Bound To Him

Chapter 3:The Truth Between Us.

Aria's mind scrambled to reassemble itself.

She was still catching her breath, still feeling the phantom pulse of him inside her, still aware of the c*m trickling down her inner thigh as she stood in the office of a man she'd met twenty minutes ago.

Focus. You came here for a reason.

She pulled her skirt down, straightening the fabric with trembling hands. Her blouse was untucked, her blazer askew. She looked thoroughly debauched, and from the way Dominic's eyes roamed over her, he thoroughly approved.

"I don't have a meeting," she admitted.

Dominic's eyebrows rose, but his expression remained calm—curious, even. He had pulled his pants back up but hadn't bothered buttoning them, his shirt hanging open, revealing a strip of toned chest. He leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, regarding her with those piercing green eyes.

"No?"

"No." She swallowed, her throat dry. "My name is Aria Collins. I'm a journalist."

The word hung in the air.

Dominic's smile didn't waver, but something shifted in his gaze—a flicker of wariness, of recalculation. "A journalist."

"Yes."

"From which publication?"

The Chronicle. She almost said it, but stopped herself. That was her regular gig—the respectable one, the one that paid her bills and kept her mother proud.

But she wasn't here for The Chronicle.

"I'm freelance. Investigative."

Dominic's head tilted. "Investigative."

"I've been looking into Vale Industries for the past six months."

Silence.

The air thickened, the warmth of their encounter cooling into something sharper. Dominic's posture didn't change—he still looked relaxed, still leaned against that desk like he had all the time in the world—but his eyes had gone flat. Calculating.

"And what exactly have you found?"

Aria's heart hammered, but she held his gaze. "Enough to know that your company's expansion into the Eastern district isn't what you've been telling the board. Enough to know about the shell corporation in the Caymans. Enough to know about the payments."

She paused, watching his face for any reaction.

He gave her nothing.

"I came here to confront you," she continued, her voice steadier now. "I had a whole script prepared. I was going to sit across from you in some conference room, record the conversation, and get you to slip up on record."

"But instead—"

"Instead I got stuck in traffic. Instead I got turned away by security. Instead you walked in and..." She trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the room, at the rumpled sofa, at the evidence of what they'd just done. "This wasn't part of the plan."

Dominic let out a slow breath. He pushed off from the desk and walked past her, toward the windows. He stood there, hands in his pockets, looking out at the city.

"When did you know?" he asked.

"That you were Dominic Vale? The moment you stepped into the lobby. I've seen your photos. You're hard to miss."

"No." He turned to face her. "When did you know you weren't going to expose me?"

Aria's breath caught.

Because he was right. She had known. Somewhere between the lobby and the elevator, between his hand on her neck and his mouth on hers, she had made a choice. She hadn't come here to sleep with him. She hadn't come here to get distracted.

But she had.

"I don't know," she said honestly.

He studied her for a long moment, then crossed the room toward her. He stopped inches away, close enough that she could smell herself on him, could see the faint sheen of sweat still on his skin.

"Let me tell you what's going to happen now," he said softly.

She braced herself. For threats. For dismissal. For the cold, calculated shutdown she'd seen him deliver in boardrooms from the footage she'd dug up.

"No one else knows you're here," he continued. "You came alone. No backup, no recorder. I checked your bag when you weren't looking."

Her eyes widened. "You—"

"In the lobby. When I took your jacket. I felt the weight of the empty pockets." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You were nervous. Desperate. You came in without a safety net."

Aria felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with her skirt being bunched around her waist minutes ago.

"The payments," he said, "the shell corporation. You're right. I've been funneling money. Illegally."

She stared at him, stunned by the admission.

"But not for profit. For people."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, swiped through a few screens, then handed it to her.

A document. A list of names, dates, amounts. A network of payments—hospitals, shelters, legal defense funds. All in the Eastern district. All funneled through the shell company she had exposed.

"What is this?" she whispered.

"The truth." His eyes met hers. "The district is being evicted systematically. The city council has a deal with a foreign developer. They're going to bulldoze homes, displace families, build luxury condos. I've been buying up buildings under the table, relocating people, funding legal challenges."

He reached over and swiped the screen. Another document appeared—a cease-and-desist order from the city, addressed to Vale Industries.

"If they find out what I'm doing," he said quietly, "they'll shut me down. They'll bury the investigation. And eight thousand people will lose their homes."

Aria looked from the phone to his face, searching for the lie.

She found none.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I've been looking for you."

"What?"

"Six months of digging. You're good, Aria. You left a trail, but you covered your tracks well. I knew someone was sniffing around the shell company. I hired a private investigator to find out who." He paused. "He sent me your photo three days ago."

Her stomach dropped.

"I knew you'd come," he said. "I didn't know when or how, but I knew you'd show up eventually. I was going to intercept you, offer you a deal."

"And instead—"

"Instead I wanted to taste you first."

He stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup her jaw. His thumb traced her lower lip again, softer this time, almost tender.

"I should be furious," he murmured. "You came here to destroy me."

"Yes."

"But you didn't."

"I didn't know."

"You know now." His forehead pressed against hers. "So what are you going to do with it?"

Aria's mind raced. The story she had been chasing for six months had just turned inside out. The villain was a hero. The conspiracy was a rescue mission.

And she had just let him f**k her over his desk.

"I don't know," she admitted.

Dominic's hand slid from her jaw to the back of her neck, pulling her into a slow, deep kiss. Not demanding this time. Questioning.

When he pulled back, his eyes were dark, serious.

"Then stay," he said. "Let me show you. Give me tonight, and in the morning, you can decide."

She should say no. She should walk out of this office, go home, think clearly, write her article—the real one, the one that told the truth.

But his hand was warm on her neck. His body was still close. And she could still feel the ghost of him inside her.

"One night," she said.

Dominic smiled, slow and satisfied.

"One night."