Try Explaining That
1620 Words
Elena's Point Of View
I turned to Mia, "I really don't know"
"My place at 7?" Mia turned to me.
"Sure " I responded because I knew what she meant— I had some explaining to do.
As we turned to leave I heard footsteps approaching, I turned back and there he was—Domnic Castellano.
His broad shoulders and wide arms looked like they sculpted for seduction.
His curly dark hair matched his dark outfit. His sleeves were rolled up just enough to see his tattoos.
I couldn't help but let my mind drift to that night. That night I let a stranger take control.Maybe because I was drunk or maybe because I was tired of always being the one in control.
I remember his scent. I remember how he made me beg to be touched.
I remember how he made stay on my fours.I remember—
"Ellie!" Mia called dragging me from my wandering thoughts. "What happened?, you've been standing there for an awfully long time".
"Um—nothig" I respond.
"He's gone Ellie, and just a friendly reminder, he's a criminal and you have to remember who your father is".
"What,no!" I quickly reacted " Do you really think I Elena Monroe will fall for a hot, Dominating criminal?"
"I hope not" Ellie said as she turned to leave.
I glanced at the parking lot again. Get yourself together Elena, he's a criminal and nothing more.
" Heyy!" Micheal called out as he walked towards me "you got a minute?"
"Sure" I responded, anything to get my mind together.
"I noticed something strange" he started "When you were interrogating Domnic, do you by chance know him from somewhere?"
Of course he had to be the caring ex-boyfriend." Look Micheal, Mr—I mean Domnic is a a very manipulative person and he was just trying to get under my skin, there's nothing you should be worried about okay?"
"Are you sure?"he said carefully studying me.
"Yes I'm sure." I said, then I turned to leave but then he held me hands and said "in that case you don't mind me asking you out to dinner, just a friendly dinner no strings attached, I promise."
"Oh Micheal" I said while placing my hands on his face "I would love to but I already have plans with Mia." I must say I'm very surprised he asked me this after the way I ended our relationship.
"No problem, tomorrow then" he asked.
"Still busy, but don't worry I'll make out time for you" I said, reaching into my purse for the keys. My fingers were trembling. “Talk later Micheal.”
He didn’t argue, and that alone told me he knew I was lying.
Later that Evening
Aside from the soft purr of the engine and the occasional hoots of angry drivers, all in that ride to Mia's house seemed muted. I had my gaze on the road ahead of me, but my mind ran through every possible ink thought of Dominic's arms and every sentence fitting into that chill, commanding voice: Suzanne's Bar. Only the name made me tie my stomach in knots.
How the devil did he remember me?
Mia's apartment, warm and cozy, with quirky furniture, sarcasm-filled quote-toss pillows, and vanilla candles everywhere. She tossed her bag on the couch and headed straight to the kitchen.
"Wine?" she yelled.
"Whiskey," I replied, taking off my jacket and plopping onto the couch.
"now that's serious," she said and nodded and returned with two glasses actually, one of which was a good deal taller than the usual splash. I appreciated that.
We simply sat there in a silence for a while, that sort where the air's thick with questions trying to burst.
In which event she leaned forward, elbows on knees, looking at me. "Alright, Captain. Spit it out."
I drank the whole burn of the whiskey, tasting it as a diversion. I was going to lie; I was going to say he was bluffing. It wasn't what he said that made it different, though. It was the way he looked at me, like he knew the direction this was all going to take already.
Mia gave me the 'I won't let you wriggle out of this, and you know it' stare.
"I… slept with him," I eventually got to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Finally, the truth," she blinked. "You what?"
I groaned, shoving my hands through my hair. "It was a while ago. I was out one night, off shift. I had some drinks. Alright, too many drinks. I was frustrated, stressed out, and just. sick of being Captain Monroe. I wanted one night to forget it all."
Mia backed away slowly, absorbing it. "And you picked Dominic f*****g Castellano?"
"I didn't choose him," I protested, my flush creeping upward to my cheeks. "I didn't even know his name. He didn't use a last name. Just Dominic. He bought me a drink, and we talked. he was friendly, cryptic. I assumed he was a traveler or an entrepreneur type. I did not inquire."
Mia's jaw dropped into a pout. "Elena. You are a police officer. You read others for a living."
I had thrown myself back onto the couch and groaned. "I know. I was not sane. I just. I had to not be in control once in a while. And he-he knew this. He knew me like an evil book or something."
Then what? she asked, her voice gentler.
I scowled up at the ceiling. "We ended up in a hotel. Intense."
Mia raised one eyebrow.
"No, really intense. He wasn't sweet or soft. He was authoritative. He told me I needed to address him as Mr. Dominic if I wanted to talk. And I did. I didn't even hesitate. I just let him be in total charge."
Mia's eyes widened, but she didn't interrupt.
"I remember how he touched me as if I were his property," I continued, my tone low. "How he made me beg to touch me again. I was on my knees once. On my hands and knees the second time. He knew just what to do to get to me. And I-God-I let him. All the whole minutes of it."
I rubbed my face. "The next morning, I woke up in the bed by myself. He was sleeping, and I just lost it. I grabbed my clothes, sneaked out, and never came back. I didn't even write a note."
Mia leaned forward again, her expression unreadable. "So when he said Suzanne's Bar."
"He knew. The whole time. And that interrogation room? All a setup. He wanted to see me again. Hell, he probably planned it."
Mia was quiet for a second, slurping wine.
"You know this guy's dangerous, right?"
I nodded. "I do."
"And he still draws you?"
"That's the problem," I whispered.
She let go of a sigh. "Fine. Then that's not going to be done the dumb way. No more secrets. If Dominic Castellano so much as takes a breath in your direction again, I want to know. You're a captain, Elena. The face of our unit. You can't let this go out of control."
"I won't," I said, but I wasn't sure I could promise it. Not when even the sound of his voice was making my skin crawl.
"Good," I replied, rising from the floor and walking over to the kitchen. "Because if you fall for that guy, it will be more than just your job in jeopardy."
I eyed my hands, thinking of how hard those muscles had been in that arm, how he regarded me today. I already had an inkling.
My heart might very well be in danger, as well.
Mia returned with a bowl of popcorn, clearly trying to shatter the tension. "I think we should watch something dumb, and you forget all about Mr. Tattoos and Trouble."
I could muster a weak smile and nodded. "Yeah. Sounds good."
But before she could pass me the remote, there was a knock on the door.
Three knocks. Slow. Heavy.
Mia froze.
I blinked, wondering if I'd heard right. "You expecting someone?"
She shook her head, putting the popcorn away. "No. Are you?"
I stood up quietly, reflexively. My hand automatically went to the small of my back in habit, searching for a weapon that wasn't there. I was off-duty. weaponless. My heart increased its tempo.
The knock came again. This time with more force. Louder.
"Mia, don't open it," I instructed her firmly, moving toward the door. "Do you have your spare?"
"In the kitchen drawer," she whispered.
I moved quickly, retrieving it-an old Glock 19, barely used but still functional. I checked the clip. Full.
The knocks stopped.
I paused.
Mia stayed behind me, phone in hand, already dialing the station. Good girl.
I turned the lock and opened the door with the gun up-
But there was no one there.
Just the night air and silence. A gentle breeze blowing over the hallway carpet.
I emerged slowly, scanning left and right. Nothing.
Then I looked down.
There was a white envelope on the welcome mat. No writing. No signature.
I knelt and picked it up. My hands trembled while I opened it slowly.
There was a single photograph inside.
Me. In the hotel bed. Sleeping. Hair splayed out, the white sheet tangled around my waist.
And written across the photo in thick, black ink:
"YOU REMEMBER MORE THAN YOU THINK."
My blood turned to ice.
Behind me, Mia gasped.
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.
But in my head, I heard his voice again—cool, composed, and terrifyingly close.
“This was the only way to reach you, Monroe.”
- Writer
