16. Dominico
16
DOMINICO
I wake up to the feeling of Sofia’s warm body pressed against mine, her soft curves fitting perfectly into the contours of my own. For a moment, I allow myself to simply bask in the sensation, to savor the sweet ache of my muscles and the lingering scent of sex on the sheets.
But then the memories of last night come rushing back, and I feel a sharp pain of something that feels dangerously close to heartbreak. Sofia’s words echo in my mind, a haunting reminder of the chasm that still lies between us.
“ I'll never love you again ,” she had said, her voice cold and final even as her body melted into my touch. “ But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy fucking you .”
The words had cut me deeper than I cared to admit, the casual cruelty of them like a knife to the gut. But even as the pain of her rejection washes over me, I feel a flicker of something else. Something hot and fierce and unyielding, something that feels like a challenge rising up to meet me head-on.
She says she’ll never love me again? We’ll see about that.
Because I know Sofia better than anyone, know the depths of passion and vulnerability that lie beneath her icy exterior. I’ve seen the way her eyes light up when she laughs, the way her face softens with tenderness when she thinks no one is looking.
And I’ll be damned if I let her push me away, if I let her convince herself that what we have is nothing more than a physical attraction. I know better, and deep down, so does she.
And if I’m being honest with myself, there's more than just pride and stubbornness driving me forward. There’s a desperate ache in my own heart, a longing that I’ve tried so hard to deny and bury but that comes roaring back to life every time I look into her eyes.
Because the truth is, my feelings for Sofia never really went away. They were always there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to burst into flame once more.
I thought I had buried those feelings long ago, thought I had locked them away in some dark, forgotten corner of my heart. But being with her again, touching her and tasting her and losing myself in the heat of our passion… it’s like a dam has burst inside me, releasing a flood of emotions that I can no longer deny or control.
I love her. I love her with a depth and intensity that takes my breath away, that makes my heart ache and my soul sing. I love her in a way that I’ve never loved anyone before, in a way that I know I’ll never love anyone again.
And I want her to love me back again. I want it with a desperate, clawing need that consumes me from the inside out, that drives me forward with a single-minded focus and determination.
I’ve never failed to win a woman's heart before. I’ve always been able to charm and seduce and persuade, to make them fall for me with a smile and a wink and a few well-chosen words.
But with Sofia, it’s different. She knows me too well, knows all my tricks and all my flaws. She’s seen the ugliest parts of me, the selfish and reckless and cruel sides that I try so hard to keep hidden from the world.
And yet, despite all of that… I still want her. I still need her like I need air to breathe and water to drink. I still ache for her with a hunger that never seems to be satisfied, no matter how many times I lose myself in the warmth of her body.
So, I’ll take her challenge and raise her one of my own. I’ll make it my mission to change her mind, to prove to her that the love we once shared is still alive and burning between us. I’ll court her like I did when we were young, show her all the ways I’ve changed and grown and become the man she always hoped I could be.
And I’ll do it all while keeping my own feelings hidden, while pretending that this is just another conquest, just another challenge to be met and overcome.
Because I’m not ready to admit the truth to myself, not ready to face the depth and intensity of my own emotions. I’m not ready to confront the fact that losing Sofia again might just be the thing that breaks me, that shatters me beyond repair.
I’ll play the game, put on the mask, and hope that somewhere along the way… she starts to see me differently, starts to remember the love that we once shared, the connection that still simmers between us even after all these years.
And maybe, just maybe… she’ll start to fall for me again, start to see me as more than just a mistake from her past, more than just a convenient body to use for her own pleasure.
It’s a long shot, I know, a gamble that might just blow up in my face and leave me more broken than ever before. But it’s a risk I have to take, a chance I have to seize with both hands.
Because the alternative… a life without Sofia, a future where she never looks at me with love in her eyes again…
It’s not a future I’m willing to accept, not a fate I’m willing to resign myself to.
So, I’ll fight for her with every ounce of charm and skill and relentless devotion I possess, and I’ll hope that somehow, some way… she finds her way back to me.
I carefully extract myself from Sofia’s sleeping form, taking care not to wake her. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful in the soft morning light that filters through the curtains, and I can’t resist pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before slipping out of bed.
I quickly throw on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, running a hand through my tousled hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it. But my mind is already racing ahead, forming a plan that I hope will be the first step in winning Sofia’s heart all over again.
I make my way downstairs to the kitchen where I find our cook, Maria, already hard at work preparing breakfast for the family. She looks up as I enter, her weathered face breaking into a warm smile.
“Ah, Young Master Dominico,” she says, her accent thick and musical. “What brings you to my kitchen so early in the morning?”
I flash her my most charming grin, the one that never fails to melt even the coldest of hearts. “Maria, my love,” I say, laying it on thickly, “I need a favor from the most beautiful and talented cook in all of Italy.”
She swats at me with her kitchen towel, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, boy,” she scolds, but I can tell she’s already softening. “What is it you want?”
I lean in conspiratorially, lowering my voice as if sharing a secret. “I want to surprise my lovely bride with breakfast in bed,” I tell her. “Do you think you could help me put together a tray of her favorite foods?”
Maria’s face softens, her eyes growing misty with emotion. “Ah, young love,” she sighs, wiping her hands on her apron. “Of course I will help you, Dominico. Anything for the new Signora Sicura.”
She sets to work, piling a tray high with freshly baked pastries, slices of ripe fruit, some whipped cream, and a steaming pot of coffee. As she works, she regales me with stories of her own courtship and marriage, her voice growing wistful with memories.
“You know, the best way to any woman’s heart is through her stomach,” she tells me, wagging a finger in my direction. “Feed her well, and she will love you forever.”
I laugh, feeling a surge of affection for this woman who has been like a second mother to me all these years. “I will keep that in mind, Maria,” I tell her, leaning in to press a kiss to her weathered cheek. “Thank you for your wisdom, and for your help.”
She waves me off, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Go on, now,” she says, shooing me toward the door. “Go woo your bride, and may God have mercy on her soul for putting up with you.”
I grin, grabbing the tray and heading back toward the stairs. As I climb, I say a silent prayer of thanks that I haven’t run into any of my family members yet. I’m not ready to face their questions or their knowing looks—especially from Valentina. She would never let me live this down.
Right now, all I want is to focus on Sofia, on showing her how much I care, how much I want to make this marriage work.
And if that means starting with something as simple as breakfast in bed? Then so be it.
I carefully balance the tray as I nudge open the bedroom door, my heart pounding with anticipation and nervousness. Sofia is still asleep, her dark hair fanned out across the pillow and her face relaxed.
For a moment, I simply stand there, drinking in the sight of her. She looks so beautiful, so innocent and unguarded, that it takes my breath away. But I know I can’t let myself get lost in the moment, not if I want to make this plan work.
I set the tray down on the bedside table and gently sit on the edge of the bed. “Sofia,” I murmur, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
She stirs, her eyes fluttering open and then widening in surprise as she takes in the sight of me hovering over her. “Dom?” she asks, her voice husky with sleep. “What's going on?”
I gesture to the tray with a flourish, a hopeful smile tugging at my lips. “I brought you breakfast in bed,” I tell her. “All your favorite foods, just the way you like them.”
Sofia sits up, her expression wary and guarded. I can see the wheels turning in her head, trying to figure out my angle, my ulterior motive. But as her gaze falls on the tray, taking in the spread of fresh pastries, ripe fruit, whipped cream, and steaming coffee, I can see a flicker of something else in her eyes.
Something that looks almost like… pleasure.
“You remembered,” she murmurs, reaching out to pluck a strawberry from the bowl. “All my favorite things.”
I nod, feeling a rush of hope and excitement. “Of course I did,” I tell her. “I could never forget anything about you, Sofia. You're too important to me.”
She looks up at me then, her eyes searching mine for any hint of deception or insincerity, but all she finds is raw, honest emotion, a vulnerability that I rarely let anyone see.
Slowly, hesitantly, she takes a bite of the strawberry, her lips closing around the ripe fruit in a way that makes my heart race and my blood heat. I watch, transfixed, as a drop of juice escapes and rolls down her chin, leaving a glistening trail in its wake.
Without thinking, I reach out and swipe it away with my thumb, bringing it to my own lips to taste the sweetness of her skin mingled with the tart burst of the berry. Sofia’s breath hitches, her eyes darkening with a heat that I know all too well.
Emboldened by her response, I pick up another strawberry, dipping it in the bowl of whipped cream before holding it up to her lips. “Open up,” I murmur, my voice low and husky.
She does, her tongue darting out to lick at the cream before taking the whole berry into her mouth. I groan at the sight, at the way her lips close around my fingers and the soft, wet heat of her mouth.
Before I know it, I'm leaning in, my own mouth chasing the taste of her. I kiss her deeply, hungrily, the flavors of strawberries and cream and Sofia mingling on my tongue in a heady, intoxicating rush.
She responds instantly, her arms coming up to wrap around my neck and pull me closer. I lower her back down to the bed, my body covering hers as the kiss turns heated, desperate.
I trail my lips down her neck, her collarbone, my tongue lapping at her skin as I go. I paint her body with whipped cream and fruit, worshiping her with my mouth until she's writhing beneath me, her hands fisted in my hair and her moans filling the air.
As I finally sink into her warm, welcoming heat, as I lose myself in the pleasure and passion of our joining, I know that this is just the beginning.
It’s the first step on the path to winning her heart, to proving to her that my love is real and true and unending.