Closed Quarters
1249 Words
The silence between them wasn’t quiet.
It hummed. Buzzed. Screamed.
Dominic’s office door clicked shut behind Alina with an unsettling softness, and for a second, she thought maybe she’d misread everything. Maybe the tension she felt had only ever existed in her own head. Maybe he was just irritated with her. Or maybe…
“Sit,” he said, his voice low, slightly hoarse.
Not angry. Something else.
She sat, slowly. “I didn’t come here to fight.”
“Neither did I.” He leaned on the edge of his desk, arms crossed. “But you just keep putting yourself in danger. You don’t get to chase shadows and then show up acting like the victim when things go sideways.”
Alina’s brows rose. “You think I enjoy being threatened in parking garages?”
“I think you enjoy playing with fire.”
She swallowed. Her heart beat too fast. “And what if I do?”
A silence again, heavier this time. He took a slow breath and ran a hand through his hair. It was slightly messy, like he hadn’t slept. Or maybe he had, but uneasily. She noticed the crease in his shirt, the faint scruff on his jaw.
“Why did you come here, really?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
Alina hesitated. Then, with a sigh, she admitted, “I didn’t want to be alone.”
That seemed to shake something in him.
Dominic stepped forward, not all the way, but enough. “You’re not just some girl. You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I could say the same about you,” she shot back. “You’re not just some student. You’re not even fully… legal, are you?” Her mouth tilted in a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
His lips twitched. “Thirty. Practically ancient.”
She laughed, softly. “So older than me.”
He moved closer. “Still just as dangerous.”
Their eyes locked.
It wasn’t supposed to happen—not in a professor’s office, not under the hum of flickering lights, not with this much tension clawing at the edges of their restraint.
But it did.
His hand brushed against hers on the desk—light, intentional. Testing. When she didn’t pull away, his fingers slowly curled over hers.
“Alina…” he murmured.
She should’ve stopped him. She knew better. But instead, she leaned in just slightly, heart pounding.
“Dominic.”
The air between them practically ignited.
And then—the phone rang.
They both flinched back like teenagers caught making out in church.
Dominic turned, jaw tight, and picked up the receiver. “Romano speaking.” Pause. A nod. “Yes, she’s here.” He handed the phone to her. “It’s your brother.”
Of course. Noah.
Because the universe had perfect timing.
Alina took the phone, cheeks burning. “Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked, trying to sound normal.
But Dominic’s eyes never left her.
And hers kept flicking back to him, wondering how much longer they could keep pretending nothing was happening between them.
Dominic Romano didn’t flinch when the door slammed behind him. He just stood there, towering, arms folded, lips tight. Alina’s heartbeat thudded painfully in her ears. She hated how aware she was of him. Of the way his shirt stretched slightly at his broad shoulders. Of how sharp his jawline looked under the pale moonlight slicing through the window.
She tore her eyes away and focused on the papers on her desk. “You can’t just walk in here like that.”
“I just did.”
She snapped her head up. “Seriously? That’s your answer?”
He stepped forward slowly, his gaze locked on hers. “Why are you looking into my father’s records?”
Alina stood. “You don’t scare me, Romano.”
“Good,” he said, almost smiling. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”
“I’m a reporter. It’s my job to look into things.”
Dominic’s expression darkened. “You’re a professor. At least, that’s what you told the university board.”
Silence.
Alina’s lips parted, but she had no explanation that didn’t sound insane. She hadn’t expected anyone to start digging. Not this fast. Not him.
“I didn’t come here to fight,” he added, his voice softening. “But you’re walking a dangerous line.”
“And you think warning me makes you less dangerous?”
He looked genuinely torn for a moment. “No,” he admitted. “But I figured you deserved a heads-up. The Romano name isn’t one you investigate lightly.”
Alina leaned on the edge of her desk, folding her arms. “I’m not afraid of you. Or your father.”
Dominic’s eyes burned into hers. “Then you don’t know him.”
For a long moment, the air between them was still. Heavy.
Then he said quietly, “You think you know who the monster is in this city. But you don’t. And if you keep poking around, you’ll meet him.”
She swallowed hard, her bravery wavering just a little.
But then… she saw something flicker in his eyes. Fear. Not for himself—but for her?
“Why do you care?” she asked. “You could have just let me find out the hard way.”
He hesitated.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe because I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Alina’s breath caught.
Dominic stepped closer, his voice lower now. “Maybe because I see the way you pretend not to notice me staring at you every time you walk into that lecture hall.”
Her heart betrayed her by skipping.
“And maybe because I want to know why someone like you,” he said, standing just inches away now, “is willing to lie, sneak, and risk everything.”
She didn’t back away.
Instead, she looked up at him with a mixture of challenge and heat.
“Because someone like me,” she whispered, “has nothing left to lose.”
His lips were so close now.
“I don’t believe that.”
Alina’s fingers tightened on the desk. “Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”
The tension was like an electric wire stretched tight between them.
And then—his hand moved. Slow, careful, like he was testing the limits. He touched her cheek. Just lightly.
“You’re insane,” she breathed.
“I know.”
And just like that—he kissed her.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.
It was fire.
Everything about it felt like a terrible idea. And yet—she kissed him back.
For a moment, it was just mouths and heat and hands. She grabbed his collar. He lifted her slightly, like she weighed nothing, sitting her on the desk. And then—
“Wait.” She pulled back, breathless. “This is wrong.”
He smirked. “You waited until after the kiss to say that?”
“You’re my student.”
He chuckled. “And you’re my obsession.”
Alina blinked. “That’s not better.”
“It’s worse,” he agreed, stepping back. “But I meant what I said. Be careful. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
She stared at him as he turned to leave.
And for the first time in years, her heart wasn’t guarded.
It was confused. Alive. Terrified.
And maybe… just a little hopeful.
- Writer
