Before I could hang up, I heard Dominic's voice behind me. He'd followed me out. The Don, leaving his own party to stand in a hallway.
"You're booking a ticket?" he asked, his voice sounding confused.
I quickly ended the call, turning around with a blank expression. "Yeah, there's a restaurant nearby that's impossible to get into," I lied smoothly. "You have to reserve days in advance if you want to try the menu."
Dominic didn't press the matter any further. Something in his posture shifted, though. Not suspicion exactly. Something closer to the instinct of a man who controls territory for a living sensing that ground was moving beneath him.
He just pulled me along to a nearby hotel, one of the Sloane-affiliated properties where the staff knew his face and his preferences and the particular discretion required when he arrived with a woman. He booked us a suite without asking if I wanted one.