Chapter Four: Unforgettable
611 Words
(Dominic's POV)
She left me waiting.
No one leaves me waiting.
I should’ve been irritated. Most people who dare walk away from me don’t get a second chance. But instead of anger, all I felt was the pulse of anticipation.
Because I knew she’d come back.
Women like her are too curious for their own good, too proud to admit they’re curious and always come back. And when they do, I make sure they never forget it.
I leaned back in the leather seat, glass in hand, watching the crowd swirl. My security kept their eyes discreetly on me, though none of them would dare interrupt. Not when I was this focused.
Minutes later, I saw her.
Elena.
I didn’t know her name yet, but I’d already branded her with one in my head. She looked like fire and temptation. Like something I wasn’t supposed to touch but would burn for anyway.
Her friend hovered close, whispering urgently, tugging at her wrist, but she shook her off and walked back toward me. Straight spine. Chin lifted. Pretending she wasn’t nervous.
Good. I liked when they pretended.
I stood as she approached, letting my full height dwarf her as she stopped at the table. She didn’t flinch, but I saw her throat move when she swallowed.
“Back,” I said smoothly, my lips curving. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
Her voice was steady, but her hands betrayed her, they clenched tight against her sides. “Maybe I shouldn’t have.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, stepping closer, close enough to smell the faint vanilla clinging to her skin. “But you did.”
Silence. The kind that charged the air between us, thick and dangerous.
I lowered my voice, each word deliberate. “One night.”
Her eyes flickered. “What?”
“One night,” I repeated. “No names. No strings. No future. Just you and me. Tonight.”
Her lips parted, a quick inhale, the kind that told me she’d considered saying no but the word never made it past her tongue.
I could see her calculating, searching for reasons to resist. But there was something in her eyes that betrayed her: hunger. Maybe not for me specifically. But for escape. For freedom. For forgetting.
I leaned in, my mouth inches from hers, though I didn’t kiss her. Not yet. That would be too easy.
“You want control,” I murmured. “But you walked into my world. Here, I make the rules. And I want you.”
Her pulse jumped in her throat. Her lips trembled, just barely. Then, to my surprise, she whispered, “And if I say yes?”
My smirk deepened. “Then I’ll make sure you don’t forget me. Even if you want to.”
The hesitation was brief, but it was there. And then she nodded, almost imperceptibly.
“Yes.”
The word was soft, but it hit me like a gunshot.
My hand brushed against her arm, the first real touch, deliberate and claiming. “Good girl.”
I didn’t wait for second thoughts. I guided her away from the table, past the velvet curtains, into the private elevator that only I had the key to.
The doors slid shut, sealing us off from the world.
She stood against the mirrored wall, chest rising fast, eyes wide but steady on me.
For the first time in years, I felt the loss of control I fought so hard to bury. The urge not just to take, but to devour.
And I knew, before the night was over, she’d learn exactly what it meant to make a deal with me.
- Writer
