Chapter 10 : Silent Recognition
Alina’s POV
I spend the entire ride home trying not to think about Dominic.
Which is impossible.
Because my body still remembers the way he looked at me before I left his penthouse. Calm on the outside, completely dangerous underneath. Like he already knew this thing between us wasn’t over no matter how hard I tried pretending otherwise.
And honestly, that’s what scares me most.
Not him.
Not the attraction.
The fact that a part of me doesn’t want it to end.
“You’ve been staring out that window for ten minutes.”
My mother’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts as the car stops at a red light.
I blink quickly. “Sorry.”
“You say sorry every five minutes lately.” She studies me carefully from the passenger seat. “Did something happen at Dominic’s place?”
My stomach tightens immediately.
“No.”
Too fast.
Too defensive.
Her eyebrow lifts slightly. “You know, people usually hesitate before lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Mm-hm.”
I look back out the window before she can read my face any further.
This is becoming exhausting.
Every conversation feels dangerous now because every conversation somehow circles back to Dominic. And the worst part is my mother looks genuinely happy whenever she talks about him.
Happy enough that guilt keeps eating holes through me.
“He liked the invitations?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“That’s all he said?”
“What else was he supposed to say? They’re paper.”
She laughs softly. “You’re in a mood today.”
If only she knew why.
The rest of the drive passes quietly, but the second we get home, my mother disappears into her room still talking about wedding plans while I head straight for mine.
I need space.
Distance.
A new brain preferably.
The second my bedroom door closes behind me, I throw myself onto the bed with a frustrated groan.
This situation is getting worse.
Way worse.
Because now Dominic isn’t just some reckless mistake from one impulsive night. He’s real. Tangible. A man with a face I can’t stop picturing and a voice that keeps replaying inside my head.
A man my mother is going to marry.
God.
I press a pillow over my face dramatically.
“This is karma,” I mumble into the fabric. “I must’ve bullied someone in another life.”
My phone buzzes beside me.
My heart reacts instantly before my brain can stop it.
I already know who it is.
Which honestly says a lot about how bad this has gotten.
I grab the phone slowly.
Unknown Number.
But somehow I know.
And the second I open the message, I’m right.
You left too quickly.
I stare at the screen.
Then immediately throw the phone onto the bed like it personally offended me.
Absolutely not.
No.
This man cannot just casually text me after everything that happened today.
The phone buzzes again.
I ignore it.
Another buzz.
Still ignore it.
Third buzz.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter before snatching it again.
I’m starting to think you actually hate me.
I type back before I can stop myself.
I probably should.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
But you don’t.
My stomach flips annoyingly.
Arrogant.
Completely arrogant.
And somehow that only makes him worse.
I glare at the screen while typing.
You seem very calm for someone texting his fiancée’s daughter.
This time his response takes longer.
When it finally appears, my pulse slows strangely.
I’m not calm, Alina.
The honesty in those words catches me off guard.
I sit up slowly against the headboard.
Before I can respond, another message comes through.
I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do about this.
Something about that makes the tension in my chest shift.
Because suddenly Dominic doesn’t sound like the composed billionaire everybody expects him to be.
He sounds conflicted.
Human.
And that somehow feels more dangerous than his confidence.
I stare at the messages for a long moment before typing carefully.
Maybe we should stop talking altogether.
The reply comes instantly.
Would that work for you?
No.
And judging by the fact that I hesitate, Dominic probably already knows the answer.
I lock my phone instead of replying and toss it onto the nightstand.
Then I immediately hate myself because now I’m thinking about him even harder.
Fantastic.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts.
“Come in,” I call.
My mother walks inside holding two mugs of tea.
“You disappeared suspiciously fast earlier.”
I sit up straighter immediately. “I was tired.”
She hands me one of the mugs before sitting at the edge of the bed.
For a second, neither of us says anything.
Then she smiles softly. “Dominic likes you.”
I nearly choke on tea.
“What?”
“He talks differently around you.”
My pulse starts climbing again. “You barely know him.”
“I know people.” She shrugs lightly. “And I know when someone is trying to make a good impression.”
If only she knew the kind of impression Dominic already made on me.
“He seems... interested in your opinions.”
I stare into my tea carefully. “Maybe he’s just trying to be polite.”
“Maybe.” Her expression turns thoughtful. “Still, I’m glad.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re important to me.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand gently. “I want the two of you to get along.”
Guilt crashes into me so hard I almost feel sick.
Because she’s sitting here trusting me completely while I hide something that could destroy her.
“I should’ve introduced you earlier,” she continues. “You’d probably enjoy each other’s company.”
If she says one more thing, I might actually lose my mind.
“Mom,” I interrupt quickly, “how serious is this? Between you and Dominic?”
She blinks at the sudden question.
“Very serious.”
Something twists painfully inside my chest.
“You really love him?”
Her expression softens immediately.
“I think I could.”
That answer somehow hurts more.
Because this isn’t some casual relationship for her. She’s emotionally invested already.
And meanwhile her fiancé keeps texting me late at night like I’m the woman he actually wants.
I suddenly feel horrible.
Truly horrible.
My mother stands after a few more minutes, completely unaware that she’s emotionally destroying me.
“Well,” she says lightly, “try not to isolate yourself tonight. You’ve been in your head too much lately.”
If only she knew what was inside my head.
The second she leaves the room, I drop back against the pillows with a frustrated groan.
This has to stop.
Before somebody gets hurt.
Before I hurt her.
My phone lights up again.
I shouldn’t check it.
I know I shouldn’t.
But I do anyway.
Dominic you stopped replying.
A few seconds later, another message appears.
Tell me I’m the only one thinking about that night.
My breath catches slightly.
Because he already knows the answer.
And honestly?
That’s the problem.
I stare at the screen while my heart pounds harder and harder against my ribs.
Then finally, against my better judgment, I type back.
You’re not.
The response comes immediately.
Good.
One word.
One stupid word.
Yet somehow it sends heat crawling slowly through my entire body.
I close my eyes briefly.
This is bad.
Very bad.
Because the tension between us is no longer accidental.
And deep down, I’m beginning to realize something terrifying.
Dominic Vale isn’t trying to forget me.
He’s waiting for me to stop pretending I can forget him too.