Domino (The Domino Trilogy) Read Online Free Page A

my legs. My forehead had broken out into a sweat and I had butterflies in my stomach. I didn’t feel sick so much as I felt, well, turned on?
    Was this really how it felt to be turned on ? I didn’t know. I had no experience with that feeling, except maybe for the giddy screaming I’d once done at boy-band concerts in junior high.
    I held my head in my hands for a moment and took several long, deep breaths , trying hard to steady myself. Remember, you’re on the job here, I thought. You have to act professional . But this man was making it damned difficult. Something about him----and his art---was arresting. “I’m fine, really,” I lied. “I just forgot to eat dinner, that’s all.” That part was true. I’d skipped lunch too---I’d only had a granola bar since breakfast.
    “Well, no wonder you passed out, Miss Delaney. Our bodies require nourishment to function.”
    I squinte d at his patronizing tone. “I understand basic biology.” At least where eating was concerned. I was still a little sketchy on certain aspects of reproduction.
    “I meant no offense, Miss Delaney. I’ll make sure the hors d’oeuvres tray gets to you first. We’re having fresh raw oysters and Beluga caviar, among other things. Sent by my personal contacts on the Black Sea. Wonderful stuff.”
    “No thank you. I hate caviar and raw oysters make me vomit. ” My reporter’s mind sensed an opening, though. “So, did you grow up on the Black Sea then?”
    “I vacationed there sometimes,” he replied, and came to sit beside me on the bench. His close proximity made me feel warmer, more dizzy, more nervous. But I clamped down and tried to focus on getting my story.
    “You and your parents?”
    “Yes. I still have some extended family that live in that vicinity. The Ukrainian wing of my family was quite high up in the Soviet Communist Party at one point in time, so we had access to some prime vacation spots in that area. At least, we did while my father was still living.”
    “The Ukrainian wing of your family? Are there other wings, then?”
    “My parents were both Jewish, but from different sects,” he explained. “My father’s side was very secular---you had to be if you were in the Party---but my mother’s side was from the Russian steppes, and very traditional. It made things interesting, especially after my father died.” He paused and seemed to check himself. “But enough about me. What brings you to my opening?”
    “Well, as I’m sure you already know, I came to review your art. And if I may be so bold, you haven’t exactly made a good impression on me.”
    I detected the hint of a smile on his lips. “Are you speaking of me personally, or of my art?”
    “I consider the two things inseparable. Entertwined, even.”
    His eyes sparkled. “My, my, such big words.”
    “I am a writer, after all. And don’t tell me you’re one of those types who think all women are dumb.”
    “Oh I’m not, I assure you. You just seem awfully young to be out reviewing gallery openings for magazines, is all. Art News Now , is it?”
    “Yes.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “You must be quite the hotshot young reporter to have a job at such a reputable publication at such a young age.” Unlike before, his tone wasn’t the least bit patronizing---quite the opposite---but it still ruffled my feathers a bit.
    “I’m a freelancer,” I snapped. “And there’s no need to pretend that it’s a prestigious publication, because it’s not. But I have to get my foot in the door somewhere.”
    His expression softened, and he cocked his head at me slightly, as if in surprise. “You mustn’t sell yourself short, Nancy. I confess I have an active subscription to Art News Now . I read it religiously.”
    “You and about five other people on the whole planet.” The snide remark fell out of my mouth before I even had time to think. As soon as it was out I clapped my hand over my mouth, mortified. “Oh my, I really shouldn’t have said