Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Grace
Rehearsals had been brutal, but Dominic refused to stop.
I had been watching him all morning, tracking every subtle sign of exhaustion, every moment his balance faltered, every time his jaw clenched a little too tight.
The others were tired, but Dominic was something else entirely.
While they allowed themselves breaks, small moments to breathe, he didn’t.
He couldn’t. He carried this entire group on his back, and he knew it.
If he let himself slow down, even for a second, everything would start unraveling.
But it wasn’t a question of if anymore.
It was when.
And the answer came faster than he expected.
I was standing near the side of the stage, arms crossed, pretending I wasn’t keeping an eye on him.
The music blasted through the studio, shaking the walls, the choreography sharp and relentless.
Dominic was at the center, like always, his voice smooth despite the sweat trailing down his temple.
His movements were precise, controlled, but too controlled—like he was keeping himself together through sheer force of will.
Then, mid-step, he stumbled.
It was barely noticeable at first, just a split-second misstep, something most people wouldn’t even catch. But then he swayed, his grip tightening around the mic stand, his fingers white-knuckling the metal. His breathing hitched.
And then, just like that, his body gave out.
The moment he collapsed, everything stopped.
"Dom!" Ezra was the first to react, sprinting forward just as Dominic’s knees hit the floor.
Riley cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair as panic flickered across his features.
Theo was already on his phone, probably calling someone important, while Jaden crouched beside him, shaking his shoulder, his usual calm cracking just slightly.
I didn’t hesitate.
I moved before I could think, dropping to my knees beside Dominic, pressing my palm to his forehead.
His skin was burning, his shirt damp with sweat, his breath shallow and uneven.
Too fast. Too weak. Up close, I could see it—how the exhaustion had been carved into him for days, his body finally giving up after too many sleepless nights, too much pressure, too much of everything.
"Shit," Ezra muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I knew he wasn’t sleeping."
I shook Dominic’s shoulder, my voice firm. "Hey. Open your eyes."
For a second, nothing.
Then, slowly, his eyelashes fluttered, his brow creasing as he forced his gaze up.
His eyes met mine, unfocused, hazy. His lips parted, voice low, hoarse. "Dauntless." His smirk was weak, barely there. "Was that dramatic enough for you?"
I glared. "Yeah. Ten out of ten. Now shut up and let me handle this."
His smirk didn’t last long.
I didn’t give him a choice.
I pulled his arm over my shoulder, ignoring the way his body sagged against mine, how warm he was, how I could feel every inch of him pressed against me.
"We need to get him back to the penthouse," I said, my tone sharp. "Now."
Riley nodded immediately. "I’ll call the driver."
Theo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I’ll handle rescheduling this mess."
Jaden didn’t speak, just followed silently as I dragged Dominic toward the exit, his weight heavier than I expected.
He mumbled something under his breath, but I ignored it. He wasn’t in control anymore. I was.
The moment we got back to the penthouse, I dumped him onto his bed, pressing my hands onto my hips as I glared down at him.
Dominic groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "Grace?—"
"No," I cut him off. "You’re not allowed to argue. You’re sick. You need to rest. End of discussion."
He blinked up at me, eyes still slightly dazed from the fever. Then, slowly, his lips curled into something that was way too smug for someone who had just collapsed in public. "Are you always this bossy?"
I scowled, crossing my arms. "Only when idiots like you make my job harder than it needs to be."
Dominic hummed, shifting slightly on the bed, his voice dropping lower. "You like taking care of me, don’t you?"
I narrowed my eyes. "I like keeping my clients alive."
His smirk deepened. "So you do care."
I grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked him with it.
He groaned, laughing weakly before coughing, his voice rough.
His whole body radiated heat, his breathing slow but uneven.
I let out a frustrated sigh before storming off to the bathroom, wetting a cloth with cold water.
By the time I came back, he had thrown an arm over his eyes, like even the dim lighting in the room was too much.
I sat on the edge of the bed, pressing the cloth to his forehead. He exhaled at the touch, tension leaving his body, but when I started to pull my hand back, his fingers moved—wrapping loosely around my wrist.
I stilled.
His grip wasn’t tight. It wasn’t demanding. It was just there, the heat of his palm warming my skin in a way that sent a sharp, unwanted awareness through me.
His lips parted, voice softer this time. "Why do you care?"
I swallowed.
The room felt too quiet. The space between us too small.
I could have pulled away. Should have.
But I didn’t.
Instead, my voice came out quieter than I intended.
"Because someone has to."
Something flickered in his expression, something intense, something I didn’t want to name. His grip tightened just slightly, his thumb brushing against my wrist, slow, deliberate. A test. A challenge.
My pulse betrayed me.
His breathing was uneven, but not from the fever anymore.
His body was too close, his scent—something deep and familiar, a mix of cologne and exhaustion and heat—coiling around me, messing with my head.
His lips parted just slightly, his gaze lowering, drifting, his chest rising and falling a little too sharply.
I needed to move.
I needed to say something.
But I didn’t.
I just sat there, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs, waiting for something I wasn’t sure I could handle.
Then, just as the tension thickened to the point of breaking, his grip finally loosened.
His eyelashes fluttered, his breathing deepened, his body giving in to the exhaustion that had been threatening to consume him all day.
He was asleep before anything could happen.
I let out a slow breath, staring at him for a long moment, my pulse still racing in a way that had nothing to do with stress and everything to do with him.
I told myself this was just part of the job.
But the way my body reacted to him said otherwise.