Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Dominic

T he door slammed shut behind me with a resonance that echoed through the foyer, mirroring the turmoil churning within my chest. Shadows clung to the corners of the spacious room, offering a grim welcome as I shed the mask of control that I wore like armor. The night had been a chess match played in the underbelly of the city, and unseen hands had moved their pawns forward, encroaching on territory that was mine by right and blood.

"Dominic," my father's voice cut through the silence, his figure emerging from the study, an imposing silhouette against the flicker of a dying fire.

"Father." My greeting was terse as I approached him, my steps deliberate on the cold marble floor. We stood eye to eye, two generals surveying a battlefield strewn with invisible bodies.

"They're testing us," he said, his tone measured, but beneath it lay an undercurrent of tension. "The men at the club tonight, they weren't there for a casual takeover. They're probing for weaknesses."

"Let them probe," I replied, the edge in my voice sharp as a blade. "They'll find none." But doubt, like a persistent weed, gnawed at my confidence. This was more than a mere skirmish—it was a prelude to war.

"Be vigilant. You have more to lose now." His gaze, heavy with unspoken meaning, shifted past me, a silent nod to the existence of Alexa, my unexpected vulnerability.

"I am always vigilant," I assured him, though the image of Alexa's bright-blue eyes, too innocent for this world of ours, flickered unbidden across my mind.

"Good." His pause was laden with the weight of unsaid farewells. Then he placed a hand on my shoulder, the brief contact a rare gesture of paternal concern before he retreated.

Left alone amid the quiet grandeur of the house that was both fortress and prison, I expelled a breath. The need to see Alexa, to reassure myself of her safety, propelled me upstairs.

Alexa sat on the bed, her blond hair a halo of light against the dark fabric of the duvet, her lips a dash of defiance with its touch of red.

"Dominic," Alexa's voice embraced me with its warmth, the gentle cadence a balm to the night's abrasiveness.

"Alexa," I said as I crossed the threshold, leaving the darkness behind. Her presence was a reminder of all that was pure, a reminder of the dichotomy of our worlds. Yet in this moment, she was my anchor, the single good thing in a sea of malice. And as the door clicked shut, sealing away the threats lurking in the shadows, I vowed to protect this sliver of light, no matter the cost.

She surged toward me, the distance evaporating under the force of her need. Her arms wrapped around my neck as if they could banish the night's chaos with their embrace. Alexa's kiss was fierce, a tempestuous clash of lips and teeth that spoke of fear, relief, and unspoken apologies.

Her fingers traced the tense line of my jaw, mapping the contours of stress and silent fury.

"Alexa," I murmured against her skin, my hands finding the small of her back, pulling her closer. The scent of her hair intoxicated me, a floral note that became my lifeline. With every fiber of my being screaming to right the wrongs of the evening, I sought redemption in the only way I knew how—in the union of our bodies.

I lifted her with ease, the strength in my arms a testament to veiled threats and concealed vulnerabilities. The bed accepted her weight as I laid her down gently, a contrast to the storm of emotions raging within me. My lips found hers again, a tender yet desperate gesture, an apology for the darkness that enveloped my world—our world.

"Forgive me," I whispered into the softness of her neck, then I positioned myself above her, my gaze locked on to the ocean of blue in her eyes.

"There's nothing to forgive," Alexa replied, her sincerity piercing through the shadows that clung to my soul. And as I entered her, the world reduced to the points where our bodies met, the rest was smoke and mirrors, an illusion of power and control.