CHAPTER 7
1141 Words
DOMINIC
I arrived at Luminous Arts Gallery at exactly ten o'clock the next morning. The gallery was in Pike Place Market, tucked between a coffee shop and a bookstore, with large windows that displayed stunning pieces of contemporary art.
I pushed open the door, and a bell chimed softly. The space was beautiful. White walls, polished concrete floors, carefully curated pieces that ranged from abstract paintings to sculptures to photography.
And there, behind a sleek desk, was Sophia.
She was wearing black pants and a cream silk blouse, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Professional. Put together. Nothing like the woman who had knelt for me in leather and lace.
But I knew better. I knew what was underneath all that control.
"Good morning," I said.
She looked up from her computer and stood. "Mr. Sterling. Welcome to Luminous Arts."
"It's Dominic. Please."
"Dominic." She came around the desk. "My father said you're looking for pieces for your apartment?"
"That's the excuse. But we both know why I'm really here."
She glanced toward the back of the gallery. "My assistant is in the office. We need to be careful."
"Then show me the art, and we'll talk while we walk."
She nodded and gestured toward a large abstract painting. "This is one of our newer acquisitions. Oil on canvas by a local artist—"
"I don't care about the art right now, Sophia. I care about you."
She took a breath. "You promised we would just talk."
"And we are. Talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking."
She moved to the next piece, and I followed. To anyone watching, we looked like a dealer and a client having a normal conversation.
"I'm thinking this is a disaster," she said quietly. "I'm thinking you being my father's best friend makes everything impossible."
"Why?"
"Because he trusts you. Because he loves you like a brother. Because finding out about us would devastate him."
"Would it? Or are you projecting your own fears onto him?"
She stopped in front of a sculpture. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means your father is a grown man who understands that you're a grown woman. Yes, he might be surprised. Yes, it might be awkward. But devastated? I don't think so."
"You don't know him like I do."
"I've known William for thirty years, Sophia. I knew him before you were born. And I know he wants you to be happy."
"Happy with someone appropriate. Someone my own age. Not his fifty one year old best friend."
"Fifty two," I corrected. "My birthday was last month. And I don't think William cares about age as much as you think he does. He cares about character. About whether someone treats you well."
She turned to face me. "And you think sneaking around behind his back is treating me well?"
"I think exploring a connection in private until we know if it's something serious is the mature thing to do. There's no point in causing drama over something that might not even work out."
"And if it does work out? Then what?"
"Then we tell him. Together. When we're ready."
She stared at me for a long moment. "You really think this could work?"
"I think it's worth finding out. Don't you?"
Before she could answer, a young woman emerged from the back office. Petite, with red hair and a bright smile.
"Oh, sorry! I didn't realize we had a client. Sophia, do you need me to—"
"It's fine, Emma. This is Dominic Sterling. He's a friend of my father's. Dominic, this is Emma, my assistant."
"Nice to meet you," I said, shaking her hand.
"You too. Let me know if you need anything." Emma disappeared back into the office.
Sophia waited until the door closed, then turned to me. "I need time to think about this."
"How much time?"
"I don't know. This is all happening so fast."
"It doesn't have to. We can take this as slow as you need." I moved closer, lowering my voice. "But Sophia, I'm not walking away. So if you're waiting for me to lose interest or give up, you're going to be disappointed."
"Why me?" she asked. "You could have anyone. Why are you so determined to make this work?"
"Because Saturday night wasn't just a scene for me. It was a connection. The kind I've been looking for my entire life and never found. Not with my ex wife. Not with any of the women I've played with over the years. You." I reached out and touched her hand briefly. "Just you."
Her eyes glistened. "I felt it too."
"Then give us a chance. That's all I'm asking."
She nodded slowly. "Okay. But we take this slow. And we're careful. I won't risk my relationship with my father."
"Agreed."
"And if at any point this feels wrong, we stop. No matter what."
"Agreed."
She took a deep breath. "Okay. So what now?"
"Now you have dinner with me. Tomorrow night. Somewhere quiet where we won't run into anyone from your father's circle."
A small smile played at her lips. "That sounds suspiciously like a date, Mr. Sterling."
"That's because it is, Miss Chen." I pulled out my phone. "Give me your real number. Not the burner."
She hesitated, then rattled off her number. I saved it and called her so she would have mine.
"Tomorrow at seven," I said. "I'll text you the address."
"I'll be there."
"Good girl."
The words were barely a whisper, but I saw the way they affected her. The way her breath hitched. The way her pupils dilated.
She wanted this. Wanted me. As much as I wanted her.
"I should probably actually look at some art," I said. "In case Emma asks what I was interested in."
Sophia laughed, and the sound was like music. "Let me show you what we have."
For the next hour, she walked me through the gallery, explaining each piece with passion and knowledge. I watched her come alive talking about art, and I realized this wasn't just a job for her. This was her dream.
And I wanted to be part of that. Wanted to be part of her world.
I ended up purchasing three pieces. More than I needed, but I wanted to support her business. And maybe I wanted an excuse to see her again when they were delivered.
As I was leaving, I stopped at the door. "Sophia?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for giving this a chance."
"Thank you for not giving up on me."
I walked out into the Seattle drizzle, feeling lighter than I had in years. This was complicated. This was risky. This was potentially a disaster, but it was also the most alive I had felt in decades.
And I wasn't about to let that go.
- Writer
