Chapter 3 – Dinner and Desire
1234 Words
Sofia had been to her fair share of high-end dinners, but this one felt like a performance. Except tonight, she wasn’t sure if she was acting—or falling into something far more dangerous.
The private dining room at Terra Lux, one of Manila’s most exclusive rooftop restaurants, shimmered with soft golden light. The skyline stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows in sweeping blues and silvers, a mirror of the polished city life they both lived in but didn’t quite belong to.
Dominic was already seated at the table when she arrived, crisp in a navy suit, his hair slicked back with purpose but just messy enough to hint at danger. He looked up when she entered, and for a brief second, the air tightened between them.
Sofia wore a fitted black dress that hugged every curve unapologetically. Thin straps over her shoulders, an open back, and a slit high enough to threaten distraction.
His eyes tracked her like she was the only thing in the room.
"You clean up well," he said, rising as she approached.
She smirked. “You say that like you’re surprised.”
“I’m not. Just impressed.”
Sofia sat, crossing her legs slowly, deliberately. “So… first public appearance. You nervous?”
“Terrified,” Dominic deadpanned. “I’m known to c***k under pressure.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled. Their waiter arrived with wine, the vintage so rare she barely recognized the label. Of course he’d pick something expensive, intimate, and disarming.
“You do realize,” she said as their glasses were poured, “that dinners like this are how real couples start.”
Dominic held her gaze. “Is that what we’re doing?”
The question sat between them like an invitation.
She didn’t answer.
***
The first half of dinner passed in low, warm conversation—casual enough to feel safe, flirtatious enough to keep the air buzzing. Dominic asked about her work in brand strategy; Sofia asked about his firm’s latest corporate drama. They talked about music. Art. Books.
And yet, underneath it all, the way he looked at her was anything but casual.
His attention never wandered. When she spoke, he listened. Not just nodded—listened, as though decoding every word and every pause. And when she laughed—genuinely, caught off guard by one of his drier-than-sand remarks—his lips twitched in a way that wasn’t performance at all.
It was too real. Too dangerous.
Sofia wasn’t a stranger to attraction. But this wasn’t about looks. This was about pull. And Dominic Blackwell had gravity.
"You’re quiet," he said as dessert was cleared.
“I’m thinking.”
He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. “About what?”
“About how easy this is.”
His brow lifted.
“You and me. This.” She gestured vaguely at the space between them. “It’s too easy. Like it’s not fake.”
He didn’t answer right away. He studied her. Eyes sharp. Mouth soft.
“Maybe we’re just good at pretending,” he said finally.
“Or maybe,” she murmured, “we’re not pretending anymore.”
Silence.
Then the buzz of her phone lit up the table between them.
She didn’t look, but Dominic did.
“Is that your ex again?”
“No. It’s Camille. My sister. She wants proof.”
He raised a brow. “Of?”
“That I’m not being dramatic. That you’re actually real and not a paid actor.” She gave him a dry look. “That this isn’t some elaborate fantasy I’m having.”
He reached for her phone.
Sofia froze. “What are you—?”
He opened the camera. Flipped it. Turned it on them.
And then he slid his chair closer. Way too close.
“Smile,” he said.
But he didn’t just smile. He slipped an arm around her waist—low, possessive, almost scandalous—and pulled her into him. His breath touched her temple as he leaned in, slow and close.
She could feel the heat of his chest through her dress. Could feel the scrape of his jaw against her skin.
“Dominic…” she whispered.
He clicked the photo.
But he didn’t move.
“I’m supposed to look like I want you,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I think I’m doing a convincing job.”
Her breath hitched. “I think… you’re overdoing it.”
He turned slightly, mouth near hers now. “Am I?”
She should’ve pulled back. Should’ve made a joke. But her hands betrayed her, clinging softly to the front of his shirt as if drawn by gravity again.
She looked up at him.
And he kissed her.
***
It was soft at first. Barely a press. But when she didn’t pull away—when her lips parted just slightly—Dominic deepened it. His hand slid from her waist to the nape of her neck, fingers threading into her hair. She gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound like it belonged to him.
The kiss was heat. Hunger. A c***k in the rules.
They weren’t pretending anymore.
Sofia didn’t know who moved first, but the kiss didn’t end at the table. They were in the elevator within minutes, silence crackling between them, hearts thudding. Dominic’s hotel suite was just one floor up—a detail she hadn’t asked about until now.
The doors closed.
He turned to her.
And just as he stepped forward, she stopped him.
“Dominic…”
He paused. Waiting.
She looked up, breathless. “If we cross this line…”
“We already did.”
And he kissed her again.
***
Inside the suite, it was chaos.
Lips against skin. Hands under fabric. Her back hit the wall, then the bed. His mouth was at her throat, her shoulder, the curve of her breast.
Sofia moaned, low and guttural, as his hands traveled down her thighs and pushed the slit of her dress open farther.
“Tell me to stop,” he growled, voice ragged.
She didn’t.
She arched up into him, pulling him closer, her nails dragging down his back as he kissed her like he wanted to own every inch.
Clothes fell away. Hers first. Then his shirt. Then everything else.
Dominic looked down at her like she was art.
“You’re dangerous,” he whispered.
“You kissed me first,” she whispered back.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “And I’m never going to forget it.”
And then he was on her. In her. Moving with a rhythm that matched the storm between them.
There was no pretending now.
No pact.
Just heat. Skin. And a hunger neither of them could name.
***
Afterward, the silence was different.
Sofia lay tangled in sheets, her head resting on Dominic’s shoulder. His chest rose and fell beneath her ear, slow and steady. His hand traced lazy patterns against her arm.
She could still taste him on her lips. She could still feel his body everywhere.
And still… part of her wanted more.
“What now?” she asked quietly.
Dominic didn’t answer for a long time.
Then he said, “We still fake it. We just fake it harder.”
Sofia smiled against his skin.
But deep down, she knew nothing about tonight had been fake.
Not even a little.
- Writer
