7. Lena
Lena
W e step into Dominic’s apartment. I’ve got one suitcase in hand, while a friendly hotel staffer follows behind with a cart stacked with a few more.
He leaves them in the middle of the living room.
Dominic gives him a quick nod of thanks and shuts the door behind him, still on the phone.
He hasn’t stopped talking since we left my place—Gabriel, Damien, Leo, Alice.
.. Catching up. Delegating. Commanding. Not once has he acknowledged me.
I didn’t mind. I needed the silence to try to process this whole day.
This morning, my life was mine. By evening, it belonged to something else entirely. I’m engaged, somehow, and everyone in the city knows it. My apartment’s been broken into, my laptop’s gone, and I’m moving in with my soon-to-be fake husband. A man I haven’t even discussed living arrangements with.
Dominic finally hangs up and turns to me, grinning. He gently wraps an arm around my shoulders.
“All done, Sassy. You’re safe now. It’s going to be okay.”
I frown. “Do I need to come up with a nickname for you just to make you stop calling me that?”
He chuckles. “Oh, good. You’ve still got some bite. I was starting to worry I’d lost you under all the shock.”
Then he slips the bag off my shoulder and gestures around us with dramatic flair. “Welcome. Let me give you the grand tour of our apartment.”
“We’re staying here? I thought it was just for tonight. Don’t you have, like, an actual house?”
“I own a bunch of properties, each with a different purpose. But for day-to-day living, sleeping, eating, existing, it all happens right here, in this hotel. It’s convenient. My office is on the first floor, you’ve seen it. It’s massive. I spend most of my time there.”
As he talks, he moves through the space, sweeping a hand around like he’s showing off something he built himself. His eyes flick around the room, taking in the walls, windows, furniture, and there’s something almost boyish in how proud he looks to be sharing it.
“This apartment, it’s pure comfort. Breathtaking view, second-highest floor, full access to hotel services. Trust me, you’ll love it.”
He gets that little spark in his eyes as he talks, all proud and in his element.
Host of the century, I think, half-smiling.
He does love showing off his castle. He gives me a gentle push forward, guiding me deeper into the apartment.
Then he takes my hand, eager, a little impatient, and heads toward one of the doors.
My eyes sweep across the space: pristine white walls, sleek furniture, massive windows framing a city that glows softly under the night lights.
It feels expensive in a subtle way, and obsessive neatness presses against me, like I don’t quite belong here.
To the left, there’s a modern kitchen island and a small, cozy dining area.
It all looks lived-in just enough to be comfortable, but not enough to suggest he’s here often.
I pause for a second when I spot a corner shelf with a few books and some delicate model boats.
There’s also a simple vase filled with fresh flowers, probably replaced daily by the hotel staff.
That detail softens the space a bit. I still don’t get why he chooses to live here.
The place feels more like a high-end suite than an actual home. He could have a mansion. Anywhere.
“You look confused,” Dominic says, catching the expression on my face. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing,” I say, forcing a little smile to keep it light. “I was just thinking... someone like you, a billionaire, I figured you’d have a giant private house somewhere. Not an apartment in a hotel. With tourists. And paparazzi.”
I let the words hang, trying to bury my unease under a layer of sarcasm.
I walk over to the bookshelf, running my fingers lightly along the spine of a book. I like that he reads. It’s a pleasant surprise.
Dominic turns toward the window, his voice dipping just a bit more serious now.
“This isn’t just any hotel, Lena. No one gets in without my permission. It’s the most private place I’ve got. And before you even ask, no, I’ve never shared it with anyone else. It’s always been just mine. Now it’s ours. Starting tonight.”
I shoot him a skeptical look. But that casually thrown ours sticks with me, lingering a little too long.
“You’re full of surprises, Dominic. I just hope you got the message about the guest room.”
He grins wider. “Message received. I haven’t become irresistible yet. But give it time.”
Then he opens one of the doors. “This is the main bedroom.”
I stop in the doorway, staring. He glances at me, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s trying hard not to smirk.
The master bedroom takes my breath away.
A knot tightens in my stomach, like I’ve stepped somewhere I’m not supposed to be.
The room is spacious and quietly luxurious, with just enough restraint to feel intentional.
Nothing flashy, but every detail speaks of comfort and care.
Elegant furniture in warm wood, soft neutral tones, and thick curtains dimming the city light. And then the bed. My eyes land on it.
Huge. Immaculate. Soft. Inviting. Intimate in all the wrong ways.
I picture Dominic lying there naked, one arm behind his head, chest bare, stomach flat. That sharp line of muscle disappearing under the sheets. Skin catching the soft light. The sheets rumpled low on his hips. The image is so vivid that it feels like a memory.
A strange warmth crawls up my spine, and I blink hard, trying to chase it away.
He said it’s not the case, but I can’t help myself—how many women have been here before me? How many bodies tangled in these exact sheets?
“You can sleep here. I’ll take the other bedroom,” Dominic says, his voice calm, like he’s offering me a cup of tea, not his bed.
But that huge, perfect bed isn’t for me. It’s too intimate. Too personal. It feels like it belongs to a real couple. Staying here would mean accepting something I’m not ready to accept.
“I want to see the other bedroom,” I say quickly, taking a step back.
I can’t stay here. I need something smaller, a space I can retreat into. A place to work, to breathe, to pretend this whole story isn’t getting under my skin more than it should.
I turn on my heel and bump right into him, solid, warm, and way too close.
My hands brush his chest before I can stop them.
He’s right there, all height and heat, with that quiet intensity he wears like a second skin.
I step back fast, trying to shake it off.
He doesn’t say a word. Just gestures toward another door, across the massive living room.
I head that way without looking at him. I can feel him behind me, just a few paces back, close enough to sense, far enough not to touch.
I reach the door and open it. As soon as I step inside, I feel the tension in my shoulders start to fade.
This room is different, smaller, cozier, closer to what I’d pick for myself if I had a choice.
The bed is just the right size, not tiny, but not the kind you get lost in.
It’s a place to sleep, not disappear. The sheets are soft and simple, no over-the-top luxury screaming for attention.
By the wall, there’s a sleek desk, just enough space for my laptop, a few books…
maybe even a forgotten coffee mug from a long work night.
A small lamp in the corner casts a warm, quiet glow, perfect for evenings when I’m not ready to face the dark.
Built-in closets keep the space clean, and the big windows let in just enough light to make everything feel open and calm.
In here, I can finally breathe. This could be mine. At least for a while.
“This is where I’m staying.” My voice leaves no room for debate.
“Whatever you prefer,” Dominic says, unfazed. “Just so you know, the bathroom’s not en suite, you’ll have to go through the living room. It’s right here.” He points to a closed door a few steps away.
I glance over, mentally measuring the distance. Dominic catches the look on my face.
“Don’t worry,” he says lightly. “We’ll probably be on different schedules. I spend most of my time at the office or the club. I only come up to sleep late. And I wake up just as late. We’ll barely see each other.”
He smiles, trying to reassure me. I turn away and head back into the living room to move my bags.
“Leave that for now.” Dominic’s tone shifts, suddenly serious. He walks over to the table and picks up a document, holding it up.
“What’s that?” I ask, eyeing the papers, not sure what I’m looking at.
“We were supposed to talk tonight about our arrangement. I’m sorry things escalated so fast. The press thing is a total mess. I owe you an apology for that. Alice will help with the messages you’ve been getting.”
“It’s not your fault. It could’ve been Anton… or just some overly eager paparazzo who sold the story. It hit me hard, but I’ll pull myself together.”
He nods, watching me for a beat, gauging whether I mean it, or if I’m just pretending to be okay.
“The lawyers put together a first draft. Do you think you’re up for discussing it?”
“A draft of what?”
“A standard prenup,” Dominic says calmly. “Adjusted for our… less-than-standard situation.”
I glance down at the papers, then back at him. “When exactly did you have time to draft this? I only said yes last night.”
He gives me a look, amused, almost smug, and the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile. This time, he doesn’t bother to hide it.
“You’re kidding,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “You had this ready before I even said yes?”
He shrugs, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I like to be prepared.”