8. Dominic
Dominic
I t’s way past midnight when I get back to the apartment. I step in quietly, careful not to make a sound. I’ve spent the last few hours at the club, like most nights. That’s my usual world.
But tonight, I left the apartment just to give Lena some space. To let her breathe a little after the avalanche of news that turned her world upside down. Before I left, I made sure she had something to eat—sent up a sandwich and some fruit. I felt like the least I could do for her comfort.
I’ve been holding back from texting her all night. I wanted to, just to check in, see how she’s doing.
But I didn’t. I didn’t want to crowd her.
Still, the thought won’t leave me alone.
No matter how sarcastic she is, she’s got to be overwhelmed.
She’s probably still trying to figure out what it means to live with a Monti.
To share a place with a well-known billionaire.
To step into a life that’s constantly in the spotlight.
A guy women chase. A guy everyone watches.
And with that comes the attention, the image, and yeah, a whole pile of bullshit expectations that come with the territory.
There’s something in the way she challenges me, how she hides behind sarcasm like it’s armor, that pulls me in.
But last night, when I caught that lost look in her eyes and the hesitation in her voice, I didn’t feel like pushing back.
I just wanted to hold her. To anchor her.
To pull the fear out of her, piece by piece.
That vulnerability, bare and unguarded, slipped past every wall I’d put up.
And before I knew it, I wanted to stay there. Just a little longer.
Lena gets under my skin. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t yield, and somehow that defiance pulls me in deeper.
She makes me want her in ways I’ve never let myself want anyone.
Last night... it changed things. It wasn’t just desire, it was need.
A raw instinct to stay close, even if I couldn’t fix a damn thing.
To be the one still standing when the fear crept in and everything threatened to break.
For the first time in years, I didn’t need anything from her. I just wanted to be the place she could fall apart. It’s a weird feeling, knowing someone else is sleeping in my apartment when I come home. I wish she were in my bed. But we’re not there yet.
Our rooms are on opposite sides of the massive living area.
Still, I find myself drifting toward hers.
As I get closer, I hear soft music, something faint, like a toy or a music box.
I stop and stare at the door in the dark, trying to piece together what she might be doing in there from the faint sounds slipping through.
Why isn’t she sleeping? Maybe she just needs more time to unwind after the day she’s had. I tell myself not to overthink it. To let her be. But I stay there, listening.
The music is delicate, almost childlike. It seeps softly through the wood, like the memory of a lullaby. I close my eyes, trying to picture her on the other side. Still awake. Still carrying the weight of today.
Let it go, Monti. Don’t overstep. Go to bed.
Then the music stops. And in that silence, I hear it, barely there at first. A quiet sob. Then another. Muffled crying, raw and uncontrolled.
My hand goes up to knock, but I freeze mid-air. Why would she want me? What if I make it worse? But the sound keeps coming. She’s in pain. Alone. And the truth is, I can’t stand it.
I hesitate for one last second. Then I knock softly. “Lena... can I come in?”
“What do you want?” she says.
I open the door and step inside. She’s sitting up against the pillows, holding something small in her hands.
A box, maybe. She covers it quickly when she sees me.
The room is dim, lit only by the faint glow spilling in through the window.
But even in the low light, I catch the shimmer in her eyes when she looks at me. Probably from tears.
“I didn’t say you could come in.”
“You didn’t say ‘go away’ either.”
“Oh, Monti. Not the time to play smartass.”
“And it’s not the time for you to pretend you’re fine if you’re not. We haven’t signed our contract yet, but we can definitely add a clause where I offer my shoulder, free of charge, whenever you need it.”
She sniffles but doesn’t say anything.
“Was that almost a smile?”
A pause. Then her voice, soft and uneven: “It’s dark. You can’t see anything. You’re bluffing.”
“And is it working?”
Another sniffle. And this time, when she speaks, her voice is a little warmer. “Maybe. But what are you doing up this late? Is this your usual routine?”
I take it as an invitation to sit and walk over to the bed. “I just got back from the club. And yeah, this is pretty standard for weekends. Sometimes weekdays, too.”
I slip off my jacket and shoes, then sit on the edge of the bed. To my relief, Lena doesn’t push me away. She shifts slightly, making room. I ease back onto the pillows beside her, close enough to feel the warmth between us.
With one hand, I brush a loose strand of hair from her forehead, letting my fingers linger for a second. Then, I rest my hand gently on her back, tracing slow circles. I can feel her breathing start to slow.
She doesn’t speak at first. Then, quietly, she starts to open up. “It’s just a small breakdown,” Lena says. “I thought I was alone. I figured you were either asleep or out.”
“I’m here,” I whisper, trying to reassure her. “Is it really that bad? Moving in with me? What can I do to make it easier?”
“Please. You’re not that important, Monti.”
I let out a breath, relieved. “Did I hear a hint of sarcasm? That’s a good sign. You’re starting to sound like you again.”
She turns to face me. Her eyes are still glistening, catching the dim light and shadows playing across the room.
“I didn’t think I’d have to leave my place so suddenly. And this…” She shifts the object in her hands just a little. “…was from my grandma.”
“It’s a music box?” I nod toward the thing she’s holding.
Lena opens it slowly. A ballerina spins, turning to the sound of soft, delicate notes.
“Yes. My grandmother kept it for years. She only ever said it was a gift from someone who’d passed away. I always believed there was a love story behind it.”
She pauses, her thumb brushing the edge of the box. “I left the rest of her things in the house when I moved out. I used to love living among them. There were so many pieces of art. She had a thing for surrounding herself with beauty.”
A breath. Then, softer: “I miss her so much. Lately, more than ever.”
“She was a great woman. So I’ve heard.”
Lena blinks and looks over. “You’ve heard of my grandmother?”
“Of course. She’s a legend in this town. Grace Medina, a world-class ballerina, famous everywhere. Still the pride of the city, even after all these years."
I pause, then add softly, “I’m sorry you lost her. Were you two close?”
“Very.”
Lena nods, her voice quiet. “I used to spend every summer with her. Almost all my childhood vacations were here. Her house is near the beach. I love the sea. I couldn’t live anywhere else.”
She sighs, and I squeeze her shoulder gently.
“I moved in with her when I first started university here. But later, I had to transfer to a different one, in another city. I was gone for almost three years, and just came home during breaks. And when I finally came back, with my degree and ready to look for a job, she welcomed me back without hesitation.”
Lena’s voice softens. But there’s a tightness in it now, a strain, like she’s holding something in. Still, she keeps talking.
“Her energy wasn’t the same anymore. I could tell she was weaker.
But she still had that spark in her, that joy for life.
She never told me she was sick. I lost her just a few months after I came back.
I’ve never forgiven myself for leaving. But she kept it from me on purpose, so I wouldn’t give up everything to come back. ”
“Why didn’t you stay here for university?”
“Complications. I wanted a fresh start. I didn’t know what I was giving up, those years with my extraordinary grandmother.”
Her voice catches on the last words. I sit up and wrap my arms around her. She rests her head on my shoulder, and I kiss the top of her hair. We stay like that for a while. Her sobs begin to settle.
“I know I need to move forward,” she says quietly.
“And I understand that every phase in life comes with sacrifices. I just didn’t expect it all to happen so fast. It feels like I barely had time to process anything. Like I was pulled out of my life overnight... and left everything behind.”
“Are you sure they didn’t take anything else from the house? Just the laptop?”
“They went through my papers, my drawers... but no, nothing else.”
“Did you have something important on it?”
She shifts to face me, pulling slightly out of the hug, but I can tell there’s a new spark in her voice.
“They probably thought I did. But I know how to protect my work. Even if they got the laptop, all my files were encrypted with a key only I know. I don’t store sensitive data directly on the laptop.
My backups are in the cloud with two-factor authentication, isolated access.
Even if they guess the password, without the decryption key, it’s useless.
Plus, the hard drive wipes itself after too many failed login attempts.
So, yeah, they didn’t steal my work. They just walked off with a brick. ”
“Wow! Where’d you learn to do all that?”
Lena gives me a sly smile. “Let’s just say I have a very smart friend. A bit of a tech geek, the kind of guy who knows where to look when others don’t even know there’s something to find. He taught me never to leave the door open for unwanted visitors.”
“Well, you’ve got another friend who ordered you a new laptop. It’ll be delivered tomorrow.”
She shoots me a look, half-curious, half-suspicious. “How did you pull that off this late?”