Seducing my mom's billionaire lover

(Dominic’s POV)

Women were like champagne; best when expensive, bubbly, and easy to forget in the morning.

A fresh bottle every night kept the taste sharp, the bubbles alive.

I’d had enough to drown a weaker man. Brunettes with pouting lips, blondes with manicured nails that dug into my skin like they wanted to own me, redheads who swore they’d be the one to tame me. They all blurred together in the end. Names forgotten, perfume fading, lingerie left like trophies in my penthouse drawers.

My only rule was simple: never taste the same bottle twice.

The moment a woman started looking at me with expectation instead of hunger, she was done. The magic was in the chase, the momentary surrender, the way they gasped like no one had ever touched them the way I did. After that, it was tedious. Predictable.

I didn’t fall in love. I didn’t commit. I devoured.

And why wouldn’t I?

When you’re young, rich, and ruthless enough to own everything you touch, women are just another luxury—like cars, watches, or thousand-dollar bottles of vintage Dom Pérignon. Except women smiled prettier when you unwrapped them.

The gala was now in full swing.

Crystal chandeliers glittered above a sea of gowns and tuxedos, the kind of opulence that had people drinking too much champagne just to feel like they belonged. I’d hosted half these people before, done business with the other half, and slept with more of them than I cared to admit.

Tonight was no different.

My eyes skimmed over the crowd lazily, landing on a pretty brunette in a backless dress who’d been trying to catch my attention all night.

If memory served me right, she was one of our recent rising stars, Hollywood’s newest little darling. The press called her a sweetheart, a “good girl with a golden smile.”

Golden girl my ass.

I’d seen her on her knees at an after party last summer, lipstick smeared around some producer’s cock. If she was a golden girl them I must be some kind of Saint.

My gaze traveled down her body like I was scanning a new merchandise. Tits round, perky and full enough to fill my palms, probably fake though. Waist slim, narrow and easily breakable, the kind of figure women starve themselves for. Ass plump, round and just begging for a handprint.

She’d wrapped herself in a tight, short blue dress that left nothing to the imagination.

The way she kept licking her lips as I assessed her told me exactly how badly she wanted me or rather, how badly she wanted what being with me could do for her career. A secured position. Bigger role. A headline. Women like her never came without an agenda and I didn’t mind that. In this world, everyone was selling something. Sex, talent, an illusion of purity. I just happened to be the man who owned the stage they all wanted to perform on.

And I loved every second of it. Who wouldn't? What could possibly be better than fucking whomever you wanted, whenever you wanted?

I gave her my signature smile that always had women tripping over themselves, and within five minutes, she was in front of me.

Leaning down, I whispered to her ear, “Wait for me upstairs. Second door on the right.”

Her cheeks flushed crimson, and she practically ran for the elevator.

Easy. Predictable. And exactly the way I liked it.

I adjusted the cuffs of my tuxedo and started toward the private suites, but before I could take three steps, something collided into me.

A girl.

She stumbled against my chest, smelling faintly of spilled champagne and something sweeter, vanilla maybe.

I looked down and met a pair of wide, innocent hazel eyes blinking up at me, glossy and unfocused, lips parted like she was lost.

“Help me…” she whispered.

I frowned. She looked too young, too soft, too… innocent to be here. Her dress wasn’t the designer kind I was used to seeing instead it was simple silk, pale against her flushed skin, clinging in all the right places but her legs wobbled like she couldn’t keep herself upright.

I didn't linger though and quickly shoved her off me.

The last thing I needed was someone else’s drunk little darling clinging to me like I was a knight in shining armor.

Then a voice rang out over the music.

“Aria! Aria, where the hell are you?”

The girl stiffened running back into my arms.

Her fingers clutched at my jacket like I was her lifeline.

“It’s my boyfriend,” she whispered, breathy. “He...he put something in my drink. Please, don’t let him find me.”

Her eyes.

Damn it.

Huge, pleading and glassy with unshed tears.

I should have walked away.

This wasn’t my problem.

She was a complete stranger to me, plus I already had a woman waiting upstairs for me, wet and willing. I didn’t have to be the saviour of some supposed damsel in distress.

But something about the way she trembled against me made my jaw clench.

The footsteps came closer.

“Shit,” she gasped, tugging on my hand. “Please, just...hide me. Please.”

Before I knew it, she was dragging me toward a side corridor, her heels clicking frantically against the marble. She shoved open the first door she found, pulling me inside.

I barely had time to register the guest room before I heard footsteps coming fast.

Think quickly.

It was purely reflex as I pushed her down onto the bed, covering her with my body.

Her startled gasp was soft, as my weight pressed into her.

The door creaked open.

The man stood there, eyes wide, taking in the scene before him. Her sprawled on the bed beneath me, my hand braced on either side of her head, our bodies so close it was obvious what he’d interrupted.

“Oh, shit...sorry, sorry,” he stammered, backing out of the room so fast he nearly tripped. The door slammed shut.

Silence.

The girl's chest rose and fell beneath me, fast. I could feel the thud of her heartbeat against my suit, the heat radiating from her skin.

Slowly and hesitantly, she tilted her face up to mine.

Those damn eyes again. I didn't know why but anytime they stared at me I just felt my knees go weak.

Too wide, too trusting.

For once in my life, I just stared back, dumbfounded. I didn’t have a ready line. Didn’t have a practiced smirk or a dirty promise waiting on my tongue.

“Please…” she whispered, voice trembling. “My body…it feels too hot.”