Chapter 8

Since Dominic had already made his point, pressing the issue any further would've just made me seem petty.

Staring straight ahead, Dominic said offhandedly, "Celeste is coming to headquarters next week. One of the clients is close with her and asked for her personally. Normally, James would handle this kind of reception, but his immediate family member passed away last night. He just went back, so let's not bother him. You'll handle it this time."

"Understood. How many people are coming?"

"Just one."

We discussed the reception standards and a few things I needed to take note of. Before we wrapped up, Dominic told me to book a room and send him the room number.

There had always been rumors in the company about something going on between Celeste and Dominic. She showed up at headquarters every now and then under the guise of "client relations," but no one had ever seen the supposed client.

Now, it didn't seem like a rumor anymore.

Two short honks pulled me back to reality. Eric's car had arrived.

The car had already stopped right in front of us, but Dominic still didn't let go of my hand.

Eric hurried out from the driver's seat to open the door for us.

I thought Dominic had only walked me out to see me off. Instead, he climbed into the car still holding my hand, right in front of Eric.

"Lakecrest Estate," he instructed coolly.

It was one of Dominic's many properties, nestled in the city center's prime district — high-end real estate with top-tier property management and a price tag that could make anyone's jaw drop.

The entire ride there, Eric kept trying to butter Dominic up. His flattery was so nauseating that I wanted to curl my toes into the floor mat and disappear.

When we finally pulled up in front of Lakecrest, Eric hurried out again to open the door. Dominic got out, still holding my hand, and brought me with him.

Eric and I stared at each other across the car hood, frozen in mutual disbelief.

Dominic gave a calm goodbye. "Thanks for the ride, Eric."

Eric hesitated, then quickly forced a smile. "Mr. Chase, you're too kind. It's an honor to be of service."

"To me?" Dominic chuckled, then turned to glance at me. "Yes, you served quite well. You should head home now. Drive safe."

And just like that, he slipped an arm around my waist and guided me into the estate.

Dominic strolled along at ease, but I felt tense and ashamed, like I'd just been paraded for the world to see.

Where else could you find a couple like us? A husband dropping off his wife to cheat.

Once inside, Dominic casually tossed his coat over the sofa, unbuttoned two of his shirt buttons, and revealed his toned collarbone.

He liked wearing white shirts. His skin was fair and clear, and together it gave him a crisp, clean-cut elegance.

I took off my coat and turned around just in time to see him standing at the liquor cabinet, back to me, pouring two glasses of red.

He liked a little wine before bed. I took the glass and clinked it gently against his — an unspoken ritual between us by now.

Seated across the bar from him, I watched as he rolled up his sleeves after removing his cufflinks, exposing his lean and defined forearms.

He downed the rest of the wine in a single gulp, then asked, "So this is what you call love?"

I froze.

From the moment he pulled me into the car, I knew what Dominic was trying to say.

It wasn't that he didn't want to drive; he'd been waiting for this moment to humiliate the so-called "love" I had spoken of.

I lowered my eyes. There was nothing to say.

"You still don't get it?" Dominic asked.

Of course I did. What he didn't understand was that Eric and I had only ever planned to use him — a surrogate conception, nothing more.

"You say he loves you. If he really loved you, would he hand you over to me?" Dominic poured me another glass, his tone gentle. "You're hopelessly naive."

I fiddled with the stem of the glass, wondering how I could get him to let his guard down tonight.

The sooner I got pregnant, the sooner I could leave him.

So I softened my voice and said, "Mr. Chase, you're right. I admit I've been foolish. But Eric does love me — that part's real. He may not be as successful as you, but at home, he treats me well. He never lets me do chores. He's gentle and attentive.

"My family of origin wasn't exactly happy. My parents were cold and harsh. Ever since I met Eric, he's been the only one to make me feel truly cared for, loved, and protected."

Dominic took a sip of wine and responded with a teasing smile, "And that's why you're willing to warm my bed to boost his career?"

One sentence. And all my carefully crafted justification crumbled. Honestly, it was pathetic, even laughable.

Trying to salvage my pride, I said, "Mr. Chase, you helped my family through a financial crisis. I'm deeply grateful. And you gave Eric the chance to prove himself — a bigger stage to grow. Professionally and personally, I owe you a debt I'll never forget.

"But the feelings between Eric and me are something you wouldn't understand."

Dominic crooked a finger at me. I got up and walked over. He lifted my wine glass, took a sip, then pulled me into a kiss, passing the wine into my mouth.

I could feel the silk ribbon at my collar being untied, slowly, as if unwrapping a gift.

His gaze, warmed by wine, was dark and burning. The kiss turned wild, intense, and consuming.

I couldn't resist him. He lifted me onto the bar counter, and we lost ourselves in each other right there.

I caught a glimpse of our reflection in the crystal chandelier above — our entwined figures, my flushed cheeks, and the dazed, intoxicated look in my eyes.

That night, he completely lost control. I wanted to use the brooch — the one Eric had given me — but just as I reached for it, he knocked it away.

In the stillness of the room, the brooch hit the floor with a crisp metallic clink.

Another chance, gone.

The next morning, I opened my eyes and took in the unfamiliar furnishings. I was still in Dominic's apartment.

I slipped on his robe and walked out to the living room, only to find a woman in her fifties walking out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of steaming hot porridge.

She smiled warmly when she saw me. "Ms. Monroe, you're up? Come have some breakfast."

I paused. "I haven't washed up yet. I'll go freshen up first."

As I turned, I stopped and asked, "How should I address you?"

She replied kindly, "I'm one of Dominic's distant relatives. You can call me Laney."

"I…" I didn't know how to explain the relationship between Dominic and me.

Sensing my unease, she approached and gently asked, "Sweetheart, how old are you?"

The question caught me off guard.

I answered honestly, "Twenty-eight."

She smiled and took my hand. "Perfect. Dominic's thirty-one this year. You two are a great match. He never gave us any trouble growing up, but now that he's older, the family's all anxious. I've taken care of him for years, and you're the first girl he's ever brought home."

Great. Just what I needed — a full-blown misunderstanding.

I was about to explain when I blurted, "Laney—"

"Hmm?" She arched a brow.

I wanted to clarify that I wasn't his girlfriend, but just then, the study door opened. Dominic stepped out, holding a few sheets of paper. He turned to Laney.

"Laney, I checked the fridge. Looks like we're out of groceries. Can you go pick up some fresh ingredients?"

She caught on right away, untied her apron, and said, "Good thing you mentioned it. I completely forgot. I'll head out now. Just leave your bowls on the table after you eat. I'll clean up when I get back."

Once she left, Dominic handed me the stack of papers.

I took them and asked, "What's this?"

But the bolded title at the top already answered the question: Divorce Agreement

I looked up at him in disbelief.

Dominic's voice was calm and firm. "I drafted this first thing this morning. Sign it. My lawyer will handle the rest."