(Dominic's POV)
The first thing I reached for was her.
My hand brushed cool sheets instead of warm skin, and my eyes snapped open.
The bed was empty.
For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the faint indent where her body had been. My chest tightened in a way I didn’t like foreign, unwelcome. I sat up, scanning the room. Her dress was gone. Her shoes. Her laugh.
The only thing left was the ghost of her scent clinging to the air.
She walked out.
Without a word. Without leaving so much as a trace.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, anger sparking low in my gut. Not the kind of anger I was used to the cold, controlled kind I used in boardrooms and negotiations. This was something hotter. More volatile.
Because women didn’t leave me.
They lingered. They begged. They tried to force something permanent where I never promised permanence. But not her.
She’d taken everything I gave her my control, my dominance, my fire and then vanished like it meant nothing.
I dragged a hand through my hair, pacing the room. She had broken the rules, and I should’ve been satisfied. That was the point of no names, no strings. Clean, easy, forgettable.
So why couldn’t I forget?
Her eyes. That sharp tongue. The way she didn’t flinch under me, didn’t cower, didn’t worship the ground I walked on like everyone else did. She saw me. And she left anyway.
I should’ve let it go.
But the gnawing ache in my chest told me I wasn’t going to.
By noon, I’d already ordered Nathaniel to run security footage from every angle of Vale Noir the night she slipped in. I gave him nothing but a description of curly dark hair, petite, eyes that burned. He raised a brow, asked if I’d finally gone insane.
“Find her,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.
He smirked but didn’t press. He knew better.
I told myself it was about control. About unfinished business.
But when I closed my eyes, all I saw was her walking out my door without looking back.
And for the first time in years, I wasn’t the one in control.