Chapter 29
Dominic
The plan had gone exactly the way it was supposed to. Mercer’s warehouse had folded in under twenty minutes. The product was secured, routes exposed, and Mercer’s men either scattered or were left bleeding before they could organize anything resembling resistance. No surprises and no loose ends.
That alone was enough to put Dominic in a better mood than usual.
They ended up at one of his bars to celebrate.
Low lighting, dark finishes, and a steady beat of music wove through the room.
It was busy, but not chaotic. There were plenty of people to keep the energy up, and the drinks moved fast. It was the kind of place where the night stretched, but never slipped.
Cassian dropped into a booth and reached for the bottle of whiskey that had materialized the moment they walked in. “Now this,” he said, pouring generously, “is how you follow a job like that.”
One of his men laughed, accepting the glass. “Mercer’s going to feel that. He’s going to be pissed.”
“Good,” Cassian replied easily. “He messed with the wrong people.”
Dominic sat across from them and reached for his own drink. The movement tugged at the healing cut along his arm, just enough to remind him it was still there. A reminder Mercer hadn’t suffered enough yet.
His gaze lifted. Knox was already watching him. He registered that unwavering focus at once, as if Knox had been studying him for minutes and had no intention of stopping. The directness sent a sharp jolt through him, landing square between his ribs.
He took a slow drink and let the burn settle into something grounding.
Across from him, Knox leaned back, one arm draped along the back of the booth.
There was still an unsettled buzz in him from earlier, adrenaline that hadn’t fully burned off.
Dominic could see it in the way his fingers moved against the glass, in the way his gaze drifted—and came back to him.
Always came back.
The first drink went down easy. So did the second. The edge of the night softened as the conversation around the table stayed light. Cassian’s voice rose and fell as the others joined in, but it didn’t hold Dominic’s attention for long.
After a while, Cassian pushed to his feet and dragged the others toward the pool table with a grin and a whiskey bottle.
That left him alone with Knox.
Over the past week, he’d caught him staring more than once.
It hadn’t been subtle—Knox’s eyes on his arms, his hands, his mouth, drifting away too late and returning too soon.
What was even less subtle was the fact that the eye contact had all but disappeared.
Knox avoided it now, breaking away the second it happened.
Dominic found that more annoying than he should have.
Tonight, Knox wasn’t looking away. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. His posture was loose in a way that didn’t match the focus in his eyes—like the adrenaline and the whiskey had stripped away whatever caution had been keeping him in check all week.
Dominic let the moment stretch. The noise of the bar continued around them, but Knox held the center of his attention. He shifted the glass between his fingers. “What did you think?” he asked.
Knox didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “About tonight?”
A nod.
Knox exhaled, gaze drifting for a second before returning. “It was a success.”
“Yes. But what did you think?”
Knox’s mouth twitched, amusement clear in his eyes. He leaned forward, forearms on the table, closer without making a show of it. “You want the real answer?”
Dominic held his gaze. “Yeah.”
“It was…” he paused, like he was choosing the word carefully. “Thrilling.”
Dominic said nothing.
“Dangerous,” Knox continued. “Fucked up. People shouting. Men getting shot.” His eyes stayed on Dominic. “It was exhilarating.”
Dominic let the words settle, let them hang long enough to see if Knox would take them back, or soften them into something easier to deal with. He didn’t.
There it was. More honest than most people in Dominic’s world ever allowed themselves to be. He took another drink, letting the burn sit on his tongue before swallowing, his eyes never leaving Knox.
“It didn’t feel wrong,” Knox admitted, quieter now. “I keep waiting for it to feel wrong.”
“I know,” Dominic said.
Then—a feminine voice cut into the space between them. “You’re hard to find these days.”
A beautiful woman stepped up to their table with the kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly what she looked like: long legs, blonde hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and a dress that clung like it had been poured on.
Her attention settled on Dominic like there was no one else in the room.
He recognized her. Sort of. His mind ran through names automatically—Elena…? No. Alina? Maybe. Aria? Something soft, something forgettable.
It didn’t matter.
“Well,” she said, smile practiced and seductive. “I was wondering when I’d see you again.”
Dominic leaned back in his seat, studying her without much interest. “Were you?”
Her hand slid along the edge of the table as she leaned in, close enough for her perfume to carry. “I almost thought you were avoiding me.”
“I was busy.”
Her smile didn’t falter. “I’m free tonight. Thought maybe we could pick up where we left off.”
Dominic looked at her properly then, letting his gaze settle where it was supposed to.
This would be easy. A willing woman, no complications, nothing that lingered after.
He could take her upstairs, lose himself in something that didn’t require thought.
Something that didn’t pull at him in ways that refused to make sense.
Yes. This was what he needed. Not the constant, maddening awareness that sat under his skin every time Knox was near. He could feel the decision settling into place. It was the only one that made sense.
Say yes.
His mouth opened to answer—
A loud, deliberate cough cut through the moment.
Dominic’s attention shifted before he could stop it. Knox hadn’t moved much. He was still in his seat, angled the way he’d been, but the looseness was gone. Tension had taken its place—coiled, pissed, and restless, visible in the set of his jaw and the rhythmic tap of his fingers against the table.
Annoyance flickered through Dominic. “What?”
“You don’t want her.”
Dominic’s expression hardened. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“You’re already bored.”
A small, awkward laugh slipped from the woman. “Okay, wow—”
Neither of them looked at her. Knox didn’t even acknowledge she’d spoken.
Dominic ground his teeth together. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Knox leaned forward. “You were more engaged talking to me.” Under the table, his foot slid forward and hooked around Dominic’s ankle.
Christ.
“You’re not even looking at her,” Knox said.
“I was.”
Knox tilted his head. “You were being rude. We were having a conversation.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “And?”
“And you were less bored talking to me.”
Dominic’s expression cooled. “Drop it.”
“Alright,” the woman said, the lightness gone from her voice. “I feel like I’m interrupting something.”
“You’re not,” Dominic said. Automatic. Clipped.
“You are,” Knox said at the same time. Just as flat.
Dominic shot him a look. “You done? I’m not playing this game.”
Knox watched him a bit longer. “Tell me something,” he said, almost mildly. “Without looking at her. What color are her eyes?”
Silence.
“Fine,” Knox said. “Easier question. What’s she wearing?”
Fuck.
He had nothing.
Knox leaned back and closed his eyes. “What color are my eyes?”
It shouldn’t have been a question Dominic answered. It shouldn’t have come that easily. “Light blue. Like ice.” The words left him before he could stop them.
Knox’s eyes opened, and there they were: eyes so pale they almost didn’t look real, drawing him in before he realized he was staring. Under the table, Knox’s foot tightened around his ankle. “Take me home,” he said. “I need to check on my mom.”
Dominic didn’t respond.
“Go,” Knox said, dismissing the woman without sparing her a glance.
Dominic didn’t correct him. She made an offended sound, followed by the clicking of heels as she turned away. Neither of them watched her leave.
“Take me home,” Knox repeated.
“And why would I do that?”
Knox didn’t hesitate. “Because you want to.”
Dominic’s grip tightened around the glass. The truth of it settled somewhere deep, beneath the annoyance and resistance, below the careful control he’d spent years building. Now, he was watching that control crack, piece by piece, under the unwavering stare of a boy with ice-blue eyes.
* * *
The drive was too short for the silence to settle into anything manageable, too long for it to be ignored. It filled the car, pressing in from all sides, carrying everything neither of them said.
Dominic’s jaw had been tight since they left the bar. Irritation simmered under his skin like something alive.
He should have taken her upstairs. Aria. Alina. Whatever her name was. He could have had her under him within minutes, could have buried himself in something simple and physical until there was nothing left in his head but heat and the kind of release that wiped everything clean.
He would have forgotten about Knox.
Instead, he’d walked out—because Knox had stepped in like he had any right to, and Dominic had let him. That was what pissed him off the most: not the interruption, but the fact that it had worked.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he took a turn sharper than necessary. Knox said nothing, but Dominic was aware of him anyway. His earlier edge was gone, replaced by something far more restrained. Like he’d retreated into himself and wasn’t sure where he stood anymore.
Good. He shouldn’t.
The car rolled to a stop outside the building, engine still running, the quiet somehow worse now that they weren’t moving.
Knox shifted in his seat. “Thanks for the ride,” he said, sounding almost shy, as he reached for the door.
“I’m coming up.”
Knox stilled, glancing back at him, confusion clear on his face. “What? It’s not your—”