Chapter Three
1211 Words
Dominic’s POV
The message had been sent before I could stop myself, and once it was gone, it was done. “Tomorrow. Two o’clock. My office.”
I stared at the screen for a long moment, my reflection faint in the glass. The city lights behind me blurred. I did not rush. I never rushed. Still, I couldn't stop myself from sending her that message. I told myself it was nothing. Just another decision. Just another stranger. Yet the image of her face would not leave me. The wine. Her eyes. The way she froze.
I turned away from the window and loosened my tie. The office was quiet. Too quiet. It was past three in the morning, and the building belonged to me alone. I liked it that way. Silence obeyed and listened. I poured a drink and took one slow sip. It burned, steady and sharp. Pain kept things clear.
I sat at my desk and opened her file. Or rather, the lack of one. For Ava Mendez, there were no records. No connections. That alone made her interesting. Everyone left a trail.
My phone buzzed. I did not look at it right away. When I did, it was Julian. He never slept unless he had to.
“You’re still awake,” he said when I answered.
“So are you,” I replied.
“I heard you gave your card to a waitress tonight.”
I smiled. “You hear too much.”
He paused. “That’s not a denial.”
“No,” I said. “It’s not.”
“You don’t do things like that.”
“I do whatever I want.”
“That’s exactly why I’m calling.”
I leaned back in my chair. “Say what you want to say.”
Julian sighed. “She’s not part of our world.”
“Neither was I,” I said calmly.
“That’s different.”
“Everything is different when it suits you.”
Silence stretched between us.
“You’re curious,” he finally said.
“Yes.”
“That curiosity ruins people.”
“Only the weak ones.”
“You don’t even know her.”
“I know enough,” I said. “She didn’t seem desperate. She didn’t cry. She didn’t flirt.”
Julian exhaled. “You sound defensive.”
“I sound honest.”
“Just don’t forget who you are.”
I ended the call without answering. Then, I stood and walked to the window again. Below me, the city breathed. Cars moved like veins of light. People lived small lives, full of noise and fear. I had outgrown that world long ago. Or so I thought.
Her name tasted strange in my mouth. Ava. Simple. Soft. Dangerous. I did not save people. I did not rescue girls with tired eyes and shaking hands. I built empires. I crushed men twice my size without raising my voice. So why had my hand moved before my mind could stop it?
Morning came without sleep. I showered, dressed, and stepped into the day as if nothing had changed. Meetings filled the hours. The office building was filled with people from all walks of life. I watched them all with the same calm distance. Still, my eyes drifted to the clock more than once.
At one thirty, I sent my assistant away.
“No interruptions,” I said.
“Not even Julian?” she asked.
“Especially not Julian.”
She nodded and closed the door. I sat alone and waited. I never waited.
At one fifty-eight, there was a knock.
“Come in,” I said.
The door opened slowly. She stepped inside, clutching a folder to her chest. She looked smaller in the daylight. She looked paler, and tired. But her eyes were sharp and alert.
“Mr. Vale,” she said.
“Ava,” I replied.
She hesitated, then walked forward.
“Sit,” I said.
She did. Carefully. Like the chair might disappear.
“You came,” I said.
“You asked,” she answered. “I had to show up somehow.”
That made me smile.
I leaned forward. “Why did you email me?”
She blinked. “You told me to. How else was I supposed to get this job?”
“No,” I said softly. “You didn’t have to.”
She swallowed hard. “I needed to know if it was real. I needed to be sure.”
“And now?”
“And now I’m here.”
“Why?”
She met my gaze. “Because I don’t get many chances.”
That was honest. Too honest.
“You could lose your job,” I said.
“I might,” she agreed.
“And still you came.”
“Yes. Because most times, when one door closes, another opens.”
I studied her face. No makeup. No mask. Just resolve and fear, fighting for space.
“You were warned,” I said.
Her breath caught. “How do you know that?”
“I know many things.”
She stood abruptly. “If this is some kind of game—”
“It’s not,” I said.
“Then why me? Why did I get such a threatening message? And how come you know about it?”
I rose as well, closing the space between us. “That’s what I’m trying to understand.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have connections. I don’t have money. I don’t belong here.”
“You think belonging is granted?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “By men like you.”
Her voice did not shake. That impressed me.
“Sit,” I said again.
She did, but slowly.
I took her resume. Skimmed it. Two jobs. Night classes. Responsibility far too heavy for someone her age.
“You’re overqualified for survival,” I said.
She frowned. “Is that a joke?”
“No.”
“What do you want from me?”
The question hung between us.
“I want honesty,” I said.
“You’ll get it.”
“I want loyalty.”
She stiffened. “That has a price.”
“I pay well.”
“I don’t mean money.”
I smiled again. “Neither do I.”
Her phone buzzed. She froze.
“Don’t answer it,” I said.
She looked at me. “Why?”
“Because whoever it is thinks they can scare you.”
She stood, backing away. “This was a mistake.”
“Was it?”
“Yes. I need to leave. You're scaring the hell outta me. I'm no longer comfortable here.”
“Then walk out. If you're not comfortable with a situation, simply walk out. You don't need to be uncomfortable.”
She didn’t move.
I stepped closer. “You won’t.”
“You don’t know me,” she whispered. “I do what I want.”
“I know enough,” I said. “And now they do too. So it's not about doing what you want.”
Her eyes widened. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” I said quietly, “you’re already in this, and there is no turning back.”
- Writer
