10. Dominic
Dominic
I knew the peace wouldn’t last. We’re on our way to my parents’ house, a massive place tucked inside one of those quiet, upscale neighborhoods just outside the port city.
The kind of area that feels more like a private world than part of the city.
The kind of place where people have gates, gardeners, and god complexes.
This morning at Lena’s felt easy. Warm. Real.
But that calm is already draining out of me the closer we get to their street.
I haven’t slept that well in a long time.
Her mattress was too soft, the sheets a little scratchy, and we kept all our clothes on, but none of that mattered.
At some point during the night, I must’ve pulled her into my arms. She didn’t pull away.
I remember the way her body fit against mine, warm, completely still.
Like she trusted me. Like she felt safe there.
When I woke up, she was gone. I found her outside, barefoot on the porch, coffee mug in hand, talking to that kid—Kai—with the kind of smile that could melt steel.
She blushed when she saw me. I walked over, wrapped my arms around her, and kissed the top of her head.
She leaned into me. Didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back.
That felt... good. Like something shifting in the right direction.
Breakfast with her family was just as lively as dinner, with laughter, noise, too much food, and people who actually wanted to talk to each other.
When we left, a few neighbors and relatives were already out on their porches, waving, calling after us.
One of her aunts, the naughty one, threw me a wink and blew Lena a kiss.
Someone yelled that we should come back for the Sunday barbecue.
It felt warm and real. Effortless. I love that small-town vibe .
And yeah... it already feels far behind me.
I’m not driving fast, even though the car could easily handle it.
I’m in no rush to get there. But we have to do this.
Lena’s quiet in the passenger seat. I can feel the tension radiating off her.
She spent a good chunk of time on the phone with Lexi before we left.
They agreed on dresses after she hit me with a million questions about the Sunday lunch “protocol”, where we’d be eating, what colors my mother likes. ..
Honestly, I’m impressed. She wants to make a good impression. She wants our marriage to seem believable. I’ve told her more than once that my mom will like her exactly as she is. Just be yourself, I said.
What I didn’t say is that my mother would be thrilled if I married whoever I wanted, as long as I’m sure about it.
If it means a wedding and a grandchild sometime soon, she won’t ask questions.
She’s just waiting for me to get on with it.
I called her yesterday, gave her the heads-up: we’re coming for lunch, and I’m bringing someone special .
I’m sure she’s already planning the wedding guest list in her head.
To her, this probably looks like the moment her rebellious son finally gives in. Finally grows up.
And my father? I couldn’t care less what he thinks.
We barely talk, not since he handed off the business and partially retired to spend more time with Mom.
Now we only see each other at board meetings.
Or when there’s a contract to sign in front of the partners.
I let him keep control of the real estate division, but any major project still needs my signature to move forward.
I get it. You don’t go from running empires to gardening overnight.
Whatever his faults, I’ve let them go. I forgave him because he loves my mother deeply.
For a while after we lost Axel, Sunday lunch was non-negotiable.
We all showed up, no excuses. Mostly for her.
Then Violetta got swallowed by residency, with night shifts, back-to-back ER calls, living on caffeine and autopilot.
I started throwing out ' business meetings' and ' client lunch' like they were real reasons. The truth is, I just didn’t want to be there anymore.
It’s been… what, six, seven months since I last set foot in that house?
I still see Mom more than the others; she drops by the hotel sometimes, or we grab coffee and pastries and talk about her charity work.
The rest of the family sort of drifted into this quiet, low-interaction setup.
No more Sunday lunches, no check-ins. It became the norm, and it worked.
Until she told us about the illness. If she’s right…
everything’s going to shift. I haven’t talked to anyone about it.
Not Violetta. Not friends. Not even myself, really.
The whole operation of turning Lena into my wife, even just on paper, has kept me busy enough not to fall apart. And now it’s game time. Time to face the family with Lena at my side.
I buzz the gate. It creaks open, slow and heavy, revealing the long driveway wrapped in trees. The house is still hidden, like it’s doing us a favor. Lena slips off her sunglasses, scanning the place with quiet curiosity. When the house finally comes into view, she lets out a low gasp.
“Dominic, this isn’t a house. It’s a goddamn manor. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Does it matter?” I mutter. “It’s just where they live.”
“You have staff?”
“They do.”
I keep my eyes on the road ahead. “I haven’t actually lived here since I got back from the Navy. I moved out first at eighteen, to a hotel suite, closer to work. Campus after that. I haven’t stayed the night here in years.”
She looks at me like I’ve just said something bizarre.
“What is it, Lena?”
“You gave this up? Voluntarily? I mean… how do you walk away from a place like this and choose an apartment?”
“It’s called freedom. And it’s priceless.”
She doesn’t press further. When I park in the circular driveway out front, she steps out, eyes scanning the house like she’s still trying to process it.
Lena’s wearing this soft blue dress that fits just right, elegant without trying too hard.
She only accepted the bare minimum of my offer to pick out dresses, whether for her new role as Mrs. Monti or as my fiancée, from any boutique in my hotels.
But there’s tension in her shoulders, in the way she fidgets with the strap of her bag.
She walks up the stone path a little too carefully, like she’s not sure she’s allowed to be here.
And still… I can’t stop watching her. The curve of her waist. The quiet strength in the way she carries herself, even when she’s unsure.
It’s all there, contained, but burning under the surface.
Then I catch that flicker of anxiety in her eyes.
The kind of vulnerability she rarely lets anyone see.
It lands harder than I expect. Makes me want to shield her from everything. Even from my own family.
I head to the front door and nod for her to follow. When she reaches me, she slips her hand into mine, no hesitation, and squeezes. I pull her closer, wrap an arm around her shoulders, and press a kiss just below her ear.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “It’s going to be fine.”
And if anyone’s already watching, good, let them see this.
I’m expecting a few snide comments from my father.
He was born into this kind of luxury, old money, old ego.
The house was built by my grandfather. My father took over the business, polished it a bit, and kept the lights on.
That’s about it. I started from the same place, but the Navy, losing Axel…
those things changed me. I came back harder.
More focused. I put in the hours, built something bigger, more ambitious.
Something that actually stands out now. Not because I had to, but because I wasn’t going to waste what I’d been handed.
When my mother opens the door and immediately pulls Lena into a warm hug, it’s exactly what I expected from her.
What I also expected, unfortunately, comes right after.
My father stands a few feet behind her, stiff as ever, watching us with that usual critical stare.
He gives Lena a slow once-over, and I swear, if his gaze lingers even a second too long, I’m going to make damn sure he knows exactly where I draw the line.
“Felicia Monti,” my mother says, pulling Lena in for another hug.
“You’re absolutely stunning, my dear. Welcome to our home.”
Then she turns to me with a playful glare. “Dominic, how long have you been hiding this beauty from us?”
My father makes a face at the comment, then steps forward and sticks out his hand. Lena gives it a light shake.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Monti.”
He gives a slight nod without saying a word.
He can’t even say hello? Just a nod. My whole face goes tight.
The anger settles in. Lena must feel it.
She steps back to my side and squeezes my hand.
The front door opens again. Gabriel and Lexi walk in.
Violetta appears from one of the back rooms. There’s hugging all around.
Mom practically glows as she throws her arms around Gabriel.
Violetta leaps into mine, then hugs Lena with the kind of loud enthusiasm only she can pull off. My mom looks around like this is exactly the scene she’s been hoping for.
My father, on the other hand, keeps disapproving, barely bothering to hide it.
Mom quickly takes over, leading us toward the terrace where we usually eat when the weather’s good.
She’s claimed Lena now, keeping her close with one hand.
Gabriel, brave soldier, stays near them.
He knows he’s Mom favorite, and she’ll lean on him to help make Lena feel welcome.
My father motions for me to hang back, then nods toward his study. Of course. I follow, already knowing what this is. I shut the door behind us. Because in private, my father doesn’t bother with passive aggression, he trades it in for straight-up insults.