Elijah sat on the edge of Dominic's bed, staring blankly at the floor. His heartbeat was still uneven, his body tense from what had just happened.
Vincent's interruption had been enough to give him space, but not enough to erase the intensity of Dominic's presence. That man… that dangerous, possessive man… was playing with fire, and Elijah wasn't sure if he wanted to escape or let himself burn.
The silence between them was deafening. Dominic stood near the window, his back to Elijah, his shoulders stiff. Something was off.
"You're awfully quiet," Elijah muttered, trying to sound indifferent.
Dominic exhaled a slow breath, still not looking at him. "Vincent shouldn't have walked in."
Elijah scoffed. "Yeah? Well, maybe he saved me from making a big mistake."
That got Dominic's attention. In a flash, he turned, dark eyes locking onto Elijah with something dangerous brewing beneath.
"A mistake?" Dominic echoed, stepping closer. "That's what you call this?"
Elijah tensed, but he refused to back down. "I don't belong to you, Dominic."
Dominic smirked, but it wasn't amusement—it was something darker. Something unhinged.
"Say that again." His voice was low, warning.
Elijah swallowed hard. This was a dangerous game. He knew Dominic's temper, and he knew pushing him like this could only end in one way.
Yet, he couldn't stop himself.
"I. Don't. Belong. To—"
Dominic grabbed Elijah's jaw, tilting his head up sharply. "Lie to yourself all you want, but don't lie to me."
Elijah's breath hitched. Dominic was too close, his presence suffocating. He could feel the heat radiating off his body, could smell the faint mix of whiskey and smoke on his breath.
And the worst part? It wasn't fear that made Elijah's pulse race—it was something else entirely.
Dominic must have seen it too, because his grip loosened, fingers brushing against Elijah's skin almost tenderly. The change was so sudden, so unexpected, that Elijah felt himself falter.
"Tell me," Dominic murmured, voice softer now, but no less dangerous. "When you think of me… do you really feel nothing?"
Elijah clenched his fists. "That's not the point."
Dominic chuckled, low and knowing. "Oh, but it is."
Their gazes locked, and for a moment, Elijah felt like he was standing on the edge of something irreversible.
Then, before Dominic could press further, the sound of his phone vibrating on the table cut through the tension.
Dominic hesitated, then sighed and stepped away. The moment shattered.
Elijah exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. He had barely regained his composure when Dominic answered the call.
"What?" Dominic's voice was sharp. Whoever was on the other end had already pissed him off.
Elijah watched as Dominic's expression darkened, his grip tightening around the phone.
"When?" A pause. Then Dominic's jaw clenched. "I'll be there."
He ended the call and turned to Elijah, his entire demeanor shifting. Serious. Cold. Deadly.
"You're staying here," Dominic said.
Elijah frowned. "What?"
Dominic grabbed his coat, striding toward the door. "Matteo just made his first move."
---
Meanwhile…
Matteo Romano leaned back in his chair, swirling a glass of wine in his hand. Across from him, one of his men stood, shifting nervously under his gaze.
"So," Matteo drawled, "Dominic took the bait?"
The man nodded. "Yes, boss. He's on his way."
Matteo smirked. Perfect.
His eyes flickered toward the small envelope on the table. Inside was a picture—one that would undoubtedly push Dominic over the edge.
A picture of Elijah.
Alone.
At a bar.
And standing dangerously close to Matteo himself.
Matteo chuckled, taking a slow sip of his wine. "Let the games begin."
---