Chapter 2 Amelia
The darkness thickens around me, the hushed murmurs of the gala guests punctuated by the occasional scrape of a chair, the hurried shuffle of feet. My pulse is an erratic drumbeat in my ears, but it has little to do with the blackout.
Dominic Hawthorne is standing inches away from me.
His presence is suffocating in the worst and best ways. I don’t need to see him to know he’s close—the warm scent of musk and something darkly luxurious lingers between us, familiar and unshakable. His gaze is sharp, assessing, unraveling me, just like he did that night.
I should move. Put distance between us. But I don’t. Not yet.
“I was saying you look great,” he murmurs, his voice low, edged with something unreadable.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Thanks. So do you.”
A low chuckle rumbles through him, and despite my best intentions, the sound sends an unwanted shiver down my spine.
The unspoken weight of our past settles between us. One night. One mistake. One perfect, terrible, unforgettable mistake.
I bite the inside of my cheek, grounding myself. “So, Dominic Hawthorne attends charity galas now?” I aim for indifference, but my voice comes out breathless, almost accusing.
“Apparently.” I can hear the smirk in his voice, even in the dark. “I was coerced.”
“Of course you were.” I fold my arms across my chest, forcing myself to breathe evenly. The air is thick, charged. “That explains why you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”
A beat of silence. Then?—
“And yet, here I am.”
The way he says it sends heat crawling up my neck. I shake my head. I can’t let him get to me. Not again. Not after what happened.
“The universe must have a twisted sense of humor.”
“Or maybe it just wanted to remind you of unfinished business.” His words land like a sledgehammer.
I swallow hard. “There is no unfinished business.”
A step. He moves infinitesimally closer, close enough that I feel the whisper of his breath against my skin.
“Are you sure about that?”
The question is a direct hit, an arrow straight through my chest. My mouth parts, but no words come.
Then the lights flicker back on.
A murmur ripples through the ballroom as startled guests blink at the sudden brightness, adjusting to the restored glow of the chandeliers. But all I see is him.
Dominic.
His impossibly blue eyes lock onto mine, the sharp cut of his jaw tense, his expression unreadable. He’s looking at me like he’s seeing something he shouldn’t.
I take a step back, breaking whatever invisible tether had snapped between us. But it’s too late.
We’re too close.
The hum of the gala fades into the background, the world narrowing down to just him and me.
“I have to go,” I blurt out, my voice sharper than I intend. Before he can stop me, my hospital pager vibrates against my hip, the flashing red numbers sending a jolt of urgency through me.
Emergency.
His brow furrows as he glances at the screen. “You’re still working ridiculous hours, I see.”
I ignore the comment, my brain already shifting into professional mode. I move past him, but as I brush by, his fingers graze my wrist—a barely-there touch, but enough to send static coursing through my skin.
“Amelia,” he says, his voice lower, rougher.
I hesitate. Just for a second.
Then I pull away.
Because I have to.
Because if I don’t, I’ll start remembering things I have no business remembering.
The warmth of his touch. The way he looked at me that night. The way I felt when I left.
I swallow hard, ignoring the tightness in my throat. “Goodbye, Dominic.”
I don’t look back. I don’t hesitate.
I just leave, walking away from Dominic Hawthorne for the second time in my life.
The tension coils inside me long after I step outside into the crisp night air. The city lights blur past as I rush toward my car, my mind whirring with everything I shouldn’t be thinking about.
Dominic.
His hands. His lips. The fire in his eyes.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a brief moment before snapping my seatbelt into place and pressing the ignition button. My hands tighten around the steering wheel as I accelerate onto the main road, my pager vibrating against my hip again.
Work. Focus. I force my thoughts away from Dominic and onto the hospital, onto the only thing that makes sense.
By the time I arrive, I’m all business. I race to the lockers to grab my gear and change out of my dress and shoes. The chaos of the emergency room is grounding, familiar. I slip into my role effortlessly, pushing distractions aside.
But somewhere between checking charts and issuing orders, a deep voice drifts into my mind, unbidden. I shouldn’t be thinking about him. Not now. Not ever.
Are you sure about that?
Damn him.
Hours later, after an exhausting shift, I finally take a break. I sink into a chair in the staff lounge, rubbing my temples. A knock at the break room door startles me. I glance up, expecting a nurse. Maybe another doctor.
Instead, I freeze.
Dominic.
Standing in the doorway, a coffee in one hand, an unreadable expression on his face.
I blink, convinced I’m hallucinating. “What—what are you doing here?”
He steps inside as if he belongs here, completely unfazed by the sterile walls around him. “Your shift isn’t over, is it?”
I straighten. “That’s none of your business.”
His gaze flicks over me, taking in the exhaustion I can’t quite hide. “You didn’t eat dinner.”
I stare at him. “How would you know that?”
He shrugs, setting the coffee down in front of me. “I’m sure you always skip meals when you’re stressed.”
My heart stutters. How could he know that about me.
I push the coffee away, but not before I catch the smallest flicker of something in his eyes. “This doesn’t change anything.”
His smirk is slow, knowing. “We’ll see.”
And just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving me staring after him, my pulse thundering in my ears.
I don’t know why he’s here, why he sought me out.
But one thing is suddenly, glaringly clear.
This isn’t over.
And I don’t know if I want it to be.
The scent of his coffee lingers, and for the first time all night, I actually sit back in my chair break down and drink the coffee and exhale slowly.
The night shift is far from over.
But something tells me Dominic Hawthorne is a distraction I won’t be able to shake.
Because the worst part isn’t that he showed up.
It’s that a part of me was hoping he would.
And that terrifies me more than anything else.