Chapter 5
POV: Ayla
The ballroom broke apart around us.
Gasps. Whispers. A waiter dropped a tray; champagne flashed and fell in slow pieces. For a heartbeat everything else stopped.
Maya stood in the middle of it, stunned. Her mascara ran. Ryan's face went hard with anger. People turned toward us like they smelled the fight.
Dominic's hand found mine and held it like it was nothing. He didn't look at them. He didn't look at Maya. He looked calm, as if this was what he'd planned all along.
"You did this," I said, low.
He only tilted his head. "I keep my promises," he said.
Maya pushed through, her heels sharp on the marble. "Ayla," she said, voice breaking. "You set me up."
I stepped closer. "No," I said. "I stopped pretending."
Ryan made a step but didn't move. He watched Dominic like he wanted to tear him in two. Dominic smiled small, cold. "No," he said softly. "I am powerful. This is restraint."
Security moved in. A man in a black suit reached for his ear. Dominic pressed his thumb against my hand. The man froze and pulled back, as if someone pulled an invisible string.
Maya's voice shook. "What did you promise her?"
Dominic brushed my shoulder very lightly. "More than you ever offered her," he said. It felt like a warning.
They called us scandalous names. They pointed. They took pictures. We left before the last toast. People watched our backs as we walked out—they wanted to see more.
Outside, the night smelled like cold and wet pavement. The city lights slid by. Dominic poured wine in the car. "To clarity," he said, holding his glass up.
I didn't raise mine.
"I didn't know you'd do it in public," I said.
"We play by my rules now," he said simply.
"Why?" I asked. "Why hurt them like that? What did they do to you?"
He looked at the window for a long moment. "That's a story for another night."
At the penthouse, the city felt far away. The house was quiet. I couldn't sleep. I wandered into the study with bare feet. The floor was cold and my hands trembled.
On the desk was a thin black folder. I opened it.
Inside were pictures of me—leaving work, at the café, at my front door the night I found Ryan and Maya together. Notes were stuck between the pictures. Dates. Phone messages printed and taped down. Someone had written small comments beside them.
My mouth went dry. "Why do you have this?" I asked, turning to him.
"I needed to know everything before I came to you," he said quietly. "I watched because I wanted the truth. Pain tells the truth."
"You watched me," I said, and the words sounded small in that room.
He stepped close. "I watched because you're stronger than they let you be," he said. "Don't fall for me, Ayla. This isn't love. It's survival."
"I'm not falling," I said, too quickly.
"Not yet," he said. "But you will."
His phone buzzed on the desk. He glanced down. The color left his face in a slow, heavy way.
"They know," he said. The words were soft and sharp at the same time.
"Who?" I asked. My voice felt thin.
He didn't answer at once. He closed the folder gently, like it might cut if it opened too fast. "They're closer than you think," he said at last. "And they don't care who gets burned."
A cold, tight feeling ran under my skin. The chandeliers had been warm, the ballroom loud—this felt darker. I tried to imagine who "they" were, but the thought only made the room smaller.
He looked at me then, and for a second I saw something I hadn't seen before: not only control, but real worry. Maybe even fear.
I stepped forward. I didn't plan it. I kissed him.
It was quick and fierce and everything at once—anger and dare and a small, dangerous gratitude. His hand came up to my face. For one breath the world narrowed to the taste of him and the steady beat of his palm.
His phone buzzed between us. The screen lit the dark with a message I could not read. Dominic's grip on my cheek tightened, and he didn't look at the phone. He looked toward the door.
Outside the city kept breathing, lights moving on and on. Inside, the study felt like a place waiting. I pulled back from the kiss and we held each other for a moment that felt both like an answer and the start of a problem.
Dominic's voice was low. "Get ready," he said.
The phone buzzed again. The light on the screen blinked, and then everything went quiet but for the sound of our breathing.