Chapter 3

By the time Dominic's desire had finally subsided, it was deep into the night.

Dominic emerged from the bathroom, seated himself on the couch, and casually lit a cigarette. The wisps of smoke danced around his sharp, handsome features.

I stared, lost in thought, until his next words snapped me back.

"Get a divorce."

I blinked in disbelief.

Noting my stunned expression, he crushed out his cigarette and adopted an air of authority. "It's going to happen eventually, one way or another."

Why was he so certain? To him, I was just a thrill—a disposable companion. My life with Eric was meant to be lasting. Did Dominic really expect to play house?

He cut through my thoughts with disdain. "Stop dreaming. I'm not marrying you. I just find it inconvenient."

Inconvenient? What did he mean by that?

Besides, what we had was just a fling. When the spark's gone, we'd move on. Since when did he get a say in my marriage?

I replied steadily. "This assistant role of mine won't last. You shouldn't fuss over petty details of my life."

Surely, he understood. Whatever he could command, he couldn't control my life.

He dug the red wine bottle from the table, poured a drink, and looked at me with a cold amusement.

"You picked the right words. In fact, I do care about details."

He sipped, the movement accentuating his neck and throat. The sight made memories of our heated kisses flash before me, and I felt heat bloom in my cheeks.

"Divorce has never crossed my mind," I muttered.

He tipped his head, beckoning with a finger. Reluctantly, I wrapped my robe tighter and moved toward him.

He took my hand, guiding me to sit on his lap. Then he loosened my robe's collar. I instinctively covered myself.

"Do you think you've earned your husband's unwavering loyalty?"

His question left me speechless. He traced the soft curve of my ear with his fingertip. I had no defense.

"Don't be naive. At your age, being naive borders on foolish. A husband who loves his wife wouldn't send his wife to someone else's bed."

My lips parted, but no rebuttal came. Finally, I forced out, "You have no right to control my private life."

"Oh really?" He let out an amused hum through his nose—that dark, velvety laugh that sent a shiver down my spine. Right now, I was nothing more than a canary in his gilded cage, and he knew exactly how to twist the lock.

He lifted the wine glass to my lips. I drank. When he let me hold the glass, he said bluntly, "I control your life. When I tell you to hold something, you hold it. When I tell you to pour, you pour."

It was true. Eric's career advancement, my family's debts… I had no choice.

He looked at me once more. "Are you sure you can rely on him forever?"

I hesitated and then realized: everything he offered hinged on him, not Eric.

Stubbornly, I met his gaze and said, "I can't rely on you forever either. But my marriage with Eric… as long as I don't give up, he will never give up on me."

Dominic shook his head, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

Summoning the last shred of my courage, I met his gaze head-on, determined to win this round, to prove that Eric loved me, to show I was here by choice, not coercion.

My voice didn't waver as I said, "Dominic, I know my place with you. But this—this was my choice. Eric never forced me."

By the time I finished speaking, even I could hear the uncertainty in my own voice. But he just... laughed a low, knowing chuckle that made my skin prickle.

Dominic raised his hand, his fingers tracing my jawline with deliberate slowness. A smirk played at his lips—the look of a man enjoying his own private show.

"People only learn the hard way. Walls teach us, not each other."

I blinked at him. His meaning unsettled me. Was he threatening Eric?

I said, "You promised to promote Eric to regional manager."

His hand slid to my neck, lifting my chin.

"Promise made, promise kept. But you must remember: when you're with me, no other man is allowed in your mind."

I felt the steel in his tone. "Understood," I said.

He checked the clock. "Go to sleep. We have clients to meet tomorrow. Dinner after."

"Okay."

I had no idea what was in store. But I would soon find out I was the evening's centerpiece.

…

The next morning, Celeste waited downstairs. When she saw us walking out together, her smile was polished, but her gaze at me cut like a blade.

Every step I took hurt—the morning's encounter had been rougher than I expected. My body was sore. I walked slower.

Celeste saw how awkward my walk was, and she immediately understood what had transpired. She sneered, "Ms. Monroe, if you're feeling unwell, you should rest in the room. Mr. Chase and I can handle the business meeting."

When it came to business, I had to admit—I wasn't exactly involved. In fact, I didn't handle any actual deals. My role had always been… attending to Dominic.

But her pointed remarks still got to me. No matter how much I tried to shrug it off, every insinuation dug under my skin like a splinter I couldn't ignore.

"Thanks, Ms. Hart, for your concern, but I'm fine."

I boarded the car first, slipping into the seat she'd been eying.

She bent down beside me, unable to oppose in front of Dominic, and settled behind Dominic.

"Mr. Chase," she announced, her hand on the seat in front, "we're meeting with Mr. Grant of TempTech at the Bluecrest Private Club tonight. His wife is joining. The invitation came rather last minute, but I took the liberty of preparing an appropriate gift. The gift is in my car."

Dominic glanced at his phone. "Send me the invoice. Finance will reimburse it."

I was well-versed in the etiquette of these corporate affairs. When a client brought his wife to such engagements, protocol dictated selecting a luxury gift matching her status—something tasteful yet appropriately prestigious.

"Don't worry about the reimbursement," she said. "Mrs. Grant and I go way back. We're old classmates. We haven't seen each other in a while. She's always been cautious about these things. If it comes from me, she'll accept it."

The unspoken message was clear: Now Dominic would have to bring her to the dinner.

Dominic nodded his consent.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her barely concealed satisfaction. The writing was on the wall—I might as well start preparing myself to be excluded from tonight's dinner altogether.

After the morning meetings, Dominic had someone deliver a form-fitting black evening gown and a pair of lambskin heels to my room.

The shoes were black leather with red soles—there was a wild, untamed edge to them when walking, something fierce beneath their elegance.

Standing in front of the mirror, I wiped off my bold lipstick and replaced it with a softer shade, something warmer and more approachable.

I had just changed when the door opened—Dominic had a key to my room as well.

He walked up behind me, eyes meeting mine through the reflection. His hand slid around my waist as he leaned in, brushing a kiss against the nape of my neck. Slowly, his long fingers traced upward, stopping at the softest part of me.

When he lifted the hem of my dress, I gasped in surprise.

I tried to protest that we didn't have time, but my body betrayed me as I leaned into him.

He pressed me against the mirror, giving in to a frenzy that was as beautiful as it was reckless.

Afterwards, he let the skirt fall and gave me a moment to compose myself and freshen up. We were leaving.

…

When I accompanied Dominic into the private room of the Bluecrest Private Club, Celeste was already there.

Dressed in lavish jewels and an opulent gown, she carried herself with the poise of a hostess. She took Dominic's coat and hung it up with a practiced grace, then turned to ask me to pour the tea.

Dominic and Celeste sat side by side, discussing the details of tonight's meeting with Mr. Grant.

I stood quietly off to the side, nothing more than a servant girl pouring drinks.