Eva

13

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Dominic’s penthouse feels as suffocating as it does expansive—a paradox of glass and marble reflecting the city skyline and his relentless need for control. The tension between us has thickened since the latest breach. As I stand in the middle of his sleek living room, I feel like a bird in a gilded cage.

“You’re staying here,” Dominic says, his tone brooking no argument. He moves across the room with the precision of a chess player anticipating his opponent’s next move. “It’s the only way I can keep you safe.”

“I’m not some damsel in distress,” I snap, crossing my arms. “I can take care of myself.”

He stops in front of me, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. “This isn’t up for debate.”

The sheer arrogance of him sparks my temper, but beneath the frustration, there’s something else—a pull I can’t quite resist. I clench my fists, tamping down the swirl of emotions his presence always seems to ignite.

“It’s dangerous for both of us if I stay,” I argue. “If they’re targeting me to get to you, then—”

“Then it’s better for you to be here where I can control the situation,” he interrupts, his voice sharp. “Do you know how many threats I’ve had to neutralize already? How many people would love to see me fall and would use you as leverage to make it happen?”

I flinch at his words, not because they’re untrue, but because they hit too close to home. I’ve spent years fighting to prove myself, refusing to be anyone’s pawn. And now, here I am, right in the middle of a game I barely understand.

Dominic sighs, running a hand through his dark hair, frustration evident in the sharp lines of his face. “Look, I’m not saying you’re incapable, . I’m saying you’re a target. And until we figure out who’s behind this, staying together is the safest option.”

I don’t like it. I don’t like being boxed in, and I certainly don’t like the idea of relying on Dominic Kane. But the truth is, he’s right. And that’s what scares me most.

“Fine,” I say begrudgingly, dropping onto the plush couch. “But don’t think this means you get to boss me around.”

His lips twitch, the closest thing to a smile I’ve seen from him in days. “Noted.”

The hours that follow are a blur of tension and discovery. We sit at opposite ends of the dining table, a mountain of documents, emails, and financial records spread between us. Dominic dives into the technical details with the same intensity he seems to apply to everything, while I sift through the data with a journalist’s eye.

It’s in the email logs that I notice it—a series of messages sent from Conrad’s company account, flagged as routine correspondence. But there’s nothing routine about the recipient: a shadow account tied to Mercer Industries.

“Look at this,” I say, sliding my laptop toward Dominic. “These emails are masked to look like internal updates, but they’re being sent to Mercer.”

Dominic’s jaw tightens as he reads through the logs. “Conrad.”

“And look at the timing,” I add, pointing to the dates. “Every one of these messages coincides with a major setback for Kane competitors. Failed projects, acquisitions that fell through—it’s too calculated to be a coincidence.”

His expression darkens, the weight of betrayal evident in his features. “If Conrad’s been feeding Mercer information, it explains a lot. But it also means he’s been playing the long game.”

“Which begs the question,” I say, leaning back in my chair, “what’s the endgame?”

Dominic doesn’t answer, his focus shifting back to the screen. I watch him, the tension in his shoulders a stark contrast to the calm confidence he usually exudes. For the first time, I see the cracks in his armor, the pressure threatening to break through.

“Dominic,” I say softly, drawing his attention. “We’ll figure this out.”

His gaze meets mine, and for a moment, I see something vulnerable in his eyes. It’s gone as quickly as it appears, replaced by his usual stoic determination. But it lingers with me, a reminder that even Dominic Kane isn’t invincible.

The night stretches on, the weight of our discoveries hanging heavy in the air. At some point, Dominic disappears into the kitchen, returning with a plate of food he places in front of me without a word.

“I’m not hungry,” I protest, pushing the plate away.

“You haven’t eaten all day,” he counters, his tone firm but not unkind. “You need to keep your strength up.”

It’s a small gesture, but it catches me off guard. For all his gruffness and control, there’s something surprisingly tender about the way he looks after me. I don’t know what to do with it, so I pick up the fork and take a bite, more to appease him than anything else.

Satisfied, he returns to his seat, resuming his search through the financial records. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, noting the way his brows furrow in concentration, the faint lines of exhaustion etched into his face.

“Dominic,” I say after a while, my voice breaking the quiet. “Why do you do it? All of this—Kane Enterprises, the control, the power. What’s it all for?”

He doesn’t look up, but I can tell my question has caught him off guard. “Because I had to,” he says finally. “When you grow up with nothing, you learn quickly that the only person you can rely on is yourself. I built Kane Enterprises because I refused to let anyone have power over me ever again.”

His words hit me harder than I expect, and for a moment, I don’t know how to respond. There’s a rawness to his admission that makes me see him in a new light—not as the untouchable billionaire, but as a man who’s fought tooth and nail for everything he has.

Before I can say anything, Dominic’s phone buzzes, breaking the moment. He answers it immediately, his expression shifting as Adrian’s voice comes through the line.

“What is it?” Dominic asks, his tone sharp.

Adrian’s reply is muffled, but I catch enough to piece it together: a meeting, Mercer, and Conrad.

“When?” Dominic demands, his voice growing colder.

Adrian’s answer is brief, and Dominic ends the call with a curt nod. He turns to me, his expression unreadable. “Adrian found something. Conrad met with Mercer recently—someone high-ranking in the company.”

My pulse quickens. “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re closer to the truth,” he says, his gaze dark and determined. “But it also means we’re running out of time.”

The car hums beneath us as Dominic weaves through the quiet city streets. The golden glow of streetlights reflects off the windshield, casting shifting patterns over his sharp features. His focus on the road is unrelenting, and the tight grip on the steering wheel mirrors the tension rippling through the air between us.

“Do you think Conrad will show up again?” I ask, my voice breaking the silence.

Dominic doesn’t glance my way, his piercing gaze locked on the road ahead. “He has to. Mercer won’t let him disappear entirely—they still need him to complete whatever this is.”

His words settle like a weight in my chest. We’ve unraveled enough to see the edge of the conspiracy, but the full picture remains elusive. Every clue feels like it’s leading us deeper into a labyrinth we might not escape from.

“Why would Conrad risk everything for Mercer?” I wonder aloud.

“Greed, desperation—take your pick,” Dominic replies. “I’ve seen it too many times to count. When people think they’ve been wronged, they’ll do anything to tip the scales back in their favor.”

The edge in his tone is sharper than usual, almost personal. I glance at him, catching the flicker of something darker in his expression.

“And what about you?” I ask softly. “What would you do if someone took everything from you?”

His grip on the wheel tightens, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer. But then his voice cuts through the silence, low and unyielding.

“I’d take it back. By any means necessary.”

A shiver runs down my spine. Dominic Kane isn’t a man who makes empty promises—or threats.

The club looms ahead, a beacon of sleek modernity in the otherwise subdued neighborhood. Its glass facade gleams under the city lights, giving it an almost surreal quality. Dominic parks in a secluded spot near the back, his movements efficient and deliberate.

“We go in quiet,” he says as we step out of the car. “Let them think they still have the upper hand.”

I nod, my heart pounding against my ribs. The recorder tucked into my bag feels like a lifeline, a small assurance that we’re gathering more than just memories from this encounter.

Dominic leads the way, his broad shoulders cutting a commanding figure as we approach the entrance. The glass doors slide open silently, revealing a lavish interior of marble and gold. The air smells faintly of expensive cologne and fresh leather, a sharp contrast to the tension vibrating beneath my skin.

“Adrian’s inside,” Dominic murmurs, his voice low. “He’ll signal if anything changes.”

I glance at him, his jaw tight and his eyes scanning every corner of the room. This isn’t just a business confrontation for him—it’s a battlefield.

We ascend the grand staircase in silence, each step feeling heavier than the last. At the top, the lounge spreads out before us, a space of muted elegance and dim lighting. The low hum of conversation drifts through the air, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses.

Adrian’s voice crackles faintly in Dominic’s earpiece. “They’re in the back, northwest corner. Two men. No obvious backup.”

Dominic gives a subtle nod, his gaze flicking to me. “Stay close. If anything feels off, you leave. No questions.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I reply firmly.

His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he steps forward, his posture exuding confidence as he weaves through the lounge. I follow, my heart racing with every step.

We round a corner, and there they are—Conrad and the Mercer representative, seated at a small, round table near the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city skyline stretches behind them, a glittering backdrop to the tension crackling in the air.

Conrad looks up first, his face blanching when he sees Dominic. His gaze darts to me, then back to Dominic, panic flickering in his eyes.

“Well, well,” Dominic says, his tone laced with cold amusement. “What a coincidence.”

The Mercer representative—tall, sleek, and composed—leans back in his chair, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Mr. Kane,” he says smoothly. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Cut the bullshit,” Dominic snaps, his voice low and lethal. “We both know this isn’t a coincidence. Conrad, you’ve been busy.”

Conrad shifts uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting on the table. “Dominic, it’s not what you think—”

“It’s exactly what I think,” Dominic interrupts, his gaze boring into Conrad. “You’ve been selling me out to Mercer for months. Feeding them intel, sabotaging my company, undermining everything I’ve built. Don’t insult me by pretending otherwise.”

The Mercer representative chuckles, the sound cold and calculating. “Bold accusations, Mr. Kane. But where’s your proof?”

Dominic steps closer, his presence dominating the space. “I don’t need proof to know you’re behind this. But trust me, I’ll get it. And when I do, you’ll wish you’d never set foot in my orbit.”

The man’s smirk doesn’t waver, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—wariness, perhaps, or recognition of the storm brewing in front of him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” the man says. “But you’re too late. The wheels are already in motion. There’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

Dominic leans in, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “Watch me.”

The conversation is cut short by the sound of footsteps approaching. Dominic tenses, his body moving instinctively in front of me. A guard appears at the edge of the lounge, his expression unreadable as he scans the room.

“Time’s up,” the Mercer representative says, rising from his chair. “I’d suggest you leave while you still can.”

But Dominic doesn’t move. Instead, he pulls out his phone, holding it up for the man to see. “I already have what I need,” he says.

The Mercer representative’s smirk falters for the first time, his eyes narrowing as he looks at the device. “What did you do?”

Dominic’s smile is cold and sharp. “Insurance.”

The tension in the room is electric, the kind that could explode at any moment. The guard takes a step forward, his hand hovering near his holster.

“We should go,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

Dominic nods, his hand brushing against mine as he turns toward the exit. “Stay close.”

The walk back to the car feels like a sprint through enemy territory. Every shadow, every noise sets my nerves on edge. But Dominic’s presence is steady, a grounding force as we move through the night.

As we slide into the car, his phone buzzes again. He glances at the screen, his expression darkening.

“What is it?” I ask, dread coiling in my stomach.

He hands me the phone, the message glaring back at me in bold, taunting letters:

“You can’t win a game you don’t understand.”

The car falls silent, the weight of the threat pressing down on us like a vice.

“They’re trying to rattle us,” Dominic says finally, his voice steely. “But they’ve underestimated one thing.”

“What’s that?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looks at me, his blue eyes burning with determination. “I don’t lose.”