Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
The Week Before Christmas
DOMHNALL
The suit is perfect—Armani, tailored within an inch of its life, so black it seems to absorb light from the room. I adjust the cuffs, checking myself in the mirror as I slip gold cufflinks through the holes. The reflection staring back at me is polished and powerful.
The perfect picture of a man who has everything under control.
What a fucking lie.
I hear Anna before I see her, the gentle patter of her feet coming up behind me, followed by the scent of her perfume—jasmine with an undertone of vanilla. She slides her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek against my back.
"You look so handsome," she murmurs, voice soft. "Everyone's going to be staring at you."
I turn, taking her in. Her hair cascades in loose waves over her shoulders, and she's wearing the emerald dress I bought her last month—fitted at the waist before flowing out in a gentle sweep that ends just above her knees. The color makes her eyes even more vibrant.
As always, the sight of her punches me in the fucking guts.
"No." I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "They'll all be looking at you."
Her smile blooms, bright and pure. This is Anna—wholesome, earnest, excited about Christmas and all the trimmings that come with it.
For weeks, she's been involved with my company's planning committee for tonight's gala.
Every night she'd come home with new ideas, a sparkle in her eyes as she talked about decorations and music and food.
She stands on her tiptoes to kiss me, a gentle brush of lips. But then she bounces on her toes, squeezing my hands. "I'm so excited tonight's finally here. I can't wait for you to see all we've planned. It's going to be so pretty. I love Christmas!"
"It's your big night, love," I laugh. Her happiness is infectious. Having her around the house brings a lightness and joy I've never known except in her presence. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
I pull her closer, breathing her in. These moments are easy—just me and Anna, no complications, no shadows.
My phone buzzes on the dresser. When I check it, I see a text from Isaak.
"Everything alright?" Anna asks, adjusting my tie with careful hands.
"Just confirming the security details for tonight." I tuck the phone away. "You ready? Car should be here in ten."
She nods, excitement evident in her eyes, but she pauses, a small frown creasing her brow. "Domhn... I just—I know things have been..." She trails off, searching for words.
"Complicated?" I offer, keeping my tone light.
She smiles, relief softening her features. "Yes. Complicated. But I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you do. How patient you've been."
My chest tightens. Anna doesn't miss much, despite what people might think. She sees the strain of the balancing act I'm performing. The way I'm constantly gauging who I'm with—Anna or Mads—and how to react in response.
"I just want you to be happy," I say, and mean it. "Both of you."
Her fingers trace along my jaw. "I know. But it's okay to admit it's hard sometimes. I know this hasn't been easy on you, and—"
I capture her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm to cut her off. "I've never been afraid of hard work."
The truth might be a little more complicated. I used to be stoic. Emotionless, I thought, apart from my sadism.
But now, long after I thought I knew who I was, color has suddenly returned, and some days I walk around feeling like I'm made of glass, every step a risk of shattering.
It's an uncomfortable sensation for a man like me.
When I'm with Anna, who's so joyful, I feel a love so full it's like a balloon filling my chest till I'm sure I'll burst. But then Mads—wild, reckless, demanding Mads—reminds me I don't have to deny my darkness, either.
Which I'm not sure I ever could, no matter how much I might long to bask in the sunshine forever. There's always still a storm inside me.
Which is why I love them both. Need them both.
Maybe that makes me selfish. Maybe it makes me greedy. But the thought of choosing—of ever having to pick one over the other—feels like slowly driving a knife into my own chest.
"You're thinking too hard," Anna whispers, bringing me back to the present. She taps my forehead gently. "I can practically hear the gears turning."
I force a smile. "Just making mental notes for tonight. I should mingle with the board members and show my face in the right places."
Anna laughs, the sound light and melodic. "Always the businessman. Even at a Christmas party. Maybe try to enjoy yourself a little, too?"
I shrug, leaning down to kiss her again, lingering this time. She lingers with me. When I pull back, her cheeks are flushed.
"Let's not be too late," I murmur against her lips.
She smiles, a hint of shyness in her eyes. "Whatever you say, Mr. Callaghan."
The car ride downtown is peaceful. Anna chatters about final arrangements for the gala, checking her phone occasionally for updates from the committee.
"Oh!" Anna exclaims suddenly, scrolling through her phone. "They've added the ice sculpture I suggested—a winter wonderland scene. I wasn't sure they'd do it."
I smile wide, cheeks hurting at how adorable she is. "Of course they did. Who could say no to you?"
She blushes, tucking her phone away. "You're biased."
"Guilty as charged."
She takes my hand, lacing our fingers together as she gazes out the window at the Dallas skyline, buildings adorned with Christmas lights glittering against the night sky.
"Remember our first Christmas together?" she asks quietly. "After I came back from Chicago?"
I nod, the memory bittersweet. "You insisted on making Christmas cookies, even though neither of us knew what we were doing."
She laughs. "They were terrible! Burnt on the edges and raw in the middle."
"We just picked off the burnt part and they were perfect. Who says no to warm cookie dough? Besides, remember?" I squeeze her hand. "You said they had character."
Her smile softens, turning wistful. "I was just so happy to be home with you." She pauses, her voice dropping. "Sometimes I still can't believe this is real—that we found our way back to each other after everything."
The weight of our years apart settles between us—the searching, the pain, the obstacles. The Librarian, Anna's father. The master manipulator who nearly destroyed us both.
But we're here now. Against all odds.
"I'd find you anywhere," I tell her, letting the truth of that statement sink in. "In any lifetime. There's no version of me that doesn't belong to you."
Her eyes glisten, but she blinks back tears, careful not to ruin her makeup. "We're going to be disgustingly happy, aren't we? For the rest of our lives?"
"That's the plan, love."
The car slows, pulling up to the grand entrance of the Rosemont Hotel. Through the window, I can see the red carpet, the doormen in their crisp uniforms, the Christmas decorations glittering in the light.
"Ready?" I ask.
But Anna pulls back. "Oh, I need to be dropped off around back so I can coordinate with Jessica and deal with some last-minute catering details."
I laugh gently. "Well, I'm sure you can do that once we're inside." But she's still shaking her head and pulling deeper into the limo away from me, eyes on the flashing bulbs.
Immediately, I sense fear from her. "Hey." I put a hand on her knee. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"
Her eyes come back to me, and she shakes her head with a ready smile, laughing at herself. "I think I'll just feel a little less overwhelmed going in the back. Is that okay?" She squeezes my hand. "But go, go. Everyone's waiting to capture your picture, Mr. Handsome and Important."
I stay, eyes furrowed for another moment until I assure myself it is just her nerves about the gala.
"Text me when you're inside so I can find you."
"All right." She leans forward and kisses me.
I linger in the kiss until she pulls back and smacks me on the shoulder. "Go!"
"Fine."
I breathe in one more long sight of the gorgeous woman I want to be my wife sooner rather than later, then head out onto the red carpet and explosions of flashbulbs.