His Dangerous Obsession

Shadows at Home

(Dominic’s POV)

The bass of the club thudded against my skull, a pounding reminder that I didn’t belong in this place unless it was to make money bleed. I sat in the private lounge, nursing a half empty glass of whiskey, irritation curling through me like smoke. My men had handled business with the rival crew earlier, but the taste of unfinished war still lingered.

I was about to call my manager when Matteo leaned close, whispering something in my ear.

“She’s here. Again.”

I didn’t need clarification. The words alone soured my drink. Her. My son’s mother. A mistake I’d buried years ago, yet one who clawed her way back into my life whenever it suited her.

“She’s waiting at the house,” Matteo added cautiously, gauging my reaction.

My jaw ticked, but I gave a sharp nod and stood, shrugging on my jacket. “Clear my table. I’m done here.”

As I moved through the club, my eyes caught on the bar caught on her. The waitress from last night.

Lisa.

She was moving with the same clumsy rhythm, her hands trembling as she balanced a tray. She didn’t belong here, and yet here she was, forcing herself into the smoke and neon haze. I should’ve looked away, but for a long moment, I didn’t. Something about the way she bit her lip, like she was constantly holding herself together, scratched at me.

Then I pushed the thought aside. I had bigger problems waiting at home.

I left without another glance.

Lisa’s POV

The night felt heavier than the last, my feet blistering inside cheap shoes as I darted between tables. Every laugh, every shove of bills into my hand reminded me that I didn’t fit here. But money was money, and I couldn’t afford to be proud.

Just as I set a tray down, my phone buzzed in my apron pocket.

I froze.

The caller ID made my blood run cold the babysitter.

With shaking fingers, I answered. “Hello?”

“Miss Carter? It’s about Emily. She’s running a dangerously high fever. I’ve already taken her to the hospital. You need to come immediately.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. For a second, I couldn’t breathe.

“I—I’m coming.” My voice cracked as I dropped the phone back into my pocket, abandoning the tray on the counter. My manager yelled something after me, but I didn’t stop. None of it mattered. Only Emily mattered.

Tears blurred my vision as I shoved through the club doors and ran into the night.

(Dominic’s POV)

The mansion was quiet when I arrived, too quiet. I hated it.

I walked inside, loosening my tie, and the silence broke when small footsteps pounded down the staircase. My son. Dark curls, sharp eyes so much of me in his face it hurt.

“Papa!” he said, launching himself into my arms. For a moment, the coldness melted. For a moment, I let myself breathe.

But then she appeared.

Sabrina. The mother of my child, dressed in silk like she still belonged here. She leaned casually against the doorway, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Dominic,” she purred. “We need to talk.”

The warmth drained from me, replaced with steel. I set my son down gently, keeping my eyes locked on her.

“Of course you do,” I muttered, reaching for the whiskey bottle I’d left on the counter earlier.

I poured myself another glass, but as I raised it to my lips, my mind betrayed me with an image I didn’t want.

Her.

The waitress with trembling hands and haunted eyes.

Lisa.

I drank deeper, letting the burn chase her ghost away.

Sabrina didn’t wait for an invitation. She slinked into the living room as if she still owned it, the click of her heels echoing against marble.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, keeping my voice even, though my son was watching us with wide eyes.

“I came to see my son,” she shot back, a touch too sweet. “You can’t keep him locked away in this house like some guarded treasure. He deserves a normal life.”

A bitter laugh tore from my throat. “Normal? With you? You wouldn’t know normal if it slapped you in the face.”

Her smirk faltered. For a second, her polished exterior cracked, revealing the venom beneath. She always knew how to stir my temper, how to chip at the walls I’d built.

My boy tugged at my sleeve. “Papa… don’t fight.”

That was the only thing that made me unclench my fists. I crouched down, ruffling his hair. “Go upstairs, kiddo. I’ll come tuck you in soon.”

He hesitated, looking between us, but I gave him a reassuring nod. Finally, he padded up the stairs, leaving me and Sabrina alone.

The second he was gone, my expression hardened. “You don’t get to waltz in here whenever it suits you. You had your chance. You threw it away.”

“I made mistakes,” she said quickly, stepping closer, her perfume suffocating. “But I can do better. For him. For us.”

Her hand slid up my arm, but I grabbed her wrist before it could reach my chest. My grip was firm, my tone colder than steel.

“There is no us. And if you try to confuse him again with your lies, you’ll regret it.”

For a moment, fire flared in her eyes, then she yanked her hand free with a scoff. “You’ll get tired of playing the brooding monster eventually, Dominic. Then what? Who’s left for you?”

I turned away, pouring another glass of whiskey. Anything to keep my mind from drifting back to the girl at the club.

Lisa.

She didn’t belong in my world. But the thought of her trembling hands, her wide, nervous eyes it slipped in anyway, uninvited.

I drowned it with the burn of liquor, pretending it didn’t mean anything.