12. Dominic
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Dominic
I wake to the smell of coffee and the sound of Sophie’s voice in the other room.
For a moment, I just lie there, letting myself feel it. The warmth in my chest. The looseness in my muscles. The unfamiliar sensation of waking up next to someone - of wanting to wake up next to someone.
I’m in deep trouble.
Last night was… I don’t have words for last night. Every time I try to process it, my brain shorts out and I’m back in that moment, Sophie’s voice in my ear, her body under mine, her eyes on me like I was the only thing in the world.
Mine, I said. You’re mine now.
I meant it. That’s the terrifying part. I meant every word.
She’s my brother’s ex-wife. She doesn’t know who I really am. There are a hundred reasons this is a terrible idea, and I ignored all of them because she looked at me like I mattered.
Because she matters.
Because somewhere between the organic diapers and the threats to break hands and the way she fights for her daughter with everything she has, I fell for her. Hard. Completely. Irrevocably.
And I’m still lying to her.
I drag myself out of bed and pull on clothes, trying to sort through the mess in my head.
I told her about Celia last night. Told her how I know Caleb.
It’s not the whole truth - I didn’t mention that Caleb is my brother, that our parents disowned me for defending Celia, that my entire identity is a carefully constructed lie - but it’s closer than I’ve gotten with anyone in years.
Maybe that’s enough. Maybe it has to be enough, at least until Caleb’s no longer a threat.
Or maybe I’m just a coward making excuses.
I find Sophie in the kitchen, Anna on her hip, coffee brewing on the counter. She’s wearing one of my shirts - must have grabbed it this morning - and her hair is a tangled mess, and she’s never looked more beautiful.
“Morning,” she says, and her smile does something to my chest.
“Morning.” I lean against the doorframe, watching her. “Sleep okay?”
“Better than I have in weeks, actually.” She sets Anna in the high chair I bought yesterday and hands her a toy. “Someone wore me out.”
“Guilty.”
“Also, your bed is obscenely comfortable.” She pours two cups of coffee, hands me one. “What’s the thread count on those sheets? A million?”
“I don’t know. I just told them I wanted the best.”
“Spoken like someone who’s never had to compare prices on bedding.” But she’s smiling when she says it, teasing rather than accusing.
I take a sip of my coffee and try to figure out how to tell her that I could buy every sheet set in every store in the city without making a dent in my bank account. But she has enough to process right now. My net worth can wait.
“So what’s the plan for today?” I ask instead.
“I need to find a lawyer.” Sophie’s expression sobers. “Get the divorce started, figure out custody arrangements. I can’t keep running from him forever.”
“I might know someone.”
“Someone who handles divorces from narcissistic surgeons?”
“Someone who handles difficult situations discreetly.” I pull out my phone, scroll through my contacts. “He’s expensive, but he’s the best. I’ll cover the retainer.”
“Dominic, I can’t let you-”
“You can pay me back.” I meet her eyes. “When you’re on your feet. When all this is over. But right now, you need the best, and the best isn’t cheap.”
She’s quiet for a moment. I can see the war in her - pride versus practicality, independence versus necessity.
“Fine,” she says finally. “But I’m paying you back. Every cent.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.” I cross to her, cup her face in my hands, kiss her softly. “That’s one of the things I like about you.”
“Just one?”
“There’s a list.” I kiss her again. “A very long list.”
Anna makes a demanding sound, and we both look over to find her watching us with an expression of clear disapproval.
“I think someone’s jealous,” Sophie says.
“She’ll have to share.” But I release Sophie and move to the high chair, crouching down to Anna’s level. “Good morning, troublemaker.”
Anna grabs my finger and shoves it in her mouth.
“Charming,” I say.
“She does that when she likes someone.” Sophie’s watching us with soft eyes. “She doesn’t like many people.”
“She has good taste.”
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
We settle into a rhythm - Sophie feeding Anna breakfast, me making more coffee, both of us moving around each other in the small kitchen like we’ve been doing this for years instead of hours. It’s domestic and comfortable and everything I never knew I wanted.
It’s also temporary.
I can’t forget that. Can’t let myself get too comfortable. Caleb is still out there. Still planning. Still waiting for his moment to strike.
And when he does, I need to be ready.
***
The day passes in a blur of phone calls and paperwork.
My lawyer friend agrees to take Sophie’s case, and they spend two hours on the phone going over strategy.
I stay close but give them space, splitting my attention between work emails and watching Sophie’s face as she navigates the first steps of her legal battle.
She’s remarkable. Despite everything - the fear, the exhaustion, the overwhelming complexity of divorcing a wealthy surgeon with connections - she’s holding it together. Taking notes. Asking sharp questions. Refusing to be intimidated.
I fall a little more with each passing hour.
By evening, Anna’s fussy and Sophie’s drained, and we order Chinese food and eat it on the couch while some mindless reality show plays in the background. It’s normal. Ordinary. The kind of evening millions of people have every night without realizing how precious it is.
I’ve never had this.
Growing up, dinners were formal affairs at the family table, my parents discussing business while Caleb charmed them and I sat silent, invisible.
After I left - after I was thrown out - I built a life that didn’t require anyone else.
Made my money. Changed my name. Convinced myself that solitude was strength.
Sophie is making me question everything I thought I knew.
“You’re staring again,” she says without looking up from her lo mein.
“I like looking at you.”
“Creep.”
“Your creep.”
She glances at me, and something vulnerable flickers in her eyes. “Is that what this is? Am I yours now?”
“Do you want to be?”
It’s a real question. Not a line, not a seduction technique, but a genuine inquiry about what she wants. What we’re doing. What this thing between us actually is.
Sophie sets down her chopsticks. “I want…” She takes a breath. “I want to believe that this is real. That you’re real. That I’m not just running from one mistake into another.”
“You’re not.”
“How do I know that?”
“Because I’m not Caleb.” I turn to face her fully. “I’m not going to hurt you, Sophie. I’m not going to manipulate you or control you or make you feel small. I’m just going to be here. For as long as you’ll let me.”
“That’s a big promise.”
“I told you. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
She considers me for a long moment. Whatever she sees in my face must satisfy her, because some of the tension leaves her shoulders.
“Okay,” she says.
“Okay?”
“Okay, I’m yours.” She picks up her chopsticks again, but she’s smiling now. “Just… don’t make me regret it.”
“Never.”
And I mean it. Despite the lies, despite the secrets, despite everything I’m still hiding - I mean it.
I just have to make sure she never finds out the truth.
At least, not until she’s ready to hear it.