Here, drink this."
Dominic held out a chilled water bottle, the cap already twisted open.
"Why?" I tried to play it light, forcing a small smile. "I was dealing with some prick who thought networking meant cornering me, not crossing the Sahara."
He didn't laugh. His expression stayed steady, serious, the sharp lines of his jaw unreadable under the ballroom lights. He didn't consider what had just happened a joke.
That was Dominic Sterling. Cool, controlled, composed. Always. But I could see it—the faint flicker of tension in his gaze, the way his voice had dipped when he told that guy to walk away. For a man who never let anything slip, this was his version of showing anger.
I took a sip of the water, wishing it was something stronger.
---
My eyes darted to the glass of amber liquid in his other hand. Whiskey. That was what I needed. "Mind if I have a taste of that instead?"
One of his brows lifted slightly, but he handed it over without hesitation. "Of course. But tell me who that man was. I don't want trouble in my house tonight."
The warmth that rolled through me at his words had nothing to do with the whiskey. My house. My pulse skipped. For all the years I'd known him—from across Emily's dinner table, in quick glances at family gatherings—he'd never spoken to me like this. Not protective. Not focused. Not… as a woman.
I sipped his drink, the burn sliding down my throat and settling low in my belly. The taste of it, the taste of him, made my head spin.
He placed a steady hand at the small of my back and guided me through the throng, away from watchful eyes.
The weight of his palm against my spine nearly undid me. A thousand teenage daydreams came roaring back all at once, hot and reckless.
---
We stopped in a quiet corner, away from the dancers swirling under the chandeliers. My voice wavered as I finally answered him.
"His name's Patrick. He was supposed to be a client—a potential lead for my architecture firm. Instead, he thought a few glasses of champagne gave him permission to get handsy."
Confusion flickered across Dominic's face. "A client did that? Here?"
"Yes." I smirked, trying to defuse the sharp edge in his voice. "Don't worry, I shut him down before you even got here. You just… added the dramatic flair."
The corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile. "I take no amusement in men who think they can touch without consent."
I nodded, warmth tightening in my chest. For years, Dominic had seemed untouchable. A man devoted only to his work, his family, his reputation. But here he was, grounding me with nothing but a steady hand and a voice that could command a room.
And he still didn't know who I was.
---
"Networking gone wrong, then," he said, studying me. "That's what happens when people think business is an excuse for… other things."
I swallowed, staring up at him. He was older. Stronger. Wiser. And yet I didn't feel like a girl in front of him. Not anymore.
"Don't tell me you've never had a woman throw herself at you during one of these things."
His eyes narrowed slightly, the whiskey glass hovering near his lips. "More times than I care to count. But I've never been interested."
That admission shouldn't have made my heart pound. But it did.
---
A laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. "So serious, Dr. Sterling. You make it sound like dating apps and flirty women are sins."
He tilted his head, his gaze sharp. "Apps? No. I've never used them. But parading yourself for approval? That's not my world."
"Different generations," I teased. "When you were my age—"
He groaned, cutting me off. "Don't say that." His chuckle broke the icy edge of his expression for the first time that night. "God, I sound ancient."
The sound of his laugh twisted something deep inside me.
Because the reminder of our age gap didn't make me pull away. It only made me want him more.