Eight

“Okay,” Monique says as we drive home that night, “can I now officially say Dominique Voss definitely wants to fuck you?”

She’s behind the wheel—because I’m too annoyed, too exhausted, and too mentally fried to drive. I’ve been groaning, sighing, and cursing under my breath since we left the hospital. He’s in my head. Dominique fucking Voss has planted himself like a weed and I want him out.

“Please don’t say the F-word,” I mutter, slumping against the passenger-side window. “It’s gross.”

Monique snorts. “You say the F-word more than I do, Mother Mary.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the tiny smile that pulls at my lips.

“He’s disgusting,” I say quietly, watching the nightlife blur past my window.

“How so?”

“How could he want sex from me… in exchange for the car I hit?” I grimace. It sounds even more messed up out loud.

“So you are admitting you hit his car?” Monique grins.

I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “You’re annoying.”

“I try,” she says, smirking. “But seriously—what makes you think he wants sex from you in return? He doesn’t come off that loose. If anything, he seems like a man with… I don’t know, standards. I doubt that’s what this is about.”

“So what kind of man do you think he is?”

Monique sighs, eyes on the road. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I’ve never heard of a billionaire trying to blackmail someone into sex over a hit-and-run. And a guy like Dominique Voss? If that ever got out, it would be a PR nightmare.”

“I don’t care who he is,” I snap. “He can go to hell.”

“I think he just wants you to feel indebted.”

“For a scratch?” I scoff. “Come on.”

“Maybe it’s something else. I don’t know the guy, but it doesn’t feel like it’s about sex. I mean—he’s Dominique freaking Voss. He could have sex with anyone. Women would line up for a chance to get under, on top of, or anywhere near that man. He doesn’t have to pull stunts.”

“I know that,” I mutter. “I literally told him he wanted sex from me and called him disgusting.”

Monique chokes out a laugh. “What?”

“I know, it was stupid, okay? But what do you expect? Ever since that stupid party, he’s made it his mission to taunt me. Why me? Why can’t he just leave me alone? And the worst part? He doesn’t want money.”

“He has money, Robyn. Your money would mean nothing to him.”

“Exactly. That’s what pisses me off.”

Monique shrugs. “Maybe he likes you.”

I turn to stare at her.

She doesn’t meet my gaze.

“I’m serious. Maybe he finds you attractive. And this is just… his version of a twisted game. Some messed-up courtship ritual. You’re hot, babe. That shouldn’t surprise you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yeah, right.” She laughs. “You so care. The way you two were eye-fucking outside St. José? Please.”

“Can we drop it?”

“Alright. Whatever you say, hon.”

I sigh, chewing on the edge of my red-painted thumbnail. My thoughts are a mess. I hate that he’s stuck in my head. I hate it more that part of me keeps replaying every word he said.

“Fuck,” I groan under my breath.

“What?” Monique asks, not taking her eyes off the road.

“Is he like… my boss now?”

“What? No. He owns PharmaCare, not St. José.”

“He still owns shares. That counts for something. Right?”

“You’ve already said it—he owns shares, not the hospital,” Monique says, keeping her eyes on the road. “That means Dominique Voss isn’t your boss. He’s just an investor. He funds St. José, and in return, he gets a percentage back.”

“How much do you think he owns? Forty percent?”

“That’s a lot.”

“Well, he has the money.”

“Yeah,” Monique exhales. “Whatever the percent is, it doesn’t change anything for you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Sure.”

A pause. Then—of course—

“Wait. You were the one who offered to pay for the repairs, right?”

I groan. Of course she’s not letting it go. What was I thinking, asking her to drop it?

“Yeah.”

“Why? He didn’t even ask. You brought this on yourself.”

“I was trying to be nice, okay? I wanted him out of my life.”

Monique snorts. “Nice? Robyn, you hit his car—twice—and ran. That’s the opposite of nice. You should’ve just apologized and let him speak instead of tossing out cash like a bribe.”

Another groan slips out of me. “Seriously, Monique, how do I end this? How do I never see that man again?”

“Why so dramatic? Isn’t he a pleasant sight? The man is hotter in real life. I’d do anything to stare at him all day. He’s like a walking sex symbol. That face, that build, that swag—goddamn.”

“Ew,” I scrunch my nose. “Gross.”

She shrugs. “He’s hot.”

“Everyone knows that. And he knows that.”

“Then why are you acting like he’s repulsive? Come on, Robyn. It’s obvious this is all just a coincidence. The party, the hospital—it’s random. Maybe, just maybe, the universe is pushing you to finally get laid.”

“And the universe just so happened to pick Dominique Voss?”

“It’s a possibility.”

I throw my head back against the seat with a groan. “Oh, God. You’re not helping.”

“I’m just saying. He’s objectively gorgeous. Why does that make you so mad?”

“Because he’s arrogant. Because he’s calm and smug and knows exactly what he’s doing. And he keeps throwing it in my face like I owe him something. And the worst part?” I turn to Monique. “I don’t know anything about him. I looked him up online—nothing useful came back.”

“You Googled him?” she asks, grinning.

“Yes. What?”

“Oh my god. You never G****e anyone.”

“I had to know who he was.”

Monique turns slowly, raising one perfect brow and smirking at me.

I groan. “I hate that look.”

She laughs. “All those reasons you listed? On why he pisses you off? Sounds a lot like sexual frustration to me.”

“You’re insane. I barely know the man.”

“Doesn’t matter. You don’t need a résumé to want someone.”

“If you know me at all, you’d know men like Dominique are a massive turn-off.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

And I do mean it. I’ve seen men like Dominique before—especially back in Italy. The wealth. The power. The sharp suits and sharper tongues. Men like him don’t do good. They own people. Control them. Break them.

They remind me of home.

And home is a place I’ve spent years trying to forget.

But still…

Deep down, I know that’s not the only reason he gets under my skin.

It’s because he lights something inside me—without even touching me.

And I hate that.

I close my eyes, jaw tight.

Fuck.

Everything about Dominique Voss is a sin.

I may not know the man well, but I know enough—enough to understand that I should stay far, far away. No matter how alluring he seems. No matter how dangerously seductive his smirks are. No matter how easily he manipulates me into questioning myself with just one look.

This is normal, I try to tell myself. I’m sexually repressed. I haven’t had sex in almost two years. So maybe it’s okay that standing too close to Dominique Voss makes my entire body tense with heat and confusion.

It’s normal.

After I broke things off with Sebastian, I didn’t bother dating. I buried myself in work and used it as the perfect excuse to avoid men altogether. Sure, there were a few one-night stands. Quick and clean. Nothing more.

And like I’ve said before—there are other ways to get off without a man sticking his dick inside you. That system worked just fine.

Until Dominique fucking Voss showed up and ruined it.

“Okay, so I ran into Sebastian yesterday,” Monique says casually. “Forgot to tell you. But wow—he’s gotten hotter.”

“Sebastian?” I blink.

“Yeah. Your ex. The one you dumped because, quote, you weren’t feeling the new-relationship excitement.”

“Wow. You’re a bitch,” I say, laughing.

Monique grins. “Guilty. But yes, I saw him. He looked different. Hotter. I didn’t even recognize him until he called my name.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. He asked about you, by the way.”

“He did?”

“Mmhmm. Wanted me to give him your number.”

“And when exactly were you planning to tell me all this?”

“I was gonna! I just got distracted. Please don’t get mad—I swear I meant to tell you.”

“Right.”

“I think he wants to try again. Maybe this time it’d be different.”

“Did he say that?”

“No. But I saw the look in his eyes. Sebastian still likes you.”

I stare out the window, jaw tight. The last thing I need right now is drama from a past situationship. Sebastian and I ended things on good terms, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to suddenly throw myself back into his arms just because he’s got a glow-up.

There was no spark. No chemistry. No pull. I was never sexually attracted to Sebastian—I just cared about him. Like a friend. The only good thing between us? He was great in bed. He gave me a few solid orgasms, and I thanked him silently for that.

“If this is your roundabout way of bringing up my love life again,” I say, “you’ve failed. Miserably.”

“I’m not—” Monique sighs. “Okay, maybe a little. We all know you’re not trying to give anyone a shot, and that’s fine. I just… I really thought Sebastian could’ve been it.”

“Well, he wasn’t.”

“You did like the sex, though.”

I snort into my palm, laughing. “He had skills. But who cares? I don’t want to talk about Sebastian. Or any man. I just want to go home, take my bra off, crawl into bed, and look forward to work on Monday.”

And maybe—just maybe—find a way to exorcise the ghost of Dominique Voss and the way he makes my skin burn without even touching me.

I groan, leaning back into the seat.

“Cheers to that,” Monique says.