Chapter Eighteen: The Princess and the Pawn

Rhea walks back into the executive suite, every stiff, mechanical step a sharp reminder of the lace panties now tucked away in Dominic’s pocket. 

Her body pulses with a lingering, hollow ache - a wet, stinging heat that serves as a constant, shameful tether to what just happened in the restroom. 

She feels like a traitor to her own sex, a hollowed-out shell of a woman whose dignity was left on the tile floor.

She has just been used like an animal, her moans smothered by his palm, while the woman who supposedly holds Dominic’s heart stood only two feet away.

She knocks, her fingers trembling as she adjusts her glasses, trying to find a mask of professional neutrality.

"Come in," the voice calls. It is cold, level, and utterly unaffected, as if he hadn't just been breathing fire into her skin minutes ago.

Dominic is sitting opposite Ava on the charcoal couch. 

As Rhea enters, he looks up, his gaze locking onto hers with predatory precision. He slowly traces his thumb over his lower lip, a dark, secret chuckle rumbling in his chest as if he is savoring the lingering taste of her.

Rhea’s skin crawls. The air in the room feels thin, oxygen-deprived.

"I... I have your schedule for the day, sir," she says, her voice thin as she reaches for the iPad resting on the low coffee table.

"Don’t bend."

The command is sharp, a whip-crack that echoes in the quiet office. Rhea snaps her spine upright immediately, her face flushing a deep, humiliated crimson. She knows exactly why he issued the order. 

Without her underwear, the slight tilt of her hips would expose her completely to the room, baring her wetness to the man who caused it and the woman who claims him.

"Just stay until Ava leaves," Dominic adds, his eyes never leaving Rhea’s face. "She’ll be out soon."

"Dominic! I’m not leaving," Ava pouts, crossing her long, elegant legs. She is a vision of effortless wealth. "I came to spend the day with you. It has been two years, Dom. You can't still be cross with me."

Rhea watches them, a bitter, jagged stone forming in her stomach. 

Dominic is greedy. He has this blonde goddess - young, vibrant, and clearly adored - yet he still feels the primal need to degrade an older woman in a locked restroom.

He wants the sunlight of Ava and the filth of Rhea, and he sees no contradiction in it.

"You can't just walk in here and demand my time, Ava," Dominic says. His voice is calm, but Rhea can hear the jagged, dangerous edge of his temper vibrating beneath the surface.

"Why are you like this with me? Didn't you miss me? Aren’t you always sweet to me?" Ava leans in, her voice dripping with a manufactured sweetness that makes Rhea want to gag.

"I have changed," he replies, his eyes flicking toward Rhea for a fraction of a second. "And I would like you to respect that."

Ava’s gaze flicks to Rhea, her blue eyes turning sharp and venomous. "Can you leave? We are having a private conversation."

"If anyone is leaving, Ava, it’s you," Dominic snaps, his patience evaporating.

The tension is suffocating. Rhea cannot stand to be the silent center of their twisted domestic dispute. She turns and walks out silently, her back stiff, feeling Dominic’s heavy, possessive gaze burning through her fabric until the door clicks shut.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Did you see her? The girl in there?” Tessa whispers the second Rhea hits her chair.

Rhea nods numbly, the dampness between her thighs a stinging reminder of her nakedness beneath her skirt.

“That’s Ava,” Tessa continues, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial low. 

“They were the best couple before she traveled. I heard Mr. Ashcroft was a completely different man with her.”

“I thought he’d be single forever,” Julian chimes in, leaning over his desk, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Not with her,” Tessa says, beckoning them closer. Rhea leans in, despite the physical ache in her heart.

“The old staff say he used to pamper her. He was gentle. Caring. He made sacrifices for her. They say he was the perfect, tender lover.”

Rhea feels the air leave her lungs. 

Dominic Ashcroft... gentle?

The man who bruises her body, who forced her to moan while his “princess" knocked on the door... that man is capable of tenderness?

“I even heard rumors he’d already proposed back then,” Tessa adds, oblivious to the way Rhea’s blood is turning to ice. “Proper dates. Cinemas. He used to kiss her forehead in front of everyone. He treated her like she was made of glass. Gave her millions”

Glass. And what am I? 

Rhea thinks bitterly. Stone? Dirt? He treats Ava with respect because she is someone he wants to marry. He treats me like an animal because I am someone he bought.

“They’ll probably get married now that she’s back,” Julian says, his voice trailing off.

Rhea stares at her monitor, her vision blurring. 

She has no right to be jealous - their arrangement is a contract, a cold business deal to save her father’s life. There are no feelings involved. But the pain is a physical weight, a crushing pressure in her chest.

How dare he play the jealous master? How dare he threaten Julian and claim ownership of her body when he already belongs to someone else?

She looks at Julian. He is stable. He is kind. He would never hide her in a restroom or steal her underwear to humiliate her. He wants to show her to the world.

Rhea’s jaw tightens. If Dominic wants a wife and a mistress, he is mistaken. 

She will not be the dirty secret he uses roughly until he goes home to his pretty blonde bride.

She will tell him she wants to quit. If he is building a life with Ava, then she is building one with Julian. 

She is done being the only one with everything to lose.