Chapter 48
Chapter 48
Dominic’s POV
It was Saturday. The one day of the week where things were supposed to be slower. Less noise. Fewer calls. Maybe even a moment to catch my breath.
But not in my world. Not anymore.
The moment I stepped out of the shower that morning, my phone lit up with messages—some from the pack council, others from business contacts, and one annoyingly long one from my father with a list of “suggestions” for the dinner that hadn’t even been scheduled yet.
I stared at it all for a long second, then tossed the phone facedown onto the bed.
No. Not today.
I was mentally drained. The weight of taking over the Supreme Alpha position was starting to press harder on my chest. There was always someone watching, waiting for me to act perfectly. Always another person to convince I was capable of filling my father's shoes.
And through it all, Eva surprisingly brought this calmness into my life.
She didn’t ask for attention. She didn’t pressure me. She just… showed up. She took care of things before I even thought to ask. She kept the club running, stayed out of the media spotlight, and never once complained about the pressure of the fake relationship. She even kept track of her own debt and gave them to me without me asking.
It made me feel something I hadn’t expected in this mess. Grateful.
And today, I wanted to do something normal.
So I made a plan.
\---
I found Eva in the living room, curled up on the couch with a thick novel in her hands, one of those romance-thriller types she liked to read when she had free time. Seems like she had a bit of those now that she isn't juggling a lot of work. Her legs were folded underneath her, and her hair was tied up in a messy knot.
She looked… peaceful.
I almost didn’t want to interrupt.
Almost.
“Eva,” I said, and she looked up, blinking as if waking from a dream.
“Yeah?”
“Get dressed. Casual. We’re heading out.”
She furrowed her brows. “Heading out where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
She gave me a skeptical look, marking her page before setting the book down. “Should I be worried?”
I smirked. “Not unless you consider fresh air and zero spreadsheets a threat.”
That got a tiny smile from her. “Alright, alright. Give me fifteen minutes.”
\---
Twenty minutes later, we were in the car—windows down, the city rolling by as I drove us out toward the edge of town.
She glanced at me a few times but didn’t press for answers. That was something I liked about her. She didn’t push too much. She gave space but was still present.
We stopped at a roadside farmer’s market that opened only on weekends. It wasn’t loud or crowded—just a few rows of stalls with fresh fruits, baked goods, and handmade crafts.
Eva stepped out of the car and looked around, her eyes lighting up. “You brought me to a market?”
“Thought you might like it,” I said simply, shoving my hands into my pockets. “You’re always talking about how everything in the fridge tastes too processed.”
She chuckled and shook her head. “I didn’t know you actually listened.”
“I do,” I replied. “Just selectively.”
We walked together through the narrow rows. She stopped to inspect the strawberries, picked out a few ripe ones, then moved on to a small pastry stall where she bought two cinnamon rolls.
We shared one right there, sitting on a bench near a small flower stand. I leaned back, letting the sun warm my face, while she talked about how the smell of cinnamon which reminded me of how soft she could be at times.
We didn’t need conversations today. Just… moments like this.
After we left the market, we drove farther down the highway, until we reached a quiet lake. I’d been here a few times as a kid, even though it was just briefly I knew a bit about this feeling.
We sat on the hood of the car, overlooking the water. Eva pulled her knees up to her chest, her eyes scanning the wide stretch of blue in front of us.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Peaceful.”
“I figured we could both use a bit of that.”
She didn’t say anything for a while. Just let the wind tangle through her hair.
Then, softly, “I went to see my dad yesterday.”
I turned slightly toward her, listening.
“He looked better than usual,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “He was outside, sitting in the hospital garden, talking to some of the workers like he wasn’t hooked up to machines just last week.”
“That’s good,” I said.
She nodded. “I told him about the dinner.”
I raised a brow. “How’d he take it?”
“He took it calmly. Too calmly, if I’m being honest.” She hugged her knees tighter. “He still thinks all of this is real. Us. The wedding. Even though he is still a bit skeptical but he seems to believethe excuse of us being mates. Everything. And every time I look at him, I wonder if he’d be this happy if he knew the truth.”
I looked away, staring at the still water. The guilt was mutual. If father gets to know about this betrayal, it'll make him mad but I don't have time to think now.
Eventually, I stood and stretched. “Come on. Let’s get back before your cinnamon roll melts in the car.”
She laughed—a real, light laugh—and hopped off the hood.
We drove back with the windows down, music playing softly.
\---
That night, after we returned to the penthouse, she was quiet as she unpacked the fruit from the market. She smiled at me when I passed her the water, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
I didn’t push.
Instead, I let her move around the kitchen while I answered a few emails. Later, I found her sitting by the window, a book in her hand again, but she hadn’t flipped the page in over ten minutes.
“You okay?” I asked, walking over to her.
She looked up slowly, then gave me a tired smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
“About the dinner?”
She nodded. “It’s closer now. I can feel it.”
“We’ll handle it,” I said, my voice steady. “And I trust you.”