Chapter 12 The Door Opens
Alina’s POV
I should leave.
That’s the first coherent thought in my head after Dominic says those words.
And if I don’t want to forget you?
Every survival instinct I have screams at me to walk out of this penthouse before I make an even bigger mistake than I already have. But the problem is Dominic is standing too close, looking at me too intensely, and my body still remembers exactly what it felt like to be touched by him.
I hate that.
I hate that one night with a stranger somehow turned into this mess.
“You’re not saying anything,” he says quietly.
I force myself to breathe normally. “Because there’s nothing to say.”
His eyes stay on mine. “That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.” I tighten my grip on my purse. “You’re marrying my mother. Whatever happened between us should’ve ended that night.”
His jaw flexes slightly at that.
“Should’ve,” he repeats.
I immediately regret saying it because now his expression changes. Something darker slips into his eyes, something too aware, too focused.
Like he noticed the part I didn’t mean to reveal.
Not wanted to end.
Should’ve.
God.
I look away first.
The silence stretches between us, heavy and uncomfortable, and suddenly I become painfully aware of how alone we are up here.
No receptionist.
No mother.
No interruptions.
Just me and the man I absolutely cannot want.
Dominic finally steps back, and somehow the distance helps me breathe again.
“You brought the invitations,” he says.
I nod quickly and hand him the envelope properly this time. “My mother wanted you to approve them before they’re printed.”
He takes it without looking down.
His attention stays on me instead.
“You keep calling her your mother,” he says calmly.
I frown slightly. “Because she is my mother?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
His gaze sharpens. “You keep reminding both of us who she is.”
The accusation in his tone catches me off guard.
“I think someone has to.”
For a second neither of us speaks.
Then Dominic lets out a low breath and walks toward the kitchen area, loosening the top button of his shirt as he moves.
The action shouldn’t affect me.
Unfortunately, it does.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asks.
“No.”
“You answered too fast.”
“Because I’m not staying.”
He glances back at me, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “You’ve been trying to leave since the second you got here.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Not really.”
The honesty in that answer surprises me.
Dominic opens the envelope and pulls out one of the invitations while I remain awkwardly near the entrance trying not to stare at him.
I fail.
Because watching him exist should not be this distracting.
He’s the kind of man who looks controlled even doing something simple like reading paper. Calm. Expensive. Confident.
Meanwhile, I feel like I’m one emotional breakdown away from ruining everybody’s life.
“Your mother likes dramatic fonts,” he says suddenly.
I blink. “What?”
A faint smile appears on his mouth as he holds up the invitation. “This lettering looks like royalty announcing war.”
The laugh escapes before I can stop it.
A real laugh.
And somehow that feels even more dangerous.
Dominic looks at me differently after that. Softer. Like seeing me laugh did something to him.
“She picked them herself,” I admit.
“I can tell.”
“She spent three hours choosing between shades of gold.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It was exhausting. I almost pretended to faint just to leave the store.”
That earns another small smile from him, and the atmosphere shifts slightly.
Lighter.
Which honestly makes things worse.
Because it’s easier to resist tension than comfort.
Easier to avoid a stranger than a man who suddenly feels familiar.
“I didn’t picture you as someone who jokes,” I say before thinking.
Dominic folds the invitation carefully. “And what exactly did you picture me as?”
A problem.
A very attractive problem.
Instead I shrug. “Serious.”
“I am serious.”
“You also just insulted wedding fonts.”
“One personality trait doesn’t cancel out the other.”
I bite back another smile, and immediately his eyes notice.
Of course they do.
“You should do that more often,” he says quietly.
“What?”
“Smile.”
My stomach tightens.
The way he says it feels too personal.
Too intimate.
I clear my throat quickly. “You barely know me.”
His gaze holds mine steadily. “I know enough.”
The room suddenly feels warmer.
I need to redirect this conversation immediately.
“So,” I say quickly, “how did you and my mother even meet?”
Something unreadable crosses his face before he answers.
“Our families knew each other years ago.”
“That sounds vague.”
“It’s supposed to.”
I fold my arms. “Mysterious billionaire answer. Very on brand.”
A quiet laugh leaves him, and for a second I just stare because somehow hearing Dominic laugh feels shocking.
Like he doesn’t do it often.
“You expected me to give you my entire life story?” he asks.
“No, but I expected something less suspicious.”
He walks closer again, slower this time, until there’s only a small distance between us.
“And if I asked about your life?”
I hold his gaze carefully. “What would you want to know?”
“Why you looked sad the first time I saw you.”
The question hits unexpectedly hard.
Because he says it so casually, yet somehow it feels like he saw too much that night.
I look away first.
“That’s personal.”
“So was spending the night together.”
Heat rushes into my face instantly.
“You really need to stop bringing that up.”
“And you really need to stop pretending it didn’t matter.”
My pulse starts racing again.
God, this man is impossible.
“You act very calm for someone in this situation,” I say quietly.
“That’s because panicking won’t fix anything.”
“So you’re just... okay with this?”
His eyes lock onto mine. “No. I’m trying to understand why I can’t stop thinking about you.”
The honesty in his voice completely destroys my ability to respond.
Because I understand that feeling more than I want to admit.
Before I can say anything, my phone suddenly rings.
The sound cuts through the tension instantly.
I grab it too quickly, relieved for the interruption until I see my mother’s name on the screen.
Panic immediately hits me.
Dominic notices the change in my expression.
“Everything okay?”
I answer the call quickly. “Hi, Mom.”
“Did you deliver the invitations?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m almost done with my fitting. Dominic isn’t giving you a hard time, is he?”
I nearly choke.
Dominic watches me carefully while I force out a laugh that sounds painfully fake.
“No. Everything’s fine.”
“You should stay for dinner if he offers. You barely know each other yet.”
My eyes widen immediately.
Absolutely not.
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Nonsense. You’re both important people in my life. Make an effort, sweetheart.”
Before I can argue, she hangs up.
I stare at the phone in horror.
Dominic crosses his arms. “I’m guessing Eleanor volunteered me for something.”
“She thinks I should stay for dinner.”
“And?”
“And absolutely not.”
One corner of his mouth lifts. “You seem very determined to escape me.”
“You seem very determined to make this difficult.”
“I’m not trying to make it difficult.”
I give him a look.
He actually has the audacity to smile slightly.
“You are unbelievable.”
“So I’ve been told.”
I head toward the door before this conversation becomes even more dangerous.
“I should go.”
This time Dominic doesn’t stop me immediately.
But just as I reach for the handle, his voice comes from behind me.
“Alina.”
Something about the way he says my name makes me pause.
I turn slowly.
His expression is calmer now, but his eyes still hold that same intensity that completely ruins my ability to think straight.
“This situation between us,” he says quietly, “I know it’s complicated.”
Complicated feels like an understatement.
“But?” I ask carefully.
“But I don’t regret meeting you.”
My chest tightens painfully.
Because the worst part is...
Neither do I.
And judging by the look in Dominic Vale’s eyes as I walk out of his penthouse, pretending we’re strangers is about to become impossible.