5. Dominic
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Dominic
“Let me get this straight.” Max sets down his beer and stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Your brother’s wife moved into your building.”
“Ex-wife. Soon-to-be.”
“Your brother’s ex-wife. Who you saved from your brother. Who doesn’t know you’re your brother’s brother.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds complicated.”
“It is complicated, you absolute lunatic.” Max runs a hand through his hair, and I watch him struggle to process what I’ve just told him. “How does she not know? You have the same last name. The same - did you not tell her your last name?”
“I told her my name is Dominic Rath.”
“Your fake name.”
“My legal name.” I take a drink of my beer. “I changed it, remember? After the whole getting-disowned-for-telling-the-truth thing.”
Max shakes his head slowly. “And Caleb didn’t recognize you?”
“He never paid much attention to me.” The bitterness in my voice is old, worn smooth by years of acceptance. “The golden boy had better things to do than notice his younger brother.”
“Golden boy.” Max snorts. “More like psychopath in a nice suit.”
“That too.”
We sit in silence for a moment, nursing our drinks. The bar is crowded - it’s a Thursday night, and apparently everyone in Manhattan has decided they need alcohol to get through the week - but I’ve tuned out the noise. I can’t stop thinking about this morning.
About Sophie.
The way she looked when she opened the door. Exhausted, rumpled, beautiful in a way she clearly didn’t realize. The bruise on her arm, purple and angry against her pale skin. The fear in her eyes that she tried so hard to hide.
The way she felt when I caught her last night, before she could hit the floor. Small and shaking and so damn fragile it made something in my chest crack open.
I’ve been trying to ignore it. The pull. The way my attention keeps drifting to her, cataloging details I have no business noticing. The green of her eyes. The way she bites her lip when she’s thinking. The curve of her waist where my hands landed when I steadied her.
She’s my brother’s wife.
Ex-wife, a voice whispers. Soon-to-be.
It doesn’t matter. She’s off-limits. She’s a victim of my family’s cruelty, and the last thing she needs is another Brennan complicating her life.
“So what’s the plan?” Max asks, pulling me out of my spiral. “Are you going to tell her who you are?”
“No.”
“No?”
“If I tell her I’m Caleb’s brother, she’ll think I’m part of it. Part of him.” I grip my glass harder. “She’ll never trust me again.”
“And you want her to trust you because…?”
“Because I need to protect her.” The words come out rough, too honest. “Caleb’s not going to give up. He’ll come after her again. Come after the baby. And I can’t-” I stop, take a breath. “I can’t let him do to her what he did to Celia.”
Max’s expression shifts. The teasing disappears, replaced by something more serious. “Dom. What happened to Celia wasn’t your fault.”
“I could have stopped it sooner.”
“You were nineteen. You didn’t know-”
“I knew enough.” I drain the rest of my beer and signal for another. “I knew something was wrong. I saw the bruises. I heard the crying. And I didn’t do anything until it was almost too late.”
“But you did do something. You got her out. You saved her.”
“I saved her after he’d already broken her.
” The memory rises up, unwanted - Celia’s face, swollen and tear-streaked, as I helped her pack a bag in the middle of the night.
The way she flinched when I reached for her.
The empty look in her eyes, like all the light had been beaten out of her.
“She was my friend. And I let my brother destroy her because I was too afraid to speak up.”
Max is quiet for a long moment. Then he leans forward, elbows on the bar. “So this is what? Redemption?”
“This is making sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“And the fact that she’s beautiful has nothing to do with it.”
I tense. “What?”
“Please.” Max rolls his eyes. “I’ve known you for ten years, Dom. I’ve never seen you get this worked up about anyone. You went grocery shopping. You bought organic diapers. You, a man who considers ramen a food group, bought organic diapers.”
“Anna needed them.”
“Anna.” He says the name like it’s significant. “You’re already calling the baby by her first name.”
“That’s her name.”
“You’re already protective of them.” Max’s voice softens. “Both of them. Admit it.”
I don’t answer. I don’t know how to.
Because he’s right. Somewhere between catching Sophie as she fell and watching her sleeping daughter curl her fist around my finger, something shifted. Something I’ve spent years keeping locked away.
I don’t do attachment. I don’t do feelings. I built my company, made my fortune, and kept everyone at arm’s length because that’s safer. Because the last time I trusted family, they threw me out for telling the truth. Because the last time I cared about someone, she got hurt.
But Sophie…
Sophie makes me want to break all my rules.
“I won’t let her have the same fate as Celia,” I say finally, and the words feel like a vow. “Whatever that takes.”
Max studies me for a long moment. Then he nods, raises his fresh beer, and clinks it against mine.
“Then I’ve got your back. Just… be careful, yeah? Secrets have a way of blowing up in your face.”
“I know.”
“And maybe try not to fall in love with her while you’re at it.”
I don’t answer that either.
Because I’m starting to worry it might already be too late.