14. Lena #2
One more try to call Dominic. Still off.
That tight, uneasy feeling creeps in again.
I’ve felt it before — and it’s never nothing.
And no, it’s not jealousy. I mean, it’s not like I ever expected him to stop having sex.
That part was conveniently left out when we drafted our very professional, very fake marriage agreement.
He didn’t ask, and I didn’t bring it up.
I figured the less said, the easier to ignore.
What you don’t know can’t hurt you, right? Except now... it kind of does. I’ve gotten used to his attention. His teasing. That stupid, addictive spark we keep pretending isn’t there. And I don’t want him giving that to someone else. Not because we’re married. Because I don’t want to share.
I get to the hotel fast, a short taxi ride. Finding him, though? That’s a different story. This place is huge, and it’s his turf. He knows every inch of it. If he doesn’t want to be found, I won’t find him. Especially not if he’s with someone.
Right in front of the revolving door, I nearly bump into Mario on his way out.
“Lena! What a coincidence.”
“Hi, Mario. Were you looking for me?”
“No. I had a meeting here. I figured you’d be busy adjusting to your new married status, so I didn’t want to intrude. But… I was kind of hoping you’d reach out.”
I owe Mario the start of my career. And I feel guilty for not making time. I give him a quick hug. “Sorry. Adjusting to this new life hasn’t been easy. A lot’s going on. I’ve been meaning to call.”
“Do you have time now? Let’s talk a bit inside.”
I hesitate. My mind’s on Dominic. But I agree. We sit on a secluded couch in the lounge. He studies me for a moment, like he’s trying to size me up.
“You don’t look like someone who’s settled into this new life.”
“You don’t actually think I’m walking around in pearls and evening gowns, do you? Dominic and I have a modern marriage. He respects that journalism is still my thing. It’s modern. We’re even planning a wedding soon.”
A lie.
“Do you miss the work? You mentioned some kind of moral dilemma.”
“I’ve paused everything. Just for now.”
I’m trying to focus, but my mind keeps circling back to Dominic. Why he’s not picking up? Why no one will tell me anything? Something’s off. Really off.
“Send me what you’ve got,” Mario says, still hopeful. “I’m curious to see if you’re the same. Sharp, methodical. I can help. We can even write it together, if you’re hesitant. I’ll make sure it gets published. I’ve got your back.”
“That would be amazing,” I murmur, already halfway out of the conversation in my head.
Then I suddenly stand. “I’m late, Dominic and I have an event.”
I give him a quick hug and head straight to the front desk.
“Have you seen Dominic?” I ask the group of staff gathered there. “We were supposed to meet here. He’s not answering his phone.”
They freeze for a second. Then the glances start. Quick, loaded, like they’re silently deciding who’s going to lie first. That alone sets me on edge.
“Mrs. Monti… maybe you should talk to Alice. Or Leo.”
No explanation. No effort to reassure me. Just brushing me off. They’re hiding something, and they’re not even trying that hard to make it look good. The silence that follows is thick enough to choke on. And it only makes things worse.
I step aside and call Alice. “I can’t reach Dominic. Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?”
“Hey, don’t stress,” she says, calm as ever. “He has days like this. He’ll explain. Really, Lena, there’s nothing to worry about.”
And just like that, she hangs up, throwing in some excuse about a personal errand. Right. When people tell you too hard and too often that everything’s fine, it rarely is.
I glare at the staff behind the desk. They know something. All of them. And none of them are talking. This damn hotel has a full-blown silence conspiracy going on, and I’m the only one not in on it.
I’ve got one last shot: the hotel bar. I head there fast, feeling their eyes on me. What are they thinking? Poor Mrs. Monti. Already being cheated on. Already losing control.
“Rob,” I say the second I reach the counter. “Dominic asked me to bring him a bottle of his favorite whiskey.”
Please don’t say they warned him .
“I already took it up,” he says. “He barely drinks more than two glasses. He couldn’t have finished it.”
Bingo. A lead . “Maybe he’s with someone. Let’s take it to him together,” I offer, trying to sound casual. Innocent. Like I’m not unraveling inside.
Rob pauses, looking at me a second too long. “You don’t know where the Boss is, do you?”
I don’t answer right away. I just nod, almost ashamed. “Why does everyone keep shutting me out?”
It comes out softer than I expect. Less angry. More tired. Like I’m done guessing.
He sighs, then slides a keycard across the bar. “Room 909. I dropped off the bottle about four hours ago. He’s not leaving until morning.”
I stare at the card. I force the question out, my throat dry. “Is he alone?”
Everything stops for a second. The room. The noise. Even me. I brace myself for the worst. For the woman in his bed, for the confirmation that I’ve been stupid to care.
Rob just holds my gaze. “No,” he says quietly. “He’s with his demons.”
A pause. “It’s that day.”