videos, so yeah, I had my guy let me know when she got home, so I could confront her. I can do dumb shit when I'm really angry, so yeah, I am a little intimidating when I tower someone or cage them. But haven't I always done that to her? She never complained before that I was like them.

She said she was done with me. How the fuck did she think I would respond? It's all bullshit. I had every right to hook up with that girl in the video. I never promised otherwise, but she did promise me she didn't want other men. That was her promise to me. I never returned the promise, because I knew damn well that I'd still been fucking other girls. 

I know it's fucked up, but I'd ordered Mia some of her flowers and gifts while a girl was on her knees in front of me sucking my cock. I don't know what to make of it, and I doubt she would either.

        I need to get my temper in check so I can have a normal conversation with the girl. Hopefully before she ends up leaving New York without me having sorted any of this out. She's been busy and I've been trying to be patient, but I'm not the most patient man. I never have to be, because people are always too afraid to keep a man like me waiting. 

I'm just going to calm down and tell Mia I don't accept her terms of this being over. I'll let her cool off about the girl in the video and then she'll see nothing's changed. We'll still send each other messages, and talk on the phone, and she'll still be a whole ocean away. Honestly, what changed? Nothing.

        I got a text message from Riccardo asking if he could speak with me about something

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        I got a text message from Riccardo asking if he could speak with me about something. I was in the penthouse since it was literally the middle of the night, so I knew this was gonna be some bullshit. I told him to come up, and when he did he was smart enough not to waste my time. "I have an update for you," he told me, handing me his cell phone. I glanced down to find Mia's newest posts of fashion week. I recognize this face. 

On Mia's first full month in Paris she posted some asshole and said he was a pleasure to work with. I'd gone to Paris shortly after discovering that, and I told her if she let someone touch her they'd lose their hands or their life. 

Now I'm looking down at not one, but two fucking photos of this asshole again. One silly faced picture and another where they look awfully fucking happy, laughing in their fancy clothes at some obvious party. I was seeing red.

        "And who is this?" I gritted my teeth at Riccardo. He was anticipating the questions and hopped right to it. "A French photographer, sir." I licked my teeth and zoomed into the picture for a second. "Where is this?" I turned the screen towards him. He squinted his eyes to have a better look. "I have no idea, sir" Riccardo flinched back. "Find out where he is. Now." I ordered, shoving the phone into his chest before taking the stairs to get changed.

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