Chapter 4: Dangerous Chemistry
1098 Words
The following morning dawned gray and quiet, casting a soft light across the city below. Sofia Carter sat at the breakfast table alone, her fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee as she stared absently out the window. The gala from the night before played on a loop in her mind—the way the room buzzed with secrets, how people whispered behind wine glasses, and most of all, how Dominic’s hand had hovered just a second too long at the small of her back.
He had looked at her differently last night. Not just as a tool or a pawn, but as something else. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe it was affection—but curiosity? Intrigue?
A flutter of anticipation danced in her stomach. She shook it off.
This wasn’t real.
A marriage built on paper, not emotion. Whatever small moments they shared were meaningless. At least, that’s what she told herself.
She was just finishing her breakfast when Ava, the house manager, approached with a soft knock on the dining room wall.
“Mrs. Stone, Mr. Stone has requested your presence in the gym at ten.”
Sofia blinked. “The gym?”
Ava nodded. “He said you should bring proper attire. Workout clothes. He’ll explain further.”
She furrowed her brow in confusion but headed to her suite, changing into black leggings and a fitted tank top. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and she applied a dab of lip balm, feeling oddly nervous. She wasn’t used to seeing Dominic outside his suit-and-steel world. Did he even sweat?
When she arrived at the private gym, she was surprised by what she saw.
Dominic was dressed in dark athletic wear, punching rhythmically at a boxing bag. His movements were precise, calculated, and powerful. His skin glistened with sweat, and his hair was slightly damp, pushed back from his forehead. She hadn’t seen him like this—raw, physical, alive.
He noticed her and stopped, pulling off the gloves and tossing them on the bench.
“You’re on time,” he said, grabbing a towel.
“Is this some kind of twisted team-building exercise?” she quipped, folding her arms.
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Something like that.”
He tossed her a pair of gloves. She caught them, confused. “You want me to… fight you?”
“No. I want to teach you how to fight.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Dominic approached, the heat from his body radiating across the short distance between them. “Because being associated with me paints a target on your back. People may think you're weak. I want you to be ready in case you ever need to prove them wrong.”
Something tightened in her chest. He wasn’t just being controlling—he was being protective. In his own twisted, emotionally-repressed way.
“I know how to throw a punch,” she said, trying to hide the tremble in her voice.
“Let’s see it.”
She slipped on the gloves and approached the punching bag, throwing a half-hearted jab.
Dominic winced. “That punch couldn't scare a kitten. Try again.”
Sofia narrowed her eyes, reset her stance, and punched harder.
He stepped behind her, reaching around to guide her hands. His chest pressed lightly against her back as he adjusted her grip. “Your stance is too soft. Plant your feet. Twist from the hips. Use your body, not just your arm.”
Her breath caught at how close he was. Every move he made sent a jolt through her. She hated how her skin responded, how her heart raced. He was just showing her technique—not touching her the way a husband would. But her body couldn’t seem to tell the difference.
She threw another punch—stronger this time. The sound of the impact echoed through the room.
“Better,” he said.
They trained for nearly thirty minutes. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her arms ached, but a small part of her enjoyed it—the rush of power, of pushing herself.
When she finally collapsed onto the mat, laughing breathlessly, Dominic handed her a bottle of water.
“You surprise me,” he said, watching her closely.
“How so?”
“I expected you to complain. Whine. Quit.”
Sofia shrugged, taking a long drink. “I’m tougher than I look.”
He nodded, studying her for a moment too long. “Yes, you are.”
Their eyes locked.
It lasted a second. Maybe two.
But it felt like longer.
She could feel the pull—like gravity, silent but insistent. And judging by the tension in his jaw, he felt it too. Yet neither of them moved.
Until he stood abruptly. “I have meetings.”
“Of course you do,” she said, forcing a smile.
He turned and walked toward the exit. Just before he reached the door, he paused.
“You did well today,” he said without turning. Then he disappeared down the hall.
---
The rest of the day passed in a strange haze. Sofia wandered through the penthouse, flipping through books she didn’t read, half-watching movies she didn’t care about. Her body was tired, but her mind was restless.
What was happening between them?
There had been a moment. In the gym. She was sure of it.
Later that night, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, when a knock came at the door. She sat up, startled. Her heart pounded as she crossed the room and opened it.
Dominic stood there, shirtless in lounge pants, looking far too good for midnight.
“Hi,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
She stepped aside, letting him in. He didn’t come far—just stood inside the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
“I wanted to make something clear,” he said. “Last night. The gala. Today at the gym… it doesn’t change anything between us. We have an agreement. A contract. And it stands.”
Sofia swallowed. “Of course.”
But something in her chest cracked.
Dominic hesitated. “I just thought it was better to say it now. Before things get… complicated.”
She nodded slowly. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t fall in love with you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
His eyes flicked to hers, sharp and unreadable. “Good.”
Then he left.
And this time, the silence felt a lot colder.
- Writer
