Chapter Nineteen
Dominic
I wake up with Sophaya in my arms. It’s our last morning in St. Lucia. The week went by way too quickly, but it’s been one of the best of my life.
After our night on the catamaran, most of my reserve fell away. Every moment has been brighter, more satisfying. Sharing my past also seemed to unleash Sophie, too. She’s been uninhibited, happy. She hugs me, kisses me, grabs my hand spontaneously.
I pull her in tighter to my chest. I’m determined for us not to lose whatever it is we’ve discovered here.
My phone rings. I scowl, drop a quick kiss on her shoulder, then roll over to silence it. I frown when I see Todd’s name on the screen. I answer.
“Hello?” I say quietly.
“Dom.”
I sit up. Something’s wrong. I can hear it in his voice.
“Talk to me.”
“A story went live today, published by Wilford Smythe.”
My grip on the phone tightens. “And?”
“He’s claiming the only reason you and Sophaya got married is because she’s pregnant.”
Furious, I ease out of bed, gently open the sliding glass door and step out onto the deck. The sun is slowly starting to come up, making the sea glow. But the view is lost on me.
“What did it say?”
“He claims that after that photo was published of you and Sophaya in Venice, there’s no evidence of any contact between the two of you until seven weeks later.
Somehow, he got hold of the flight manifest that shows Sophaya traveled to New York, and that two days later you joined her in Siravelle.
The engagement was announced shortly after, followed by a rushed wedding. ”
I stare out at the point where the sky meets the sea. There are potential negative implications for the palace, of course, and for Hawke Security.
I glance back over my shoulder through the doors at Sophaya, who’s still sleeping peacefully. In this moment, I don’t care about any of it. Just her.
“There’s more.”
Slowly, I turn back to the ocean. “Tell me.”
“Wilford dug into your past.”
“So? It’s not a secret what I did to survive.”
“It’s not that.” Todd sighs. “He wrote about your childhood. Your time in foster care, your grandmother, your father dying in prison.”
The walls start to close in. I can feel them pressing on me, retreat inside myself as I steel for whatever Todd is going to say next. “I see.”
“Dominic…he found your mom. She’s alive.”
A dull roaring builds in my ears, rivals the noise of the ocean.
“Alive,” I repeat.
“Yes. Married for twenty-nine years. Has two kids.”
After my caseworker told me my dad had been killed, I decided I would never seek my mom out. I didn’t want to know if she was dead or alive. A twisted, selfish part of me hoped she was dead because then there would at least be a reason as to why she didn’t come back for me.
And I was right. The sudden white-hot pain of knowing she’s not only alive but living with a different family, that she raised two kids while she pawned me off on her own mother, is rooted in the kind of devastation I’ve spent decades trying to avoid.
A devastation that even now is crawling through me, wiping away all emotion.
“I’m sorry, man, I—”
“I’ll call you later.”
I hang up, stare out over the sea. Whatever happiness I found here is gone. Vanished in the blink of an eye.
My mother is alive. If she’s been married for twenty-nine years, that means she got married while I was languishing in foster care.
I told myself I had moved on. But judging by the effect this revelation is having on me, I’m still trapped back in the body of that scared little boy who craved his parents’ love even when they showed him over and over again they weren’t capable of giving it.
Slowly, I sink down onto one of the lounges and watch as the waves rush up the beach, only to recede over and over again.
Sophaya
I wake up to an empty bed. Slowly, I stretch, glancing around our suite. Then I glance out the glass doors, smiling when I see Dominic lounging on the deck. I stand and grab a fluffy white robe from the back of the door.
But as I slide the doors open, a warning whispers across the back of my neck. Dominic’s shoulders are tense, his gaze trained on the horizon. He doesn’t even glance back at me as I walk out.
I glance out to the east. The sun is climbing in the sky, but it’s partially obscured as dark clouds gather.
“Dominic?”
“Wilford Smythe published an article this morning.” His cold, robotic tone frightens me.
I move behind him, rest a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even give any indication that he feels my touch. “Okay.”
He holds up his phone.
I take it and glance at the headline. My stomach drops. “Oh, dear God.”
I move to the chaise next to him and sit. I read the first few paragraphs quickly, then release a breath.
“It’s not exactly ideal, especially because I will start to show eventually. But it could be far worse. It’s supposition, he can’t prove—” My voice trails off as I scroll down. My heart clenches.
All of Dominic’s past, aired for the world to see when the one thing he wanted was privacy. When I get to the part about his mother, read about how she moved on, I want to cry.
“Dominic.” I reach for him, but he stands.
“I need a moment.” And then he walks away, down the stairs and onto the beach. Away from me.
I sit there, heartbroken. How is this possible?
How could we have been so happy yesterday, only to fall so far in the span of a single morning?
Beneath his cold demeanor, I saw pain. A pain so deep I can feel it in my soul.
A pain that’s been exposed because of who I am.
And, as the article shows, this will never stop.
Slowly, my own pain slips away, replaced by an iron resolve. I made a vow that if who I am and what I do were to ever hurt him, I would set him free. I can’t bring myself to wish we’d never gotten married. Selfish, but it’s the truth.
But I can set him free now.
With my decision made, I stand and move back into our suite. I shower, dress and start to pack.
Dominic comes back thirty minutes later. I don’t say hello to him, and he doesn’t say anything to me, just starts to mimic my movements and pack his bags. The silence between us is oppressive, a living, seething entity pushing on us, pressuring our deepest points of pain.
Dominic’s phone rings, and he answers. He makes a few noncommittal noises before hanging up. “I’ll need to go to New York in a week.”
My hands still. “I see.”
“The autumn gala for the Hawke Foundation is at the end of October. The venue flooded. Normally I just leave it to the staff, but I have a few other things I’d like to take care of, too.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. Remind myself that what I’m about to do is the best thing for both of us. “Okay. Maybe you should stay a little longer.”
His head snaps up as his eyes sharpen. “What are you doing?”
I tighten the sash on my dress, think of it as tightening my armor. “This was a fun excursion, Dominic, but it’s time to go back to reality.”
“Fun?” he repeats, his voice quietly lethal.
“I care about you. And because I care, I think it would be best for you to step back from your role.”
“And leave you to shoulder your duty alone?”
“I was born to this. It’s not your burden to carry.”
“For a woman who wants to have more choice, you’re doing one hell of a job taking away mine.”
I meet his gaze. Despite the anger in his voice, his face is still cold, empty.
“I saw the way you looked before you walked away. It’s similar to the one my parents have when they look at each other. I’m doing us a favor, Dominic. Better us separate our lives now before things get worse and the pressure becomes too much for either of us.”
“How does the baby factor into this?”
“I want you in the baby’s life. I would never ask you to give that up.”
“I just can’t be a part of yours,” he says quietly.
“Why would you want to? A few days of pleasure here and there while living the rest of your days with back-to-back meetings and conferences and cameras in your face—”
“I can help,” he grinds out. “And some of that pressure you place on yourself is because you’re so afraid of turning into your parents you work yourself half to death instead of setting boundaries.”
“You’re right. But answer me this. Was there a moment this morning when you felt trapped? Like you couldn’t escape a prison you’re now stuck in for the rest of your life?”
His silence is a death knell. If I had any hope left, it’s gone.
“You wanted me to set boundaries? I’m setting one now. One that will protect both of us. It may hurt right now, but I promise you, it will be the best thing for us in the long run so we don’t grow to hate each other.” I grab my suitcase. “Maybe it would be best if you went to New York now.”
“Is that what you want?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want.” Liar.
Finally, he speaks. “I’ll arrange a flight to New York City for today.” He walks out onto the deck, closing the door behind him.
I turn my back to him so he can’t see the tears slipping down my cheeks.