Fated Hearts

~chap 5~ Dom De Luca

The sound of his deep, smooth voice startled me. I hadn’t noticed the man standing beside me until he spoke. His tall frame towered over me, exuding an intimidating yet magnetic presence. Startled, I stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over my glass in the process.

“Are you following me?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. My cheeks flushed instantly. It was absurd to accuse a complete stranger of such a thing, but the coincidence of seeing him twice in one day felt uncanny.

Instead of answering, he c****d his head slightly, his piercing green eyes fixed on mine with an amused intensity. “Shouldn’t I be asking you the same thing?” His voice was low, laced with a seductive tone that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.

His height felt overwhelming as he stepped closer, the subtle scent of his cologne wrapping around me. I faltered, suddenly unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry... I just thought—”

“You thought I was following you?” he interrupted smoothly, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Interesting. I assure you, I’m not. But seeing you here...” His eyes flicked to my tear-streaked face. “It makes me curious. Why is someone like you crying so openly by the pool?”

I hesitated, realizing how absurd I must look. His presence made me feel small and self-conscious, but there was no malice in his tone—only intrigue. Embarrassed, I muttered something about needing air and quickly sat back down, willing him to leave. Instead, he remained, a shadow of confidence that refused to be ignored.

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Dominic’s POV

I loosened my tie as I stepped into my villa, the sleek modern design of the space doing little to ease my frustration. The day had been a success—my fifth acquisition secured, shares doubled, and another business added to my ever-growing empire. But despite the triumph, the hollow feeling lingered, as it always did.

Dropping into a chair, I grabbed my phone and called to book a table at the club. I needed a distraction, something to dull the weight of everything I carried. But the manager had the audacity to tell me the night was fully booked. Fully booked.

I stood silently, letting the tension build in the line before replying. “Then make space. Or I’ll make space permanent by buying the entire hotel.” My voice was calm, calculated, and enough to send the message. Minutes later, they assured me everything was sorted.

Before I could leave, my phone rang again. I considered ignoring it until I saw the name flashing on the screen. My father.

“Dominic,” he barked the moment I answered, not even waiting for a greeting. “Have you found her yet?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. “Found who?” I asked flatly, playing dumb even though I knew he meant a wife.

“Don’t play games with me. You know the conditions. Find someone—anyone. Love isn’t important, but marriage is. Secure your legacy and the company’s future. It’s not that complicated.”

The words stirred an old bitterness in me, a resentment that stretched back to my childhood. Love wasn’t important. Marriage was a transaction. My father had always believed that, and he lived it too.

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The first ten years of my life taught me everything I needed to know about love: it didn’t exist. At least, not for people like us. My mother had tried, in her own quiet way, to shield me from the cold reality of my father’s world. But love wasn’t enough to save her from it.

When I turned eleven, she was gone—not by choice, but by force. I was sent to an elite business institution, a place designed to shape boys into heirs, stripping them of anything unnecessary, like emotions. Two years later, I returned home, only to say goodbye to her for good. She was ill, and my father hadn’t even bothered to visit.

At fifteen, I made my first big investment, a deal that cemented my position in the business world. But instead of celebrating with me, my father used the occasion to marry a woman half his age. I stood at the ceremony, numb, watching him parade his new wife like a trophy.

Then there was Draco, my older brother. He had always hated me—for having our mother’s affection and for surpassing him in our father’s eyes. But Draco’s resentment went deeper than that. Born with a kneecap misalignment that left him disabled, he had never been able to stand in the same spotlight I did. I hated my father for pitting us against each other, and Draco hated me for winning a game I never wanted to play.

---

The memories left a familiar bitterness in my mouth as I left for the club. My father’s voice echoed in my mind, pushing me toward something I had no intention of chasing. A wife, a fake marriage, a life built on transactions—just like his.

As I arrived at the hotel, ready to escape my thoughts with a drink, I caught sight of her. The girl from earlier. Alone, by the pool, tears streaking her face.

For a moment, I hesitated, watching her from a distance. Something about the vulnerability in her expression caught me off guard. My plans for the evening shifted. I approached, drawn by a curiosity I couldn’t quite place.