Dominic Sinclair Novels & Stories

Although, he didn't seem to mind it at all. "Thank you. You look handsome." I said honestly, a grin on my face. Dominic always looked neat but that particular night, he looked a little bit different. A good different. He was dressed in a black suit and tie, tailored for his large body. The tattoos trailed down from his neck down to his hands and onto his fingers. At first glance, one would know not to fuck with him. He looked ravishing and despite telling myself it wouldn't happen again, I knew it would because I wanted it to.

Nova. “Oh God,” Castiel whispered, his eyes widening in horror. The realization hit him with the force of a freight train. Dominic Sinclair wasn’t just any man; he was one of the wealthiest and most influential figures alive. And he has heard a lot of things about him, and they are not so pleasant. Of course he knew who 'the Dominic Sinclair was' Dominic chuckled softly, the sound devoid of warmth. “Ah, there it is. Recognition. Took you long enough.” Castiel swallowed hard, his legs shaking as he tried to form a coherent response. “I-I didn’t mean for… It wasn’t supposed to—”

Dominic’s voice was sharp with a concern that bordered on desperation, as if he saw me standing on the edge of a precarious cliff. I offered a thin smile and pulled out the chair next to me. "I went out with him, yes. But it was just dinner." Dominic sat down, but the shadow of anxiety remained etched on his face. "That’s his opening move! It starts with a meal, and before you know it, he’s weaving a web of charm around you. Take my advice: stay as far away from him as possible!" My focus shattered. I stopped typing and turned my chair fully to face him. "I know his reputation, Dominic, but I found him to be surprisingly well-mannered."

All while I’m actively destroying her. “I will,” I hear myself say. The lie comes easier than it should. “I promise.” Elena lifts her head, looking up at me with those gentle eyes that still somehow see the best in everyone. “Thank you.” She kisses my cheek, soft and chaste. “You’re a good man, Dominic. I’m so lucky to have you.” The words are knives. Each one cutting deeper than the last. I’m not a good man. I’m the furthest thing from it. I’m a man who fucks his dying wife’s sister. A man who lies without hesitation. A man who’s so consumed by his own selfishness that he can’t even feel properly guilty anymore.

Who walked upstairs and packed without trembling. She had always been paying attention. She’d just needed to stop apologizing for what she saw. My phone rang. Unknown number. I stared at it a beat, then answered. “Mrs. Sinclair.” The woman’s voice was measured, careful, each word placed like someone who’d learned the high cost of carelessness. Not unkind, just guarded in a way that spoke of years protecting what couldn’t be recovered. “My name is Clara Vaughn. I’m Dominic’s mother.” Everything inside me went still.

There's no way she'd argue after I just saved her father's company from bankruptcy. After Grandpa passed I've made my area of the Sinclair conglomerate bigger than it ever was. So have my brothers, Ares and Maverick. Our last name is known in every part of the world, and everyone knows it would be a privilege to work or be associated with a Sinclair. Natalia is fully aware that our marriage is purely business and she's happy as long as the money in her account is bottomless. Ares and Maverick are convinced she's a gold digger who's only with me for my money and the privileges our last name provides. They've asked why I've not gotten a divorce, because we all know that I don't need her father

I sat there with my hands on the keyboard and my tea going cold and something very calm and very wrong settling over me. They were telling me I had just been inseminated with a stranger's sample. I read it a third time to make sure I hadn't misunderstood. I hadn't. I typed the name from the legal notice into the search bar with fingers that were not entirely steady. Cael Sinclair. The results loaded instantly. Pages of them. Sinclair Industries. Billionaire. Portland-based. Thirty-four years old. Private, notoriously private, barely a personal photograph anywhere, mostly press shots from corporate events where he stood at the edge of the frame like he'd agreed to be photographed the way oth

"He can't walk, he can't see, and worst of all, he's become a monster. " I thought about the Vito Romano I'd heard about before the accident. Devastatingly handsome, ruthlessly intelligent, the kind of man who could make women forget their own names just by looking at them. Even now, wheelchair-bound and blind, he was still considered one of the most dangerous and attractive men on the East Coast. Any woman would want to sleep with him, the thought popped into my head before I could stop it. Even now. I felt my cheeks burn. "You used to talk about him constantly," my father pointed out. "How he was the most powerful man in New York, how any woman would be lucky to catch his attention."

I was taken aback by the takeaway packages that filled the island. “Hello there. Glad you could make it.” Dominic said behind me. When I turned to face him, he had changed into a pair of black jeans and black shirt. And a single gold chain to accesorize . Any ordinary man would have looked like he was about to attend a funeral but Dominic made the outfit look as sexy as hell. I put on my best Sunday smile to cover spreading blush. “I see you went ahead and ordered. What a shame because I was about to whip up something you would never forget.”

“Then say it.” He looked at me for a long moment, as if measuring how much truth I could handle. “Giovanni isn’t just playing to win. He’s playing to destroy. You, Damon, the pack, everyone who carries your mother’s name in their blood or their heart. He’ll burn the world to see you suffer. And he's going to do it in cold blood. He's not going to care.”