Dominic
Chapter twenty-two
The door doesn't just close behind her; it echoes. The heavy boom rattles through the garage, vibrating in my teeth.
I don’t look up. I can’t. If I look up and see the space where she was just standing—where she looked at me with those eyes that seemed to see right through the fast cars and the branding—I’m going to lose my mind.
My chest is tight, my lungs burning as if I’ve just pulled a triple stint in the Singapore heat. I care because it’s you.
The words are a sickness. A lie. They have to be.
I pick up a torque wrench, my fingers cramping around the handle. My hand is steady now. The tremor is gone, scared back by the sheer force of my adrenaline. That’s the irony of it—the rage is the only thing that is actually making me feel functional.
I’d brought her to see my mother today. I’d never done that before. Not with anyone.
It was a mistake. A momentary lapse in judgment fueled by my stupidness. I don’t care about Carter Hayes. I can’t. To care about her is to admit that there’s a version of my life where I’m not just a driver—and that version is a fantasy. A lie.
"She looked like she was ready to set the hedges on fire."
The voice comes from near the door. When had he come in? I don't flinch. I don't even pause the useless tensioning of a bolt that’s already tight.
Luka.
"Should I be worried?" he asks, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he nears the center of the garage. "Because Carter just charged past the house looking like she wanted to punch a hole through some drywall."
"No," I mutter. "She’s just temperamental. You know how the Hayes family is. High drama, low stakes."
I can feel Luka’s stare. It’s heavy. Identical to mine, but without the rot.
"Is that right?" Luka’s voice is deceptively casual. He shifts his footing before crossing his arms. "Because I called Mom earlier. She spent twenty minutes telling me how you brought Carter by the facility today. How she took you both with her in the garden. How you looked... not like yourself."
"Mom is a romantic. She sees what she wants to see. There’s nothing to explain."
Luka steps into the light of the workbench. His expression isn't his usual smirk. It’s guarded. Protective. "Look, Dom. I like Carter. I like her a lot. She’s got more spine than any girl you’ve dragged through here in the last five years for a weekend of fun. She’s real."
Don't I know it, I think, the thought bitter as gall.
"But I know you," Luka continues, his voice hardening.
"I know how you operate. You find something that interests you, you use it until the novelty wears off, and then you forget it ever existed. But Carter isn't a novelty. She’s... different. I actually care what she thinks of me. And I’m not going to sit back and watch you try and tempt her just to treat her like another spare part you can toss aside when you're frustrated. "
I finally stop, the wrench clicking as I turn to face him. I let a slow, mocking smile pull at my mouth, hiding the bitter surge of adrenaline in my throat. If only he knew. If he had any idea how far past "temptation" we already were, he’d probably kill me.
"Is that what this is?" I ask, my voice dripping with merciless condescension. "The loyal Valerio finally found a spine because he’s got a crush on the coach's daughter?"
Luka presses his teeth together once, but he doesn't flinch. For the first time in our lives, he doesn't look like the younger brother waiting for permission.
"I’m serious, Dom. I'm asking you as your brother. Is there something going on? Because I can tell she’s getting to you, and that’s not something I see often. I’m telling you now—don’t start something with her just because you're bored. She deserves more than being your latest distraction."
"You see what you want to see, Luka. You always have." I lean back against the bench, crossing my arms, my eyes raking over him. He’s looking for a spark, a hint of the truth, but I give him nothing. "But let’s be honest. You’re only standing here because you want her for yourself.
You think you’re the hero in this story, don't you? The nice guy waiting in the wings.”
Luka doesn't look away. "I think she deserves someone who isn't looking for an exit strategy before he even starts. And yeah, I want her.”
The weight of his admission hits me with a blunt, sickening force. It’s the truth, I can see it—and it’s devastating. He’s standing his ground for her. He’s offering her a version of himself I can’t provide: one that’s stable, whole, and actually capable of looking toward a future.
"So I’m going to ask you one more time," Luka says, his voice a low, steady rumble that demands an answer. "Is there something going on? Because if you just want to mess with her, then stay the hell out of her way."
I look my brother in the eye, my expression turning into the same practiced way I’d used on Carter.
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to claim her, to tell him exactly what has happened between us, but I choke it down.
If I say this lie out loud, I can make it the truth.
I can hand her over to the brother who isn't breaking. I can save her from the wreckage I’m becoming before she gets buried in it.
"I think you're confusing a business arrangement for a fairy tale," I say, my voice a flat, dead line. "Carter Hayes is a contractual obligation. She is the daughter of a man our father pays because he thinks it will keep me on the podium. She’s a distraction I’m tolerating because it keeps everyone happy.
Once the season is over and the dust settles, I won't even remember her name. "
I square my shoulders, making sure he sees the absolute void in my expression, making sure he believes that every touch, every look, and every single interaction we had leading up to this point meant nothing more than a box checked on a list.
"To me, she’s just noise. And I’ve spent my whole life learning how to tune that out. If you want to go chase a footnote, be my guest."
Luka searches my face, looking for the crack, for the lie. I don't give it to him. Finally, he exhales, a look of relief—and maybe a shred of disappointment at my lifestyle choices—settling over him. He shakes his head and walks away, leaving me alone in the freezing quiet.
I turn back to the bench, but my hands won't move.
The sound of her voice—wounded and raw, shouting that she didn't give a single fuck about a legacy—is still vibrating in the air.
I'm looking at you. I’d convinced myself she was just another person looking for a way out, but the memory of her standing her ground against my rage makes that lie taste like ash.
She hadn't blinked. She hadn't flinched. She’d stayed until I’d verbally shoved her away.
My gaze flickers where Luka disappeared.
Of course he wants her. And why wouldn’t she want him?
He’s the Valerio who functions. He’s the brother who wears this life naturally.
I’ve spent my life being the one the world looked at, the one who carried the weight because I knew how to steer, but Luka is the one who actually gets to keep the life he builds.
The charmer. It’s a simple calculation. He’s the better option because he is a whole man, and I’m just a series of failing parts.
I haven't just pointed her toward the exit. I’ve pointed her toward the member of this family that isn’t a dead end.
If Carter’s going to stay here, she should be with someone who can actually offer her a future that doesn’t involve watching someone disappear into himself. A guy like Luka—someone built to last.
Someone steady enough to meet her in the future she still thinks she’s trying to outrun.
I reach for the burger she left behind—the one I’d taken a bite of just to see the flush on her neck. I pick it up and throw it into the trash. The metal bin clangs, a final, hollow sound that marks the end of the only real thing I’ve ever seemed to have.
The silence in the garage is deafening. I have everything I wanted. I’m alone. I’m focused.
And for the first time in my life, I can’t breathe.