Chapter 176
Dominic POV
I don’t understand Ellie.
That is the simplest explanation.
I don’t understand why she refuses to look at seating charts but can memorize medical textbooks as if her life depends on it.
I don’t understand why she flinches when I move too close some days…
Then leans into me on others like she forgot she was supposed to hate me.
I don’t understand why every step toward her feels like approaching something wild.
Something that might run.
Or bite.
Depending on the hour.
Every time I give her space, she looks at me like I don’t care.
Every time I step in, she looks at me like I’ve taken something from her.
It’s exhausting.
But I don’t quit things.
Especially not things that matter.
A sudden noise comes from inside the dressing room.
A sharp rustle.
Then Ellie’s voice.
Loud.
Angry.
“Are you kidding me?!”
My entire body goes still.
“Stop. GET OFF ME!”
The sound cuts through the door, and every instinct in me reacts instantly.
Something is wrong.
Before I can even move, Vivian steps forward.
“Oh!”
Her hand flies to her chest.
“Is she alright? Ellie? Ellie, are you okay?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer.
Before I can stop her—
Before I can even say her name—
She grabs the handle and opens the door.
Completely.
Without warning.
And everything freezes.
Ellie stands in the center of the room.
Two maids hover nearby, looking completely overwhelmed.
The skirt of the dress is already fitted.
White lace spills around her feet.
Beautiful.
Delicate.
Almost unreal.
The bodice, however, is not finished.
Her shoulders are bare.
Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest as she struggles with the fabric.
Her hair is slightly messy from fighting with the dress.
Then she turns.
Sees the open door.
Sees Vivian.
Sees me.
Her eyes widen.
I immediately look away.
A sharp breath leaves me as I drag a hand down my face.
“Close the door,” I say flatly.
Ellie makes a strangled noise and quickly grabs the bodice tighter.
“Are you insane?”
Her eyes snap toward Vivian.
“You absolute snake—”
Vivian recoils.
“I thought you were hurt!”
“I was fighting a zipper!”
Ellie’s voice rises.
“Not dying!”
She points toward the door.
“Get. Out.”
The seamstress looks like she might actually faint.
She rushes forward, hands shaking as she helps Ellie secure the dress.
I keep my eyes firmly away.
“Do you knock?” Ellie demands.
Her anger is sharp.
“Ever?”
A pause.
“Or is basic decency just not part of your personality?”
Vivian’s voice softens.
“I was worried.”
She sounds wounded.
“I didn’t know what was happening. I was trying to help.”
“Help?”
Ellie’s laugh is disbelieving.
“By flashing me in front of him?”
I assume she gestures toward me.
“He’s not even supposed to see the dress yet!”
“He wasn’t looking,” Vivian says quickly.
“He was!”
Ellie’s voice cracks.
“We made eye contact!”
“Enough.”
I step in before this becomes something worse.
“Both of you.”
Ellie turns toward me immediately.
Her eyes burn.
“Oh, now you’re stepping in.”
“Yes,” I reply evenly.
“Because this is about to become unnecessary.”
“It already has!”
She points toward the door.
“She did that on purpose!”
Her voice shakes.
“Gods!”
A pause.
“You always take her side!”
The words hit differently.
Because it isn’t the anger I hear.
It’s the hurt underneath.
The thing she tries so hard to hide.
I look only at Ellie.
“Everyone out.”
Vivian hesitates.
“Dominic, I was only—”
“Out.”
Something in my tone makes her stop.
She leaves.
The seamstress follows quickly.
The maids disappear after her.
The door closes.
Softly.
Silence fills the room.
Ellie stands there.
Half-dressed.
Holding the bodice against herself like armor.
The skirt pools around her feet.
Lace.
Light.
And fury.
All wrapped into one person.
She looks cornered.
Like she’s ready to attack anything that gets too close.
“You weren’t supposed to see it,” she says finally.
Her voice is quieter now.
“Not like this.”
“I didn’t.”
My voice lowers.
“I looked away.”
A bitter laugh escapes her.
“How honorable.”
Her eyes lift.
And despite herself, they shine.
Tears threatening.
“Gods, you’re such a liar.”
She swallows.
“You’re looking right now.”
And she’s right.
I am.
Because I’m not looking at the dress.
Not really.
I’m looking at her.
At the woman who keeps pretending she doesn’t care.
The woman who keeps pretending this means nothing.
The woman standing in front of me looks more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen her.
And somehow…
That frightens me more than any enemy ever has.