Chapter Twenty-Six: Same Room

"I think," Jules said slowly, "that timing is everything. And her timing is awfully convenient."

"Jules—"

"I'll keep an eye on her," she said, her voice firm with protective determination. "Just in case."

"You're being paranoid."

Jules looked at me with the kind of expression that had kept me alive through Blake's betrayal and everything that followed.

"Trust me on this one," she said quietly. "You're fire, Scarlett. And women like that? They come carrying water, promising to help—right before they drown you with it."

***

Later that night, I emerged from the en suite wrapped in a silk robe that clung to my still-damp skin. My hair hung in dark waves down my back, and I could still feel the heat from my bath warming my bones. I walked toward the bed expecting nothing but cold sheets and my own restless thoughts.

But Dominic was there.

Leaning against the headboard like he owned not just the bed but the very air around it. Shirtless, all lean muscle and dangerous shadows, his legs crossed beneath the duvet like he was settling in for the long haul. He was reading a book—some thick tome about international finance—like this was the most natural thing in the world.

I stopped dead in my tracks. "What the hell are you doing?"

He didn't look up from his book, but I caught the slight curve of his lips. "Reading."

"You know what I mean." My voice came out sharper than intended, but my pulse was racing and I couldn't quite catch my breath. Having him here, in our bed, half-naked and looking like sin incarnate, was doing things to my resolve that I couldn't afford.

He closed the book with deliberate slowness, setting it down on the nightstand like he had all the time in the world.

"I'm sleeping here tonight."

"Like hell you are."

"Like heaven I am." His eyes met mine, dark and full of challenge.

I folded my arms across my chest, trying to ignore how his gaze dropped to where the silk pulled tight across my breasts. "You have an entire wing of this mansion. Use it."

"I don't want the wing." His voice had gone low, rough around the edges in a way that made heat pool in my belly.

"Too bad."

He didn't move. Didn't argue. Just lifted the edge of the blanket beside him in clear invitation.

"Get in, Scarlett."

"I'm not a dog you can order around."

"No," he said, and there was something almost tender in his voice. "You're my wife."

"It's a contract, Dominic. Not a love song."

He smiled then, slow and dangerous and absolutely devastating.

"I'm not here to fight with you tonight," he said, his voice dropping to that tone that made my knees weak. "I'm here to sleep. With you. Beside you. In the same bed where we used to—"

"Don't." I cut him off before he could finish that thought, before he could remind me of all the nights we'd spent tangled in these very sheets.

He studied my face for a long moment. "Nothing else happens tonight unless you ask for it."

My heart did something stupid and fluttery in my chest. The word 'unless' hung between us like a promise and a threat.

I hesitated, every instinct screaming at me to run, to protect myself, to not let him back into the parts of me that were still healing.

But the bed looked so warm. And I was so tired of being cold.

Eventually, I walked over on unsteady legs and crawled under the covers, staying as far from him as the king-sized bed would allow.

He chuckled, low and amused. "Are you planning to fall off the edge?"

"If necessary."

"How dramatic."

And then—he moved.

One strong arm reached across the distance I'd carefully created, slow and certain, wrapping around my waist like he had every right to touch me.

He pulled me against him, and suddenly I was pressed against the solid heat of his chest, feeling every breath he took.

I went rigid. "Dominic."

"Hmm?" His voice was muffled against my hair, and I could feel his lips brushing the sensitive spot behind my ear.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Cuddling." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Stop."

"No." His arm tightened around me, not possessive, just... secure. Like an anchor in a storm.

"Why not?"

"Because you're warm, and I'm cold, and I've missed this." His honesty hit me like a physical blow. "I've missed you."

I wanted to fight him. Wanted to pull away and rebuild the walls between us. But his body was so warm against mine, and it had been so long since I'd felt safe enough to let someone hold me.

After a minute of me lying there stiff as a board, he spoke again.

"Are you ready for tomorrow night?"

"For what specifically? The gala, the deal, or the part where everything could go spectacularly wrong?"

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. "All of it."

I swallowed hard. "I don't know. Maybe. Ask me again when I'm not terrified."

"It's going to be dangerous, Scarlett. More dangerous than you know."

I nodded against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek.

His hand moved, settling gently against my still-flat stomach, his touch so careful it made my throat tight.

"You're not alone in this," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Not anymore. Whatever happens, I'll protect you. Both of you."

The room went quiet except for our breathing, and I could feel something shifting between us, some wall crumbling that I wasn't sure I was ready to lose.

I tilted my head to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling, his jaw tight with tension.

"The baby too?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

His voice was quieter this time, almost vulnerable. "Especially the baby."

Something warm and dangerous bloomed in my chest. I wanted to say something, to acknowledge what he was offering, but the words stuck in my throat.

Instead, I just closed my eyes and let myself sink into his warmth.

For the first time in months—maybe for the first time since everything fell apart—I fell asleep feeling protected.

I fell asleep in the arms of the man who'd saved me from my destruction and might just be the key to my salvation.

Even if I wasn't ready to admit it yet.