17. Dominic #2
“There are different kinds of grief, Dominic. The night you told me about Axel, you were in that armchair, silent, in the dark. But you spoke. You let it out. Me? I’m still in that armchair. Same dark room. I don’t have the words yet.”
She pauses, breathing in. “This version of me, the one sitting in front of you right now — that’s what I’ve got to give. And I swear, I’m here with everything I can offer.”
I nod. “That’s all I need to know. But don’t pretend there’s nothing between us. We both know there is.”
She watches me for a second, then says softly: “And how do you know there’s something here?”
“Because I’ve felt it. In the way you looked at me that night. The way you melted in my arms like you’d been holding your breath for years. Whatever that was, it wasn’t just me. It wasn’t one-sided.”
She doesn’t argue. Only frowns, thoughtful. So, I push gently, teasing the tension away.
“Also, because you said yes to this date. Because you put on that dress knowing exactly what it does to me.”
“I wore this thinking we’d be in public. That you’d want to show me off, and scare off a few gold diggers. I thought it was part of the deal. My role to play.”
I blink once and let that settle. Then give her a dry smile. “Ah. Strategic outfit deployment. And here I was thinking I’d earned it.”
She lifts an eyebrow, a flicker of mischief in her eyes. “But I did hope you’d like it.”
“Welcome back, Sassy,” I murmur, leaning in, heat rising. “By all means, don’t go easy on me. Go on. Challenge me.”
She flinches slightly, caught off guard. Her cheeks flush.
“But if we’re being honest? I’d take you in any dress, or none at all. As long as you’ve got that fire in your eyes when you argue with me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Dominic… I don’t want us to fight. It’s just that…” She exhales, frustrated. “Damn it.”
“Damn it, what?” I ask, leaning in.
She looks at me with a flash of frustration in her eyes. Then it comes out: “Every time we argue, I get all fired up, like my whole body wants you. I try to ignore it, but all I can think about is your hands on me. It’s annoying as hell. But it’s real.”
Her voice is low, barely above a whisper.
The words slip out before she can pull them back.
And fuck, it's like a punch straight to the gut. I go hard in a second, painfully hard. The need is instant, brutal. All of it slams straight to my cock, my jeans suddenly way too tight. Now I’m stuck here with a goddamn situation in my lap while she’s across the table, blushing, and I’ve got zero clue what to do about it.
“Sinner’s mouth finally speaks the truth,” I toss back, grinning.
I reach for her hand. Her pulse is racing. It pulls mine into sync—same rhythm, same charge.
“Careful, baby. If that blush creeps any lower, from your neck to your chest or further down, we’re not making it to dessert.”
She lets out a tiny laugh, flustered, and sure enough the flush deepens across her skin. And right then, Nick appears.
“Good evening,” he greets us, and Lena quickly pulls her hand from mine.
“It would be a shame not to try dessert,” he adds with a sly smile, signaling to the waiter to bring our plates.
“Dominic asked me to choose your menu tonight,” he says, placing the dishes in front of us.
“Wow,” Lena murmurs, eyes wide. “What’s all this?”
“Mrs. Monti, allow me to present tonight’s menu,” Nick says with a gallant smile.
“Call me Lena,” she replies, returning the smile. “After tonight, there’s no way we won’t be good friends. This place is magical.”
“Nick used to work at the hotel,” I explain. “His cooking put us on the map.”
“So why’d you let him go?” she asks, turning to Nick. “Nick, did you run from him?”
“Not at all. We’re partners now,” he replies, casting me a conspiratorial smile. “Dominic said this city deserved a restaurant like this. The rest... just fell into place.”
“You’re being modest. It’s all because of you. Thank you for tonight,” I say, nodding slightly. Nick catches the cue and exits with a bow and a wink.
“Did you really send him away?” Lena asks.
“I already told you. Tonight, I’m not sharing you with anyone.”
She doesn’t answer. She responds with a bite of her lower lip. I watch her fingers slowly trace over her bare thigh. My focus slips. The food is flawless, but it doesn’t touch the hunger I feel for her. She dabs her mouth with a napkin, draws in a breath, and leans back into the cushions.
“This is nice,” she says softly, almost like it surprises her. “I didn’t expect to enjoy it this much. It’s like I forgot how to do this. A real date, I mean.”
She doesn’t say more, turns her gaze out to sea, like the rest of the sentence is playing silently in her head. I refill her glass, letting my hand brush against hers on purpose.
“Sometimes it feels like you’re somewhere else entirely,” I say quietly. “Like your mind’s still off in that busy journalist world. I wanted tonight to bring you back. Here. With me.”
She looks down. Her voice is quieter now. “I’m not used to this. Being seen. Being spoiled. Having someone pay attention. I’m not used to being vulnerable with anyone.”
I stand, slip off my jacket, and drape it over her shoulders. Then I sit beside her, close. She nestles into me, closing the space between us as her fingers wrap around mine.
“I’m not just anyone, Lena. I’m your husband. I’m the man you can lean on fully. You’re the only one who’s seen me bare, body and soul. I have nothing left to hide. I’m yours. What more do you need?”
She lets out a short, ironic laugh.
“The only one? Please. I doubt you’ve ever had a problem being naked in front of a woman.”
She lifts her fingers, mock-counting.
“I mean, I probably couldn’t name them, but I’m sure the list runs close to a hundred.”
Back to sarcasm, her comfort zone. I let her have it. Of course I do. I’ve never been able to deny her anything.
“I’m flattered. If that was meant to sting, it failed. That number’s probably pretty accurate.”
Her eyes widen. “A hundred?!”
I burst out laughing. I can’t help it. She softens, too, then punches my shoulder playfully.
I catch her hand, pull her into my arms, and slide my fingers into her hair.
She melts against me. Our lips find each other, cling, and when I finally kiss her with every ounce of stored-up hunger, she lets out a soft, helpless moan.
My hand drifts to her thigh, finding bare skin where the dress ends.
She shivers. I move slowly, tracing invisible lines with my fingers.
My mouth deepens the kiss, tasting wine and heat and all the want she won’t say out loud.
She pulls away, breathing hard, and sets her lips against my neck.
“Was that the plan? To do it in public, Dominic?”
“We’re married. Technically still on our honeymoon. I doubt anyone minds.”
She leans in, her voice low and urgent. “Let’s go back.”
I grin. “To that enormous bed?”
Her breath catches, but she nods. “Anywhere... somewhere no one can see us.”
Her lips trail down my neck, and her hand presses over mine, guiding it between her thighs. My breath stutters. Her arousal pulses against my palm. One more second of this and I’m losing every last shred of control.
I pull away just enough to breathe. “Okay. That’s it. We’re leaving.”
I toss a few bills on the table for the tips and grab her hand. We step out into the cool night air. Her cheeks are flushed, lips still parted.
Behind us, through the glass, Nick gives a subtle wave from his post. Lena sees it too, and lets out a soft, horrified laugh. “I told you we were being watched.”
I lean in, dropping my voice near her ear. “I made sure to cover you. Still... pretty sure we earned five stars for that live performance.”
She mutters a curse and bumps my shoulder. “You’re the worst.”
“I try.”
I pull her close, wrapping my arms around her. “Let’s walk. The car would take longer, anyway. It’s just us now, out here by the sea. I can hold you. Keep you close. Keep you from drifting off again.”
She smiles and doesn’t argue. Her eyes still flicker between escape and surrender.
“You say it’s a walk but it feels like you’re pulling me in all the way.”
“Can you blame me, baby? I want to fool around a little with my wife.”
We walk wrapped around each other. The sea breeze sweeps over us, cool and salty, sticking to our skin.
I pull her closer and kiss her — slow, deep, unhurried.
Her lips yield. Then her fingers slide under my shirt, undoing buttons one by one.
She strokes my chest, and I shudder. Not from surprise, but from raw, sharpened need.
“This feels so good. But you’re killing me,” I whisper. “We can’t keep doing this here.”
She glances around, a flicker of panic crossing her face.
“We’re not alone,” I say, calm.
“What do you mean?”
“Since Anton, I’ve had people watching us. Quietly. For protection. You don’t see them, but they’re there.”
I turn toward the shadows and raise a hand. One of my men steps out, nods once, then disappears again.
Lena goes still, then flushes hard. Shame and anger tangle in her eyes. “They’re always watching? And you’re telling me now?”
“I was afraid you’d get mad. But I can’t leave you exposed. Please try to understand.”
She studies me for a moment, then slowly nods, muttering, “You’re unbelievable.”
I smile, reaching for her hand again. “You’re adorable when you blush. And dangerously irresistible when you’re like this.”
We hurry back to the hotel, slipping through the back, past the kitchen. She laughs, a soft giggle like a teenager. “Seriously, Monti? You’re almost forty, sneaking around like a teenager.”
“Not quite forty yet. And the teenager part? I can’t help it around you,” I say, pulling her closer.
A staff member nearly bumps into us, looks up, and nods. “Mrs. Monti.”
Lena blushes again, laughing under her breath. “Everyone insists on calling me that. Looks like I’m stuck with the name, huh?”
“Good. It suits you,” I whisper, squeezing her waist.