CHAPTER THREE: Playing With Fire

I'm wearing the perfume Dominic gave me five years ago. That's the first step in seduction, make him feel like he matters to you or you think of him after being cold. 

My reaction at the office was the coldness, and his perfume completes it

The bottle sits on my bathroom counter—Chanel No. 5, classic and expensive, the kind of gift that says I know you instead of I googled 'presents for women.' I've kept it hidden in the back of my medicine cabinet for five years, told myself a thousand times I'd throw it away, and never see it again. 

Now I'm spraying it on my wrists, my neck, the hollow of my throat where Dominic used to press his lips and tell me I smelled like heaven. And I used it on my clothes and my bag too. So he'd notice it and feel what I want him to feel. 

"You look pretty, Mommy." Ethan is sitting on my bed, swinging his legs and watching me get ready with the kind of intense focus he usually reserves for building block towers.

I catch his reflection in the mirror…dark hair that makes every inch of him screams Blackwood, and I've spent five years praying no one else would notice.

"Thank you, baby." I smooth down my black dress, the one I bought three years ago for job interviews and have worn exactly twice because it makes me feel like I'm playing dress-up in someone else's life. 

Although I've completely changed the look on it to look sexy, with a slit on my thighs enough to make any man drool about what's underneath.

That's one of the rules of the rules I know, it doesn't matter how much of his feelings you control, you control it 10 times more when he can't get your skin out of his head. 

And the only way to do that is always leaving something to think about

"It's just a work dinner."

"You said that last time." He tilts his head. "But you came home sad."

My hands freeze on my earrings. "I wasn't sad."

"Yes, you were. You went to my room and stood in 

the doorway for a long time and you do that when you're sad."

Five years old, and he can already read me better than anyone. I don't know if that's beautiful or terrifying.

"I'm fine, sweetie. I promise."

The doorbell rings. Wonderful Sarah, who's known me since I was seven months pregnant and sleeping in her church's shelter, lets herself in with the key I gave her years ago.

"You look gorgeous," she says, but her eyes are worried. "Are you sure about this?"

"No but I'm going anyway."

She walks me to the door, lowers her voice. "Abby, T

this man destroyed you once and it you ever give him the chance"

"I'm not giving him anything. I'm taking this time." I grab my purse, check my lipstick one last time in the hallway mirror, bright red for fierceness.

. "Besides, I'm not going for him. I'm going for me so I can get closure"

"Closure is what you tell yourself before you do something stupid."

"Then I guess I'm about to do something very stupid." I say

Sarah catches my arm as I reach for the door handle. "Just remember you survived without him for 5 years and you built a life, don't let one dinner make you forget that."

But as the cab drops me at Eleven Madison Park at 8:05 deliberately late because Dominic doesn't get to summon me like a servant anymore. I'm breaking his rules but still using my body to beg his attention, classic Cleopatra 

I'm thinking about the last time I was here and I think the chef recognizes me or thinks he does. His eyes linger a moment too long on my face before it moves to my body and smooths his expression into professional neutrality.

"Name?"

"Monroe. I'm meeting Mr. Blackwood."

Something shifts in his expression, maybe pity or curiosity but I don't care anyway.

"Of course. Right this way."

The restaurant looks exactly the same.  Every table holds someone important—politicians, celebrities, CEOs who run companies that employ thousands.

And there, at the corner table with the best view of 

Madison Square Park is Dominic.

He stands when he sees her as proper etiquette, he's wearing a charcoal suit with no tie, the top button of his white shirt undone. Cute but I'm the one doing the seducing this time not him so it must work on my terms. 

"You came," he says as I reach the table.

"You commanded. Isn't that what you do?" I say, making him feel powerful 

A muscle ticks in his jaw, but he pulls out my chair. I sit aware of his hand near my shoulder, not touching but close enough that I can feel the heat.

Same table as five years old, same menu, probably.

The wine arrives, expensive, red, the same vintage from our first date. Of course he remembers Dominic Blackwood forgets nothing.

"Why am I here?" I ask once the waiter disappears.

"Because we need to talk."

"We spoke earlier"

"No. I talked and you ran."

"I left Dominic, there's a difference."

He pours wine into my glass, then his and it feels significant. "I need to understand where you went, how you survived and why you came back."

"That's three questions." I tell him

"Answer them."

The old Abigail would have melted at the command in his voice and would definitely have loved the way he takes charge, makes decisions and controls the space around him.

The new Abigail takes a sip of wine and says, "No."

I continue 

"You want to understand? Fine. Understand this: I went somewhere you'd never think to look and I survived because dying wasn't an option. And I came back because this is my city too, and I'm done letting you take things from me."

"I never wanted to take anything—"

"You took everything." My voice is quiet, but he shifts in his seat anyway. 

The first course arrives, some delicate arrangement of vegetables that probably costs more than my weekly grocery budget and Ethan's fees but neither of us touches it.

"I'm sorry," he says finally.

"Are you? Or are you just sorry you got caught wanting me again?"

"Both, but does it matter?"

"Yes."

We stare at each other across the table and the restaurant hums around us with laughter, conversation, the gentle clink of silverware in China. Normal people having normal dinners, completely unaware that I'm sitting here trying not to fly apart.

"Are you seeing anyone?" The question comes out of nowhere, catches me off guard.

"Why would that matter?"

"Answer it."

"Why? You're married and you have a wife at home and even a daughter."

"My marriage is—" He stops himself

"None of my business. You made sure of that."

Silence. Heavy and suffocating.

"There's no one," I finally admit, and immediately hate myself for it. "I don't... I can't trust anyone enough."

"Because of what I did." He says 

"Because I learned that people who say they love you will choose power over you every single time."

i reply 

"The marriage to Victoria was never real," 

he says quietly. "It's a political and business arrangement. We're not intimate. 

Wh

"That doesn't change anything."

"Doesn't it?”

"It's not that simple."

The second course arrives then the third and although we barely eat, we just talk in circles

He tells me about Isabella, four years old, obsessed with dinosaurs, has his eyes and Victoria's stubborn streak. The way he talks about his daughter, I can hear the love there. Real and uncomplicated.

For an hour, maybe more, we talk like we used to. Before the empire and the betrayal and the five years of devastation.

Just Dominic and Abigail, two people who once loved each other.

"Thank you for dinner."

I make it three steps before his voice stops me.

"Let me drive you home."

"I can get a cab."

"Please."

I agree and we walk outside where his driver is waiting beside black Mercedes, the kind of car that screams money. Dominic opens the door for me, and 

The leather seats are cool against my bare legs. Dominic slides in beside me, and suddenly the spacious back seat feels impossibly small.

We sit in loaded silence as the car pulls into traffic. His hand rests on the seat between us, inches from mine. 

"I bought your building," he says suddenly.

I turn. "Okayyy"

"You're not surprised."

"You're predictable, you want to control everything around me and everything I touch."

"That's not why I bought it."

"Then why?" I ask him 

He looks at me, and the raw honesty in his eyes 

makes my breath catch. "To keep you safe. To make sure you never end up homeless again. Never have to sleep in shelters or subway stations." His voice breaks.

The car pulls up to my building. I should get out. Should run upstairs and lock the door and never see Dominic Blackwood again.

Instead, I sit frozen as he reaches across the space between us and catches my wrist.

"Wait."

His hand on my skin burns. Five years of anger, pain, buried feelings—all of it surfaces in that single touch.

"What?"

"I know you hate me. I know I deserve it. But I need you to know—everything I did, every choice I made, it was to protect the empire. My family legacy. I thought..." He struggles with the words. "I thought power would be enough.

I should laugh in his face, should tell him it's too late, that words mean nothing, that he destroyed any chance we had five years ago.

Instead, I hear myself whisper: "If that's true, you should have fought for me. Goodnight Dominic, make peace with your wife"

My phone buzzed and I see it's Adrian calling 

“ I saw you at dinner with my brother today and I'm thinking you're falling for him again. I can't let that happen Abigail, I know we've only known each other for some months but I like you and I would love to ask you out to dinner..” 

I cut the call so I wouldn't need to hear the end of his memorised speech