Chapter Five

Aria woke to a morning so bright it felt staged, the city stretched beneath a thin winter sun. The night before still clung to her like smoke: the chase through the pier, the cold burn of rain, Dominic’s unreadable eyes. She made coffee twice as strong as usual and tried to convince herself that the flash drive on her desk was just another assignment.

But the apartment felt smaller now. Each creak in the floorboard, each distant siren, sounded amplified, as if the world outside were pressing closer. She left the curtains half-drawn, nervous without knowing why.

By early afternoon she’d written nothing. Her notes remained blank, her recorder untouched. She sat cross-legged on the couch, laptop open but screen dark, the flash drive a small, accusing weight beside it. She could almost feel the city breathing under her window: traffic in long sighs, a rhythm too deliberate to ignore.

A soft knock broke the hush.

Her first thought was that it was a neighbor, maybe a package. The second, sharper, was that someone had followed her. She slipped the flash drive into her pocket before moving to the door.

Dominic stood in the hallway.

No coat this time, just a charcoal sweater and black jeans. The look suited him almost too well. Rain had left faint shadows in his hair though the sky outside was clear. He held no weapon, carried nothing but the quiet certainty of someone who had already decided to be here.

“I was nearby,” he said.

“That’s not really an explanation.”

“I didn’t think you’d accept one.”

Aria hesitated, then stepped aside. “You tracked me.”

“I checked on you,” he corrected, entering without waiting for permission. “Different thing.”

The apartment seemed to contract around him. Dominic took in the room with a glance that landed on every detail, the unwashed mug, the stack of unopened mail, like a silent map. He moved toward the window and studied the street below.

“You have a shadow,” he said.

Aria crossed her arms. “Meaning?”

“A car’s been circling the block. Same plates I saw near the pier.”

Her stomach tightened. “And you came to tell me this out of…professional courtesy?”

“Something like that.” He turned to face her fully. “And because I couldn’t stay away.”

The words hung in the air, startling in their simplicity. Aria felt the pulse in her throat quicken. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

“I didn’t come to reassure you.”

Silence settled between them, thick as fog. Dominic’s eyes held hers, steady and unreadable, and she hated how easily the room’s temperature seemed to change under that gaze.

He took a step closer. Not threatening, deliberate. “Have you looked at what’s on the drive?”

“Not yet.”

“You should.” His voice softened. “But not alone.”

Aria exhaled, forcing herself to keep her distance. “You think I scare easily?”

“I think you’re smart enough to know when something’s bigger than you.”

She turned toward the kitchen, needing space. “Coffee?”

“If you’re offering.”

The ordinary words felt strange after the tension. She busied herself with the kettle, hyper-aware of his presence. The scent of ground beans filled the room, grounding her in small motions—measure, pour, stir, while he leaned against the counter a careful arm’s length away.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said finally. “Why really come?”

Dominic looked at her, just enough to disarm. “Because when I left last night, it felt…unfinished.”

Aria’s laugh was short, nervous. “Unfinished? We outran gunmen. I’d say that’s plenty.”

“Not for me.” he said, without flinching.

The kettle hissed. She poured the water, hands steady though her heartbeat wasn’t. “You’re not exactly the type to chase loose ends.”

“Maybe you’re not a loose end.”

The air thickened. The faint hum of the refrigerator and the city’s distant traffic became the only sounds. Dominic’s presence was magnetic, a pull she both resisted and recognized. She handed him a cup, fingers brushing his. The contact was a spark, small, undeniable.

He didn’t move back. “You feel it too,” he said quietly, smirking.

Aria’s breath caught. She wanted to deny it, to bury the heat that flashed under her skin, but the truth lingered in the charged stillness between them. “That’s not the point,” she managed.

“Maybe it is.”

For a heartbeat neither spoke. The city beyond the glass might have disappeared entirely. Dominic’s gaze held hers, a silent question she wasn’t ready to answer. Yet she didn’t step away.

He set his untouched coffee on the counter. “If you’d rather I go, say it.”

Aria opened her mouth, but the words refused to form. Something heavier, unnamed, filled the space where her refusal should have been.

Dominic took a slow step forward. “Aria.”

Her name on his lips was low, deliberate. She felt the sound more than heard it.

She found herself leaning back against the counter. “This is insane,” she whispered.

“Probably.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper.

“That’s nothing compared to what I’m dying to do to you.”

The distance between them narrowed until the scent of rain still clinging to his clothes mingled with the rich smell of coffee. His hand rose, hesitant, waiting, until it hovered near her cheek. She didn’t move. When his fingers finally brushed her skin, he grabbed her hand and guided it towards his groin.

“You don't know what you do to me.” He growled.

Aria closed her eyes.

The world outside held its breath.

They stood like that for what felt like a suspended minute, a single point in time where choice still existed. Dominic’s thumb traced the faintest line along her jaw, and she turned into it before she could think.

When he spoke again, the words were almost lost to the quiet. “Tell me to leave.”

Aria’s answer was a sound closer to a sigh than a word. Her hand found his wrist, not to push him away but to anchor him there.

He leaned in.

The first kiss was careful, almost tentative, a slow press of lips that tasted of rain and restless nights. Then another, deeper, as if they’d both decided at the same moment that hesitation was no longer possible.

Aria felt the room dissolve. The noise of the street, the steady tick of the clock, even the weight of the flash drive, all of it slipped away. There was only the warmth of his mouth, the strength of his arms drawing her closer.

She broke the kiss first, breathless, heart hammering. “Dominic…”

He grabbed the back of her neck, and pulled her to his hungry lips. He kissed her like a starved man.

But neither of them moved.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her, setting her close to eye-level on the counter. The counter was cold against her thighs as he stepped between them, forcing them further apart.

Her breasts pressed against his hard, warm abs and a shiver rolled through him. He ran his face up and down her neck, as though he was savoring her smell, or maybe languishing in the fact that he’d caught his next meal.

“Fuck. You feel good,” he groaned against her throat.

This man had changed roles from a dangerous Mafia boss, to someone she was hungry for. The whiplash had given her no time to act but on instinct alone. She wanted him, but at the unknown, a cool breath of fear dripped into her subconscious.

His large hands ran down her sides, from underneath her breasts to low on her hips, his thumbs brushing bare skin beneath the band of her shorts. It was a maddening sensation, the kind that made her ache for him to choose a direction, up or down, anywhere at all. His hard length pressed insistently against the inside of her thigh, a silent plea that stole her breath.

“Take off your shirt.” he commanded.

She complied without thinking. His hands grabbed her breast, his eyes dilated and so focused, you'd think it was the last thing he'd do on earth.

“You're so beautiful.”

She couldn't even hear him over her moans. “Please…”

“Spread your legs for me baby”

His command was hot, rough and rattled the existing fear. With an unsteady inhale, she complied. He fisted her shorts and pulled it down her legs along with her thong. Dropping them on the floor.

Aria spread her legs once more, past the point of rational thought. His gaze fell between her thighs. He gave his head a shake, running a hand down his tie.

“Fuck.” That’s all he said, before his arms wrapped around the backs of her thighs, he jerked her to the edge of the counter, and then his head lowered between them. She shuddered under the first hot, wet touch of his tongue. A deep rush of pleasure flooded her, a stronger wave rolling through her core at every soft, slow lap he took from the entrance to her clit.

This dangerous man was being surprisingly gentle, reverent, in what he was doing.

He held her so securely she couldn't move her hips, while he took his time licking her like he was doing it for himself and not her.

“Oh God,” she moaned, dipping her hands into his thick hair. Her toes curled, her skin was hot under his touch.

“You're killing me..,” she cried

“I haven't even started,” he growled in-between her thighs.

“I can't..” she found the words slipping from her lips when he swirled his tongue over her clit before sucking.

His eyes flashed, and then a feeling of fullness came over her when he slipped one finger inside her, then two. His fingers moved in and out of her, again and again. He did it so leisurely, making deep noises of satisfaction every once in a while.

All she found herself repeating was “please,” over and over.

The evening bled into night as if time itself had given them permission. Conversation became murmurs, touches became a language. Dominic followed her unspoken lead, each motion deliberate, offering her every chance to pull back. She never did.

The city beyond her windows dimmed to a blur of neon and shadow while the apartment filled with the quiet rhythm of shared breath. Nothing hurried; everything inevitable. She felt how hot he was through the fabric, how thick, how big and hard and utterly masculine. Any hesitation was pushed away by a rush of longing, and she slipped her fingers beneath his waistband and wrapped her hand around his length.

“Ah fuck,” he groaned.

Hot and smooth. Holding it in her palm filled her lower stomach with warmth. She could taste the anticipation of how it would feel inside her. A pulse bloomed between her legs. She ran her hand down to the base and then all the way back up.

“I want it,” she breathed.

His hand cupped the side of her face.

“Ask me nicely,” he rasped, nipping her jaw.

When she squeezed, he hissed and shot her a narrowed gaze. She gave him a slow, gentle tug and whispered in his ear,

“Please.”

Her face burned as she watched him grab his erection at the base and reach for a condom under her drawer.

She wondered how he’d guessed such a thing, but the urge to challenge him faded as quickly as it came.

Dominic’s mouth lingered at her throat, a slow brush that carried more heat than the room itself.

His hands slid to her waist, steady and sure, and she felt the subtle invitation in the way he lifted her, no rush, just a quiet certainty that matched the quickened rhythm of her heart.

Aria wrapped her arms around his shoulders. The counter edge fell away beneath her as he drew her against him, every step unhurried yet inevitable.

The apartment blurred into shadow and soft lamplight while he carried her down the short hallway, each movement a silent question she answered with the tightening of her hold.

The door to her bedroom stood open, the sheets a pale shimmer in the muted glow.

Dominic lowered her onto the mattress with a care that belied the charged energy between them, the scent of rain still clinging to his clothes.

The world outside ceased to matter; only the quiet hum of the city and the warmth of his breath remained.

He tasted like he smelled, and she couldn’t get enough. She was all over him, running her hands into his hair. She kissed his throat with tongue, nipped at his earlobe, and sucked on his neck.

“Enough,” he growled with frustration, and fisted the hair at her nape to make her stop.

She pulled back with half-lidded eyes. Her breasts brushed his chest, sending sizzles of pleasure lower and making her ache for friction.

“Wait,” he gritted, stripping away his sweater and tugging his jeans past the curve of his muscular thighs

She gasped, this wasn't just a man, she thought, he was a god.

His chiseled body glistened under the moonlight peeping from the windows.

A tremble rolled through her, her exhales were heavy and uneven. She stared at his erection. He was so big she could imagine the pain she'd go through.

He stared at her with a dark look rivaling madness.

And then, with a growl, he tossed her onto her back and thrust all the way inside of her. She cried out, her back arching off the bed. So full, too full. She pushed on his chest to get him to ease out, but he remained so deep she could feel him in her stomach. His body was so heavy as he lay on top of her, one hand braced on the bed and the other cradling her head.

He held her by a fistful of hair at her nape and then he fucked her.

Skin against skin. A scrape of teeth. The heavy weight of him.

Unrelenting. It was so intense she fought to find air to breathe, to find anything that wasn’t harsh and him. Soon, the intensity softened, her body warming and molding to his. Every thrust began to kindle a spark inside of her that only the next thrust could sate. Her nails dug into his biceps, and a small shudder rolled under his skin.

He talked while he screwed, right against her ear in a deep rasp, and it made her crazy.

“You take it so good,” he praised.

“So fucking tight.”

“So wet for me.”

The words sank into her skin and filled every space in her body with warm satisfaction.

Every time his pelvis ground against hers, molten heat spread from her clit outward. A throaty moan escaped her lips with every thrust, as though he pushed each one out of her.

She was nothing but heat and flame and pleasure.

“Fuck, you’ve got to be quiet,” he groaned in her ear. “Or this is going to be over before I’m ready.”

He covered her mouth with his palm, while the other hand remained fisted in her hair. It was rough and restrictive and so addictive.

The orgasm was immediate and so violent it sent a shudder through her body, it chattered her teeth. Heat pulsed in her lower stomach before branching out in tingles and dazzles of the best feeling ever.

When she came down, it was to him motionless inside her watching with a gaze dark as night. He pulled his hand from her mouth, and by the teeth marks she realized she'd bitten down on it when she came.

A rumble of satisfaction came from his chest, and he rested his forehead against hers.

“I’m going to come and then I’m going to fuck you again.”

He stayed close, their breaths mingling in the narrow space between them as he thrust inside with a slow deliberate rhythm. Each measured motion carried a startling tenderness, leaving her feeling stripped of every defense, as if the very air against her skin had turned electric.

She couldn’t escape it, not with his hand tangled in her hair and the weight of him anchoring her in place, not with his rough words still echoing in her ears.

When at last they drifted into a loose embrace on her bed, the world returned slowly, distant sirens, the faint warmth of cooling coffee, the soft hum of the heater.

Aria rested her head against Dominic’s shoulder, the flash drive a silent sentinel on the table.

Neither spoke for a long time.

Finally Dominic said, almost to himself, “This doesn’t make you any safer.”

“I know.”

“And it doesn’t change what’s coming.”

“I know that too.”

His arm tightened slightly around her. “Then why?”

Aria closed her eyes, letting the question settle. “Because for once,” she whispered, “I don’t want to run.”

Dawn crept in, finding them tangled together on the bed. The first pale light stretching across the floor. Outside, the city resumed its restless pulse, but the apartment carried a fragile calm

Dominic stood first, silent as always, retrieving his clothes from the floor, and his coat from the chair. He paused at the door. “I’ll be close,” he said. “But you keep that drive hidden.”

Aria nodded, the memory of the night a quiet ache she didn’t want to name.

When the door closed behind him, the apartment felt different, not empty, but changed, as if the walls themselves had shifted to make room for something new and dangerous. She glanced at the flash drive, small and unassuming on the table.

She let out a muffled groan into the pillow, the weight of her choices settling in. What had she done?

The story waited. So did everything else.