Chapter 8
Dominic
The champagne room wasn’t for this. Not usually.
Chris Rock had been right about that much: there was no sex in the champagne room.
At least not for customers. For most people, it simply meant privacy and lap dances, nothing more.
Anything beyond that was illegal and crossed lines Dominic had drawn from the moment he took ownership of The Velvet Room.
His rules existed for a reason. He had no interest in cops sniffing around his business because some entitled customer decided a dancer’s boundaries were negotiable.
But for him, the rules changed. Not because he forced exceptions—he never needed to.
The women who worked for him knew exactly where they stood: protected, respected, paid better than they would be almost anywhere else.
No one was ever forced. Which meant that when one of them chose to offer more, it was exactly that—a choice.
He let his thoughts wander as he settled into the red velvet couch that wrapped the private room on three sides. Cassian took the far wall, spreading out and flashing his reckless grin. Knox hesitated for a moment before claiming the spot directly across from Dominic.
The boy still carried the aftermath of the day in every line of his body.
Most men went numb after what Knox had witnessed.
Not Knox. If anything, he looked brighter for it.
Like adrenaline had gotten into his bloodstream and refused to leave.
He’d seen it before in men who discovered they liked danger more than they should.
The door opened with a gentle click. Missy stepped inside first, composed as ever, and the three women followed behind her.
Each one was beautiful and striking in her own way.
One was tall and elegant, wine-red silk clinging to her body.
Another wore her confidence louder, tattoos blooming across honeyed skin.
The third was petite and blonde, all bright laughter and wicked eyes.
Missy met Dominic’s gaze, silently confirming that everything was as it should be. He gave the smallest nod. Her smile changed. “All yours, gentlemen,” she said smoothly. “Treat them right.” Then she was gone, the music deepening as the door shut behind her.
He watched each woman choose for herself.
That was always the thing Dominic appreciated about professionals.
No awkward uncertainty. No waiting to be directed.
The one in silk crossed to Dominic, trailing her fingers over his shoulder before settling gracefully into his lap with a knowing smile.
The tattooed dancer claimed Cassian, laughing softly at whatever outrageous thing he whispered into her ear.
The blonde chose Knox. She straddled his lap, careful but confident, one hand braced on the back of the couch, the other sliding across Knox’s chest.
Knox inhaled sharply but didn’t pull away. His hands hovered in obvious uncertainty before she took them herself and guided them to her hips.
Dominic watched all of it.
He should have focused elsewhere. The woman in his lap was beautiful, warm, entirely willing, moving against him with practiced precision. Her perfume curled in the air between them as her mouth brushed his jaw.
Any other night, that would have been enough. Pleasure had never required thought. It had always been uncomplicated, a distraction he could sink into without effort. But his attention kept drifting back to the boy.
Knox was trying hard to appear unaffected as the blonde coaxed him further into the moment. There was something disturbingly captivating about watching his control slowly give way.
Dominic forced himself to focus on the woman in his arms as she continued her tease. But tonight, everything felt profoundly off. No matter how hard he tried to anchor himself in the moment, Knox kept pulling him in.
This is all wrong.
He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had pulled at his concentration like this, let alone a man.
What was it about Knox? Why was he so fascinating to him?
It was almost embarrassing, the urge to catch every nuance, to know what he would do next.
Every glance at Knox seemed to reward the weakness, feeding the strange pull instead of dulling it.
The woman in Dominic’s lap pressed closer, fingers slipping beneath his shirt, her mouth brushing the line of his neck in invitation.
He responded automatically, hands moving over warm skin because instinct took over where concentration failed, but the reactions felt disconnected, almost mechanical.
And then Knox looked up.
Their eyes met and the connection snapped tight.
For a split second, Dominic forgot where he was.
He should have looked away. Instead, he held it.
The realization unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
This wasn’t normal curiosity; it was something he didn’t have a name for, and he didn’t particularly want one.
He refocused on the feeling of warm hands gliding over his stomach, a hot tongue against his skin. Yet every few seconds, his gaze drifted back across the room.
The pull was magnetic. Impossible to break for long.
Sometimes their gazes collided and both would look away, as if they’d been caught doing something wrong. Other times they held, neither blinking.
Knox’s cheeks were flushed and his mouth pink as the dancer moved over him. He saw the way Knox’s teeth worried his bottom lip, lust etched into his face. Every time Knox’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips, it sent a jolt through Dominic—stronger than anything the dancer could provoke.
What the fuck is happening?
The music slowed, making the dancers shift gears without a word. They understood the arrangement behind this door today, and they’d be paid generously for it.
His dancer slid off his lap in one graceful motion, sinking between his knees. Her hands found his waistband, unbuttoning his pants with deft fingers, looking up for a last confirmation.
He gave a slight nod.
Across the room, the other dancers had followed suit. Knox tensed before letting himself sink back, biting that fucking lip again as the blonde’s mouth closed over him.
Dominic exhaled slowly through his nose.
It should have been easy to give in. The sensation was there.
Heat. Pressure. The familiar escalation.
But his concentration fractured every time he looked up.
And he kept looking up, because Knox kept meeting his gaze.
There was less caution in it now. Something raw had taken its place.
Suddenly, it was impossible not to watch.
The room was thick with desire, music, and the wet, desperate sounds of three women working them over. Dominic’s last bit of self-control started to fray, making him clench his jaw and bury his hands in the dancer’s hair. She took him deeper, her fingers pressing into his hips.
Across from him, Knox was still watching, pupils blown wide.
This is stupid.
Dangerous.
Unacceptable.
And still, every instinct he trusted was screaming at him not to look away. As though something essential might happen if he kept watching.
He told himself it was nothing. Just curiosity. Just an exercise in control.
The lie barely lasted a second, because Knox was unraveling now. Dominic watched him fight it, a stubborn attempt to remain composed. He expected Knox to swallow any sound, to stay silent till the end.
He was wrong.
As the dancer took him deeper, a broken moan tore out of him, loud enough to hear over the thump of the bass. The sound was hungry and so honest it set Dominic’s nerves alight.
He saw the exact moment Knox lost it—his body going rigid, head tipping back, mouth falling open as another broken sound spilled free. Even then, Knox’s eyes clung to his, dazed but intent, like he was anchoring himself there.
That was all it took.
Dominic’s release crashed through him hard enough to obliterate thought. For a split second, nothing existed except the wrecked look on Knox’s face and the violent rush surging through his body.
Fuuuck.
He had never—never—felt anything remotely like that before. And worse, he knew exactly why. He dropped his head back against the velvet, jaw clenched so tight it hurt, heart pounding like he’d survived a gunfight.
Across the room, Knox was still staring at him, looking just as stunned. Just as lost. The realization landed somewhere deep and unwelcome: a line had been crossed. One he didn’t understand and absolutely couldn’t uncross.
He shut his eyes. He needed a minute.
Maybe several.
For the first time in a very long time, he had absolutely no idea what the hell came next.
* * *
The car rolled to a stop in front of Knox’s building, the engine left idling in the dark. Knox reached for the door handle without looking at either of them, his mind clearly a thousand miles away.
Before Knox could get out, Dominic broke the silence. “You’re quitting your job tomorrow.”
The words came out flat and transactional, as though making it sound like business might quiet the turmoil in his own head.
Knox froze, his hand still resting on the handle. “What?”
“You heard me,” Dominic said. “You’re done at the gas station. You hand over your keys, thank your boss, and don’t go back.”
Knox turned toward him, disbelief hardening rapidly into anger. “That’s not your call.”
“It is now.”
“No.” Knox stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “I need that job.”
Dominic’s mouth twisted. “You need to stop arguing with me more. Besides, I’ll pay you better than they ever did, so what exactly are you so pissed off about?”
“Because it’s mine,” Knox snapped. The force of it caught Dominic off guard.
“It’s my job. My money. My life. I pay our bills with that money. My mom needs medication. What happens when you get bored? Or decide I’m not useful anymore? If I quit, all I’ve got left is whatever you give me.”
Cassian let out a low whistle, glancing between them but wisely staying out of it.
Dominic’s teeth ground together. The practical answer—that Knox would be taken care of, that Dominic wouldn’t let him or his mother go without—should have come easily. Instead, what came out was harsher. “I’m not asking, Knox.”
Knox’s expression hardened, his jaw ticking.
“If you don’t quit,” Dominic continued, each word clipped, “I’ll take care of it myself. I’ll make sure the message gets delivered another way. It’s your choice. Handle it yourself, or I’ll handle it for you.”
Knox’s hands curled into fists in his lap. “So that’s it? I’m property now? You want to put a collar on me?”
Whatever restraint he’d been holding onto snapped under the weight of everything he was trying not to think about.
“I want you available whenever I need you,” he shot back, louder than intended.
“You’re under my protection now. That means I want you where I can see you.
If that makes you angry, you’ll get over it. ”
“No,” Knox fired back, voice rising. “You don’t get to decide every damn thing in my life just because you dragged me into yours. I’m not—”
Dominic cut him off, the words coming out rough. “I do now. That’s the reality. My world, my rules. You can hate it all you want, but it doesn’t make it less true.”
Silence crashed down after that. The only sound was Cassian tapping his ring against the dashboard, watching Knox with a mix of sympathy and warning.
Dominic exhaled hard, dragging a hand over his jaw. What the hell was wrong with him? He knew he could be ruthless when the situation called for it. But this? This wasn’t calculated. He was being crueler than Knox deserved, and he knew it.
Knox had every reason to push back against the idea of surrendering the last scraps of independence he still had.
Dominic understood that perfectly. The problem was that understanding it wasn’t helping.
The strange agitation that had been clawing at him since the champagne room refused to settle, leaving him flustered in a way he deeply disliked.
And when Dominic felt off-balance, his instincts didn’t lean toward softness.
He tried to dial it back. “You’ll thank me later,” he said. “Or maybe you won’t. Either way, you’ll do what I tell you.”
Knox stared at him, fury and something wounded burning in his expression. He shoved the door open, climbed out, and slammed the door hard enough to make the car rock with the impact.
Dominic watched him stalk toward the building without looking back, his jaw locked so tightly his teeth ached. The familiar certainty that usually steadied him was nowhere to be found. In its place was a knot of frustration, and a feeling he refused to examine.
Cassian waited until Knox had disappeared inside before turning in his seat. “Well,” he said lightly, though his expression was far too observant. “That was subtle.”
Dominic shot him a look.
Cassian ignored it. “What is it with this kid?”
“Don’t.”
“I’m serious,” Cassian said. “I’ve seen you deal with cops, rivals, men who wanted you dead, and somehow none of them got under your skin the way this one does. He’s got you all fucked up.”
Dominic gripped the wheel harder. “I’m handling it.”
Cassian just grinned wider. “Really? Didn’t look that way in the champagne room earlier. If I didn’t know for a fact you were straight, I’d swear you completely forgot there were three gorgeous women in that room, because you were too busy staring at Knox.”
Dominic went still. “Drop it.”
Cassian snorted. “Sure. But I’m telling you, you’re different around him.”
“You saw what you wanted to see.”
Cassian let it go, but his look said he didn’t buy it for a second. He shook his head and turned back to the windshield.
Dominic’s gaze fixed ahead. It was nothing. A fluke. A bizarre, chemically fucked moment after an already unhinged day. He was straight. He’d always been straight. Whatever happened in that room—whatever weird thing had passed between them—meant absolutely nothing.
The alternative was something Dominic had no intention of unpacking while being parked outside some shitty apartment building.
He wasn’t about to lose his mind over some boy with a chip on his shoulder and a pair of haunted eyes.
Whatever Cassian had seen back there in the club, he could shove it.
Dominic didn’t owe anyone an explanation, least of all himself.