Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Dominic’s POV

The morning began with the sound of distant thunder.

I stood by the glass wall of the penthouse, watching grey clouds drift slowly across the sky. The city below looked like it had just woken up, cars lazily moving through traffic, lights blinking on inside high-rise buildings, and early joggers darting past corners before the rain arrived.

It was the kind of day that made you want to stay indoors, drink something hot, and keep the world out. I didn’t get many days like that anymore.

Normally, my phone would already be ringing with messages from the council, or my father’s assistant, or someone from the estate asking about some pack-related issue. But for some reason, the line was quiet this morning.

And I wasn’t going to question it.

Eva was still asleep when I walked past her door. I’d seen the light under it go out late last night. She’d stayed up reading some report from the club again. I wasn’t sure when she’d decided she cared this much about my business, but she was good at it. Better than I expected, honestly.

I made coffee for both of us and left hers by the kitchen island. She usually didn’t drink it hot, but it was a quiet gesture—something that had somehow become part of our routine without either of us agreeing to it.

Then I did something I hadn’t done in months.

I went to the gym.

It wasn’t because I was trying to look impressive. I’d just woken up feeling… restless. My muscles ached from sitting through too many council meetings, my head was tight with thoughts I hadn’t sorted yet, and the idea of lifting something heavier than a report file felt refreshing.

The gym was sleek and fully stocked—everything a person could want. Eva once called it “the most intimidating space in the whole penthouse,” and she wasn’t wrong. It had cold, matte walls, floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and not a single ounce of clutter.

I warmed up slowly, starting with stretches before moving to the weights. After a few minutes, the tension in my shoulders started to melt away. The rhythmic pull and release of effort helped keep my mind focused—no thoughts about the pack, or my father, or even the upcoming dinner with her dad.

Just movement.

Just breath.

By the time I was done, I was dripping sweat, shirt clinging to my back, lungs burning just a little—but I felt sharper. Lighter.

I took a cold shower and pulled on a fresh shirt. By then, Eva had finally emerged from her room.

Her hair was messy, and she wore one of those oversized sweaters that made her look half-asleep, but there was a spark in her eyes.

“You were up early,” she said, walking past me to the coffee on the island.

“You were up late,” I replied, sitting on the edge of the counter.

“I was reading,” she said between sips. “One of the bartenders at the club is being overpaid.”

My brows lifted slightly. “You sure?”

She gave me a look. “Do I sound unsure?”

Fair enough.

“Want me to handle it?” I asked.

“No,” she said quickly. “Let me. I already drafted a plan to restructure the shifts. It’ll save on payroll long-term.”

I blinked at her. “Didn’t realize I hired a miracle worker.”

“You didn’t,” she said, smirking. “You’re just lucky I’m around."

Around noon, she disappeared into her room with her tablet and spreadsheets, and I decided to take a short drive across the city to check on the storage warehouse we used for club inventory.

It wasn’t something I usually did myself. We had a manager for that. But my gut told me to go in person—something about those financial discrepancies Elias had pointed out still nagged at me.

The sky had already started to drizzle by the time I arrived. The warehouse stood at the edge of a quieter district—big metal doors, plain walls, and not a single decoration to soften the place. Just practical, dull efficiency.

Inside, it smelled like cardboard and cleaning products. I met with Marcos, the inventory lead, and walked with him down the narrow aisles of stacked boxes.

Most of the items matched the inventory sheets. Bottled liquor, glassware, lighting equipment, branded merchandise.

But it wasn’t until we got to the far left corner that I noticed something odd.

There were three cases marked with the club’s logo that didn’t appear in the digital log. Marcos insisted they were backup stock, but his nervous tone made me raise a brow.

“Send me the intake reports for these three,” I told him. “By tonight.”

“Of course, sir,” he replied, swallowing hard.

I didn’t press him further but I made a note to follow up. If someone was slipping items in or out of our system, I’d find out. The club was more than just a business at this point. It was the one thing that felt like mine—away from the family name, the Alpha responsibilities, and everything else that came with it.

I drove back under a heavier raincloud, windshield wipers moving steadily. When I reached the penthouse again, the air inside felt warmer, calmer.

Eva was sitting on the floor near the coffee table, legs crossed, laptop in front of her, and a pile of small sticky notes spread around like flower petals.

“Don’t say anything,” she said the moment I stepped in. “This is a system.”

I chuckled, toeing off my shoes and walking toward the kitchen. “I wasn’t going to judge.”

“You were,” she said without looking up. “I can feel it.”

“Alright,” I said, pulling out a bottle of water. “I was slightly judging.”

She looked up at me, eyes narrowed in mock offense. “And yet you let me manage your finances. Interesting choice, Dominic.”

I leaned on the counter. “Did you eat?”

“Not yet.”

“Let’s fix that, then.”

I cooked.

Not because I had to impress her, but because it gave me something to do with my hands. I kept it simple—pasta with grilled chicken and a side of roasted vegetables. Nothing complicated.

Eva didn’t offer to help, and I didn’t ask. She just stayed on the floor, reading out a few line items from the report while I stirred the sauce.

It was a quiet rhythm. Domestic, even.

And for a moment, I forgot this was all supposed to be temporary.