10. Dominic
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Dominic
I know something’s wrong the moment we reach Sophie’s floor.
The door to Alexa’s apartment is slightly ajar. Not wide open, but not closed either - just cracked, like someone left in a hurry. Or like someone forced their way in.
“Stay behind me,” I tell Sophie, and I don’t wait for her to argue before I’m moving.
The apartment is empty when we enter, but the emptiness feels wrong. Violated. There are signs of disturbance everywhere - a lamp knocked over, a chair pushed out of place, papers scattered across the floor.
Someone was here.
“What the hell?” Sophie’s voice is tight with fear. “Alexa’s supposed to be at work. She’s not - she wouldn’t have-”
“Check the rooms,” I say, already moving toward the kitchen. “See if anything’s missing.”
While she searches, I examine the door more closely. The lock’s been tampered with - scratch marks around the keyhole, the telltale signs of someone using picks or a bypass tool. Professional work, not a smash-and-grab.
Caleb.
He’s not stupid enough to do this himself, but he has money. He could hire someone. Have them break in while Sophie was out, plant surveillance, search for information he could use against her.
Or worse - prepare the way for something else entirely.
“Dominic.”
Sophie’s voice is shaking. I find her in the nursery, standing in front of Anna’s temporary crib, her face pale.
“What is it?”
She points at the crib without speaking.
There’s a stuffed elephant inside - the one Anna was chewing on when I first saw her. It’s been moved, repositioned so it’s sitting upright against the bars.
With a note tucked into its trunk.
Soon.
That’s all it says. One word in neat, precise handwriting that I recognize immediately.
Caleb.
My brother was here. In this apartment. In the room where Anna sleeps.
Red floods my vision. My hands clench into fists so tight my knuckles crack. The rage is immediate and overwhelming, a wave of fury that threatens to drown out everything else.
He touched my-
He touched Anna’s crib. Left a threat. Made it clear that he can reach them whenever he wants.
“She’s not safe here,” I hear myself say, and my voice sounds strange. Distant. Like it’s coming from somewhere outside my body. “You’re not safe here. Either of you.”
“Where else can I go?” Sophie’s clutching Anna to her chest, her whole body trembling. “I don’t have anywhere else. I don’t have money for a hotel, I can’t go back to his house, I-”
“Move in with me.”
The words are out before I can stop them.
Sophie stares at me. “What?”
“My apartment. Downstairs.” I’m already doing the math in my head - security upgrades I can install, vantage points I can monitor, ways to make it harder for Caleb to get close. “It’s got better locks. Reinforced door. I can keep you safe there.”
“Dominic, I can’t just-”
“You can.” I step toward her, and she doesn’t step back. “Sophie, listen to me. Your ex-husband just broke into this apartment. He left a note in your daughter’s crib. He’s escalating, which means you need to escalate too.”
“By moving in with a man I barely know?”
“By accepting help when it’s offered.” I reach out, curl my hand around her arm - gently, so gently, nothing like the bruising grip Caleb left. “I know this is fast. I know we’re practically strangers. But I promise you - I swear to you - I won’t let anyone hurt you. Either of you.”
Her eyes search my face. I don’t know what she’s looking for, but I hold still and let her look. Let her see whatever she needs to see.
“Why?” she whispers. “Why do you care so much?”
Because you’re my brother’s wife. Because I failed someone else once. Because every time I look at you, I see a second chance I don’t deserve.
“Because it’s the right thing to do,” I say instead. “And because…” I hesitate, the words catching in my throat. “Because you deserve someone who shows up. Someone who fights for you. Someone who doesn’t see you as property or a prize to be won.”
“And that’s you?”
“I want it to be.”
The admission hangs between us, raw and honest and terrifying. I’ve never said anything like that to anyone. Never let myself be this vulnerable.
But Sophie makes me want to try.
She watches me for a long moment. Anna fusses against her chest, and Sophie soothes her absently, never looking away from my face.
“Okay,” she says finally.
“Okay?”
“I’ll move in with you.” She takes a shaky breath. “But I have conditions.”
“Name them.”
“I pay my share. As soon as I find a better job, I start contributing. I’m not going to be a charity case.”
“Done.”
“And you tell me the truth.” Her eyes narrow. “About everything. I’ve had enough lies to last a lifetime, Dominic. If there’s something I need to know - anything - you tell me. Promise.”
My stomach clenches. The truth. She wants the truth.
I’m your ex-husband’s brother. I changed my name after my parents disowned me for defending his previous victim. I’ve been watching over you since you moved into this building, and I’m not sure anymore if it’s protection or obsession.
But I can’t tell her that. Not yet. Not when Caleb might be listening, might use it against us, might twist it into something ugly.
“I promise,” I say, and the lie tastes like ash on my tongue. “No secrets.”
Sophie nods, and something in her expression softens. “Then let’s do this. Let’s move.”
We pack quickly - Sophie’s already good at it, having done it twice in the past week.
While she gathers clothes and baby supplies, I check every corner of the apartment for bugs or cameras.
I find one in the living room, hidden behind a picture frame.
I crush it under my heel. One less thing Caleb can use against her.
By the time Alexa gets home, we’re already done. Sophie explains the break-in, the note, the plan. Alexa looks between us with sharp, knowing eyes, but she doesn’t argue.
“Be careful,” she tells Sophie, hugging her tight. “Both of you. And call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Then we’re in the elevator, Sophie holding Anna, me holding their suitcases, and the doors are closing on one chapter and opening on another.
My apartment is bigger than Alexa’s - two bedrooms, modern kitchen, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the street below. I’ve kept it sparse and functional, more office than home, but Sophie looks around with wide eyes like she’s seeing something different.
“This is nice,” she says. “Really nice. What did you say you do for work?”
“Investments.” It’s not a lie, technically. I do invest. In my own company, mostly, but still. “Work from home. Flexible hours.”
“Must be nice.”
“It has its moments.”
I show her to the guest room, help her set up Anna’s portable crib, try not to think about how right this feels. Having her here. Having them both here. In my space, under my protection, where I can keep them safe.
It’s temporary, I remind myself. Just until the danger passes. Just until Caleb backs off or gets arrested or finally shows his true colors to someone who can do something about it.
But when Sophie emerges from the bedroom after putting Anna down, looking tired and grateful and unbearably beautiful in the soft light of my living room, temporary feels very far away.
“I should unpack,” she says, but she doesn’t move toward the bedroom. She just stands there, looking at me.
“You should rest,” I counter. “It’s been a long day.”
“I don’t think I can sleep.” She wraps her arms around herself. “Each time I close my eyes, I see that note. Soon. What does that even mean? What is he planning?”
“I don’t know.” I close the distance between us, stopping just short of touching her. “But whatever it is, we’ll be ready. He’s not going to get to you or Anna. I promise.”
“You keep making promises.” Her voice is soft. “How do you know you can keep them?”
“Because I don’t make them lightly.”
She looks up at me, and her eyes are bright with unshed tears. “I’m scared, Dominic. I don’t want to be, but I am. He’s everywhere. He’s in my head, in my apartment, leaving notes in my daughter’s crib. How do I fight someone like that?”
“You don’t fight alone.”
I reach out, brush a strand of hair back from her face. She shivers at the contact but doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t look away.
“You’re not alone anymore,” I tell her. “Whatever happens, however bad it gets - you’re not alone. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Why?” The word is barely a whisper. “Why do you keep helping me?”
Because I failed someone else once.
Because my brother is a monster and I owe the universe a debt I’ll never finish paying.
Because somewhere between the grocery bags and the baby calming and the foam on her lip, I started falling for you, and I have no idea how to stop.
“Because you deserve it,” I say. “Because someone should. Because-”
I don’t finish the sentence.
I don’t finish because Sophie has risen on her toes and pressed her lips to mine.
It’s barely a kiss - just a brush, a whisper of contact, her mouth soft and warm against mine for one heartbeat, two, before she pulls back with wide eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she says, stepping backward. “I don’t know why I - I shouldn’t have-”
I close the distance between us and kiss her back.
Not gently. Not carefully. I kiss her like I’ve been starving for her, like she’s the only thing keeping me breathing, like every wall I’ve built over the past fifteen years is crumbling around us and I don’t care.
She gasps against my mouth, and I swallow the sound. My hands find her waist, pulling her closer, and she comes willingly, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt like she needs something to hold onto.
“Dominic-” she breathes between kisses.
“Tell me to stop.” My mouth moves to her jaw, her neck, the soft skin behind her ear. “Tell me this is too fast, too soon, too complicated, and I’ll stop. I swear I’ll stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
The words send a bolt of heat through me. I pull back just enough to look at her, to make sure she means it, to give her one more chance to change her mind.
Her eyes are dark. Her lips are swollen. Her chest is heaving.
“I know it’s fast,” she says, and her voice is shaking. “I know I should be sensible and careful and all the things I’m supposed to be. But when I’m with you, I don’t want to be sensible. I just want-”
“What?” I cup her face in my hands. “What do you want?”
“You.” The word is barely audible. “I want you.”
I’m lost.