41. His Sinner
Chapter forty-one
His Sinner
I finish my drink, the alcohol doing nothing to calm the twisting in my stomach, and mutter an excuse to Sam about needing some air. She barely notices, too busy laughing with the gym rat she’s been flirting with since we got here. The noise of the bar fades as I step outside, the cool night air hitting my flushed skin.
I lean against the brick wall, taking a deep breath, but it does nothing to settle the storm inside me.
Why am I letting this get to me? Why does seeing him with her—the blonde, the perfect opposite of me—feel like a knife twisting in my chest? I left him. I made that choice. So why does it feel like he’s the one who’s moved on, while I’m still stuck?
I run a hand through my hair, letting out a shaky breath, and then I hear it. The sound of heavy boots on the pavement, the unmistakable weight of his presence before I even see him.
“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” Dominic’s voice cuts through the quiet.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest. “I needed air.”
“Sure you did,” he says, leaning casually against the wall a few feet away, his eyes locked on mine.
“Don’t do this,” I say, turning my back on him and wishing he’d go away. “Not tonight.”
“Do what?” he asks, feigning innocence. “Call you out? Come on, Little Sinner, let’s not pretend you didn’t come out here hoping I’d follow.”
“Go back inside, Dominic,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “You’ve got company waiting for you.”
He chuckles, the sound closer, and I hear the soft scuff of his boots on the pavement. “You think I give a shit about her?”
I whirl around, my fists clenched at my sides. “I don’t know. From where I was sitting, it sure as hell looked like it.”
“What’s the matter?” he taunts, his tone dripping with mockery. “Jealous?”
“Fuck you, Dominic,” I snap, my voice trembling with anger. “I never took you for a liar.”
That gets his attention. His smirk falters, his jaw tightening as he steps even closer to me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You said I’m yours,” I spit, my voice trembling with rage. “Isn’t that what you said? That I’m yours, and no one else gets to touch me? So tell me something—how does that work when you’re fucking whoever you want?”
His eyes narrow, a dangerous glint flashing in them, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
“You don’t get to have it both ways,” I say, my voice breaking slightly. “You don’t get to call me yours and then act like I don’t fucking matter. And with someone who is the complete opposite of me? If you wanted to hurt me, well, congratulations, Dominic, you have. You’ve made me feel like nothing.”
“You’re not nothing,” he growls, his voice low and sharp. “Don’t fucking twist this, Aria.”
“I’m not twisting anything!” I snap, my voice rising. “You can’t even admit what you’re doing. You’re sitting there, letting some perfect little Barbie climb all over you, while I—” My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, willing the tears back.
I walk up to him and push his shoulder. “I haven’t let Mason touch me since the beach house because it felt like I was betraying you! How fucked up is that? He’s my fiancé and it felt like I was betraying you! And now you’re here, flaunting your next woman in front of me like you didn’t fucking brand me!”
His jaw tightens, the smirk finally slipping from his face, replaced by something more dangerous. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” I challenge, my hands trembling as I glare at him. “You’re the one who made all those promises, Dominic. You’re the one who couldn’t stop saying I was yours. So what the fuck is this?”
“It’s me doing whatever the fuck I want,” he snaps, stepping closer, his voice sharp enough to cut. “You left, Aria. You made your choice.”
“And you didn’t stop me,” I shoot back, my chest tight with anger and confusion because I don’t even know what the fuck I want anymore. “You just stood there and let me go. So don’t stand here and act like this is my fault.”
He stares at me, his eyes burning, and for a moment, I think he’s going to say something—something that might make this all make sense. But then he smirks again, and it feels like a slap in the face.
“You’re cute when you’re angry,” he says, his tone infuriatingly casual. “But you’re wasting your breath. You don’t get to tell me how to live my life, Aria. Not anymore.”
I take a shaky step back, my chest heaving. If this is how he wants to play it, then I need to end it now. I need to stop being a fucking coward and chose between whatever fucked up thing is going on between us, and the peaceful life I deserve. So, with my heart shattering, I say the words I should have said a long time ago.
“Dominic,” I whisper, my voice breaking, “stop.”
The look on his face shifts, the smirk slipping as his eyes flicker with something almost like hurt. I don’t wait to hear his response. I turn and walk back inside, my legs trembling with every step, my heart pounding like it’s trying to escape my chest.
The noise of the bar hits me like a wave, and I make my way to the counter, needing something—anything—to dull the ache in my chest. I order another drink, the bartender sliding it over quickly, and I down half of it in one go.
I lean against the bar, gripping my glass tighter than necessary as the bartender pours another round for me. The noise of the crowd is a dull roar in the background, but my focus is elsewhere.
My chest feels tight, my head swirling with Dominic’s words, his smirk, the infuriating way he taunted me outside. Like none of this mattered. Like I didn’t matter.
I know it’s unfair of me to think this way, but I can’t help it! He did this to me; he made me think that he actually gave a fuck about me, but now I know he never did. I was just a prize he wanted to break. Nothing more, nothing less.
The sting of his dismissal still burns, and I take another sip of my drink, the alcohol doing nothing to dull the ache twisting in my chest. I hate him. I hate that he can make me feel so small with a single look.
I signal for another drink, but before I can lift it, I feel a sharp, stinging slap on my ass. My breath catches, and I whip around, my heart racing. A man, tall and unassuming, is already walking away, laughing with his friends as if nothing happened.
My skin burns with humiliation, my fingers tightening around the glass in my hand.
“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath, the word doing little to satisfy the surge of anger bubbling in my chest.
I glance around the bar, my face hot, and take a deep breath to steady myself. It’s fine, I tell myself. Just another drunk idiot. Let it go.
But it doesn’t feel fine. It feels invasive, wrong, and I can’t shake the heat crawling up my neck. I finish my drink in one long gulp, the liquid burning on its way down, and turn to head back to Sam. My steps feel shaky, my chest tight with frustration and the lingering sting of embarrassment.
Sam is still laughing with the guy she’s been flirting with, her cheeks flushed from the drinks. I sink into the seat next to her, noticing she ordered another drink while I was gone and forcing a smile when she glances at me.
“You good?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, her eyes narrowing.
“I’m fine,” I lie, my voice tight. “Just… needed a drink.”
She nods, clearly not noticing the tension radiating off me, and goes back to her conversation. I lift my glass, letting the cool condensation drip down my fingers as I scan the room. It’s automatic, my eyes drawn to the far side of the bar where Dominic sits with his brothers again.
Dominic’s eyes meet mine but the smirk is gone. So is the nonchalance, the act he’s put on all night. But I realize he’s not looking at me, exactly, but over my shoulder, past me, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed on someone else.
I follow his line of sight, my stomach twisting when I realize where he’s looking. The guy who slapped my ass is standing near the dartboard, laughing loudly with his friends, completely unaware of the storm brewing on the other side of the bar.
My heart pounds as I glance back at Dominic. His hand grips his glass so tightly I half-expect it to shatter, and his eyes are locked on the guy. The air around him seems to vibrate with barely restrained fury, and I know, without a doubt, he saw what happened.
A chill runs down my spine, and I grip my glass tighter, my fingers trembling slightly. I know that look. I’ve seen it before, back when I thought Dominic was the only thing standing between me and the worst kind of hell.
It’s the look he gets when he’s about to make someone bleed.
“Sam,” I say suddenly, my voice louder than I intended. She startles, turning to me with wide eyes. “I think I’m ready to leave.”
“Leave?” she echoes, frowning. “We just got here.”
“I know,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “But I’m tired. It’s been a long week, and I’m not really feeling it tonight.”
She glances back at the guy she’s been talking to, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You sure? I mean, we can stay a little longer—”
“I’m sure,” I say firmly, cutting her off. “I’ll get an Uber or something if you want to stay.”
She hesitates, her eyes searching mine, and I can tell she’s torn. But eventually, she nods, her shoulders slumping slightly.
“Alright,” she says, standing and grabbing her bag. “Let me say goodbye to muscle man over there, and then we’ll go.”
I nod, relief washing over me as she walks back to the guy, her tone light and apologetic as she explains. I glance back toward Dominic one last time, my stomach twisting when I see him still staring at the guy near the dartboard, his expression as dark and dangerous as ever.
I don’t know what he’s planning, and I don’t want to stick around to find out. Whatever it is, it won’t be pretty. And as much as I hate him right now, as much as I want to scream at him for everything he’s put me through, I can’t stomach the thought of him getting into a fight because of me.
“Let’s go,” Sam says, appearing at my side again, her smile faint but genuine. “I told him we’d meet up another time.”
“Thanks,” I say, my voice soft, and together we make our way toward the door.
You don’t get to tell me how to live my life, Aria. Not anymore.
The words replay in my head, each one cutting deeper than the last. Because the truth is, I don’t want to tell him how to live his life. I just want to know why I can’t seem to live mine without him in it.
I glance around, half-expecting to see Dominic waiting for me, but the sidewalk is empty. For the first time in weeks, I almost wish he was there.
Because no matter how much I hate him, no matter how much he infuriates me, at least when he’s around, I don’t feel so fucking alone.