The black Rolls-Royce Ghost purred to a halt outside the restaurant. Aria's pulse raced — nerves, excitement, and the kind of anticipation that made her stomach twist deliciously.
Before she could reach for the handle, the rear door swung open. Dominic was there. Sharp. Immaculate. Dangerous. The midnight suit clung perfectly to his frame, the gray-blue storm of his eyes locking on hers instantly. His smirk was just enough to unnerve her.
"You're late," he said, low and teasing, but the undercurrent of control made her knees weaken.
"I—" she began, but words failed.
He stepped closer, hand extended — not yet touching her, just close enough to make her aware of his presence, of the heat radiating from him.
Her crimson dress caught the dim streetlight as she slid out of the car. It clung to her curves, sculpting her waist and hips, dipping daringly at the back to reveal smooth, elegant skin. Loose waves of glossy hair framed her face; soft wine lipstick completed the effect.
"You're… unforgettable," he murmured.
Aria swallowed. She knew he was right. She felt powerful. Dangerous. Desired. And he knew it too.
Dominic bent slightly, opening the door for her — gallantry and dominance wrapped in a single motion. She slid inside, heart racing, and felt the faintest brush of his hand against hers.
"Red suits you," he whispered, leaning close enough for her to catch his scent.
"I… thank you," she replied softly, trying to appear calm.
"Powerful," he corrected, straightening with that perfect mix of pride and possessiveness.
The driver closed the door quietly, leaving them alone in the luxurious interior.
The city glimmered around them, but all she could see was him.
They arrived at the restaurant, a palace of soft golden light, crystal chandeliers, and quiet jazz. Dominic guided her through the entrance, his hand at the small of her back, leading her like she was claimed property — beautiful, desirable, untouchable… and his.
Every head subtly turned. Not because they were loud — just because power, tension, and chemistry radiated off them like heat.
He seated her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "You're dangerous in red," he murmured, voice low, teasing, deliberate.
"Only if you can handle it," she countered, heart racing.
Course by course, the tension built.
Fingers brushed over the tablecloth, lingering slightly under the guise of reaching for menus.
Every glance he gave her carried unspoken promises.
He leaned just close enough for her to feel his warmth, his breath, his intent — all while the world watched, unaware.
"You're teasing me," he murmured, voice low and rough.
"Am I?" she teased back, letting her hand slide just a little closer.
"Yes," he said, eyes dark, stormy, calculating. "And if this were anywhere but public…"
Her pulse spiked. She didn't need him to finish the sentence. She knew.
Then it happened.
A familiar laugh from a neighboring table. A glance that lingered just a little too long. Someone — maybe from Selene's circle — had noticed him. Or maybe just recognized him.
Dominic's hand moved to cover hers subtly under the table, possessive, protective, claiming her without a word.
Aria's breath caught. Her stomach twisted. The danger only made the fire between them burn hotter.
He leaned slightly toward her, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Relax," he whispered, confident. "I've got you."
She nodded, heart hammering, aware that one wrong move — one recognition — could unravel everything they'd started.
And for a moment, as soft golden light flickered over the table, the quiet jazz hummed, and whispered conversations danced around them…
Aria realized: she was entirely captivated.
And Dominic?
He was already claiming her, in public, in front of everyone, and they both knew the storm of consequences was just beginning.
Because in a restaurant full of eyes, nothing between them was private anymore.
And somewhere, just outside the glow of candlelight, someone was watching.