Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dominic
The strum of an acoustic guitar hummed through the penthouse, low and deliberate, a slow rhythm threading through the walls like something meant to be private—something not meant to be heard by outsiders.
I hadn’t meant to stop. I had been on my way to check the latest security updates, my mind preoccupied with work, with the ever-growing list of threats I needed to handle, with the damn heat of Dominic’s touch still lingering on my wrist from this morning.
But the sound made me hesitate. It wasn’t their usual rehearsals, wasn’t the polished, radio-ready tracks I had gotten used to hearing seep through the walls at all hours of the day. It was different.
Raw. Unpolished. And painfully honest.
I followed the sound without thinking, my steps slowing as I reached the open lounge area.
The lights were dimmed, the usual chaos of the penthouse replaced by something quieter, more intimate.
The band was sprawled out in their usual spots—Ezra and Theo on the couch, Riley sitting cross-legged on the floor, Jaden at the piano, his fingers moving lightly over the keys as if he were barely touching them.
And then there was Dominic.
He was sitting in the center of it all, guitar resting on his lap, head bent slightly as he strummed.
He wasn’t performing. He wasn’t playing for anyone but himself.
His jaw was tight, his posture loose but controlled, and there was something in the way his fingers moved—something careful, precise, like the song wasn’t just music but a weight he was carrying.
Then he sang.
"I let go of your hand, but I still feel it in the dark…"
I inhaled sharply.
"I walk through crowded streets, but somehow I still feel apart."
The words slipped into the space between us like a confession he hadn’t meant to make aloud. His voice was lower than usual, not the smooth, effortless tone he used in performances, but something unsteady, like the words weren’t just lyrics but pieces of something broken inside him.
I pressed my back against the wall, my fingers curling into my sleeves.
"You were the home I never knew I needed… now I’m lost in a house that’s not mine."
I swallowed.
This song wasn’t for the fans.
It wasn’t for a new album, wasn’t meant to be perfected and repackaged for millions to hear. This was something else. Something personal.
Something he had lost.
And whatever it was, it still haunted him.
The air in the room felt heavy, and for once, the guys didn’t interrupt. They didn’t joke, didn’t tease, didn’t fill the silence with their usual noise. They just listened.
Dominic’s fingers slowed on the guitar, the last note fading into the stillness. For a moment, no one moved.
Then Ezra, of course, broke the silence.
“You know,” he mused, stretching his arms over his head, “for someone who claims we annoy her, you spend a lot of time eavesdropping on us.”
I immediately straightened, pushing off the wall. “I wasn’t eavesdropping.”
Ezra smirked, glancing at Theo. “You hear that? She wasn’t eavesdropping.”
Theo didn’t even look up from his phone. “Sure. And I don’t do spreadsheets before bed.”
Riley grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “I think she’s falling for us.”
I scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Ezra arched a brow. “So you’re saying you didn’t get emotional over Dom’s sad-boy anthem just now?”
I rolled my eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck. “If you’re done being insufferable, I actually have work to do.”
But when I turned, I caught Dominic’s gaze.
He hadn’t said anything yet. Hadn’t smirked, hadn’t teased, hadn’t pushed like he usually did.
He was just watching me.
Like he knew I had heard more than I was supposed to.
Like he knew I had felt something I wasn’t ready to admit.
I didn’t wait for him to say anything.
I walked away.
But later that night, I still heard the song in my head.
And for the first time since I started this job, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to forget it.
I was scanning through the latest security reports when my phone buzzed with a new notification. I barely glanced at it at first, assuming it was just another routine system update—until I saw the alert.
New Keylogger Detected: Dominic’s Laptop.
My stomach dropped.
I clicked into the report immediately, scanning the details. Someone had installed a tracking program onto his personal device—one designed to record every keystroke, every login, every single thing he typed. This wasn’t just a security breach. This was direct surveillance.
Someone wasn’t just watching them.
They were watching him.
I shot up from my desk, my heart hammering as I stormed down the hall. I didn’t even knock this time—I just walked straight into his room.
He wasn’t there.
I cursed under my breath, spinning on my heel and heading toward the one place I knew I’d find him.
The rooftop was quiet when I stepped outside, the air crisp against my skin. Dominic stood near the edge, leaning against the railing, his posture relaxed but his expression unreadable as he gazed out over the city.
He didn’t look at me.
"You should be asleep," he murmured.
I crossed my arms. "So should you."
He let out a slow exhale, tapping his fingers lightly against the metal railing. “Something tells me you didn’t come up here to talk about sleep schedules.”
I hesitated for only a second before saying, “Your laptop was hacked.”
This time, he didn’t freeze. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even act remotely surprised.
I narrowed my eyes. “You already knew.”
His fingers stilled. Then, finally, he turned his head slightly, just enough to meet my gaze. His expression was calm, but his eyes—his eyes weren’t surprised at all.
“I had a feeling,” he admitted.
I clenched my jaw. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.
Then, instead of answering, he pushed off the railing and stepped closer.
Too close.
"You don’t like not knowing things, do you?" His voice was low, quiet enough that I felt it more than I heard it.
I refused to step back. “And you don’t like sharing things. Guess we’re both miserable.”
His mouth twitched, something almost like a smirk—but not quite.
The tension between us was too sharp, too tangled.
I could still hear the song in my head.
I could still hear his voice.
I could still feel the pull, the unbearable gravity that seemed to exist between us, something unspoken but impossible to ignore.
Finally, Dominic exhaled, glancing back at the skyline.
His smirk was softer this time, but his eyes—his eyes still held too many secrets.
I should have left it alone.
I should have walked away.
But I didn’t.
Because Dominic Beethoven was a problem I couldn’t solve.
And the worst part?
I wasn’t sure I wanted to anymore.