Page 46 of Blackmailing Belle (The Lost Girls #4)
Chapter 46
Rebinding the Dream
BELLE
L ater, Dominic insists on taking me out. He doesn’t say where, just that it’s important. We drive through Boston, the familiar streets giving way to ones I’d avoided since the fire. My stomach twists as we turn a corner, and I recognize the block.
I clench my fists in my lap. Why would he bring me here?
The car slows to a stop. I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest, before stepping out. And then, I see it.
The ruins of Chapter Three remain, and my heart sinks. Despite feeling the intense satisfaction of allowing love in, there is still a hole inside me. A desperate clawing of some unnamable force scratches fiercely, widening that hole as I take in the wreckage where my bookstore once stood.
“Why are we here?” I ask, my words coming out strangled with grief.
I still want, I need , to make an impact. I miss the cozy space I’d created, the people who became a fixture there like the Lust & Lit Book Club, and Chip. I miss seeing the awe and joy of new readers discovering my shop. My throat is dry. My feet turn to lead .
Dominic wraps his arm around me and directs me to walk down the block, away from the burnt remains and the limo. His hair and beard are mussed in that impossibly attractive way, a somehow compelling juxtaposition to the designer suit he’s wearing. Instead of a tie he keeps the collar unbuttoned, revealing a bit of carved clavicle and dusting of chest hair.
“Remember when I said you were perfect because you would read and keep to yourself in my company? And you told me that you were so much more than that? That I didn’t bother to consider your ambition, but it’s just as much a part of you?”
“Where are you going with this?” My anticipation rises, though I’m not sure why. I have no idea what he’s driving at, even as we reach the end of the block.
He grips my shoulders, pulling me in for a deep, lingering kiss that leaves me lightheaded and thoroughly melted.
“You were right. But then you became perfect for that too. And I couldn’t stand the idea of having you lose that part of yourself.” He turns me around.
The large corner shop gleams in the afternoon sunlight, its two-story storefront framed by wide windows and a lavender door. Embedded in the wood, a stained-glass panel depicts a pink rose wrapped in thorns. Above the entrance, a sign in elegant script reads: Chapter Three: Where Love is the Best Plot Twist.
I can’t breathe.
I might be having a stroke.
“What. . .How—” Words fail me as I turn to Dominic, who has his hands shoved in his pockets. His green eyes watch me with a mixture of amusement and something deeper—something that steals my breath .
“It’s not just a bookstore anymore,” he says, stepping closer. “It has a café and a bigger community space to easily host book signings, events, whatever you want.”
I blink rapidly, tears blurring my vision. “Dominic, I told you before. You can’t just buy me off.”
I’m only saying that because I am fully bought and paid for with this gesture.
Any moment a receipt will emerge from my mouth to give him proof of sale.
“I know,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. “And I’m not trying to. This isn’t about money. It’s about giving you back something you lost because of me, because of the Wolves. While it’s half penance, it’s also because I watched you from the limo for weeks on end. I fell in love with the way you smiled and went about tidying up the store. I’ve never seen Chip so relaxed or excited as when they were working here for you, and I know they’ve missed it. Mainly because they text me about it almost constantly. I even fell in love with the look on customers’ faces as they left with bags of your books clutched to their hearts. You make a difference, Isabelle.”
The words settle inside me, light and warm. I step closer, resting a hand on his chest. “This almost feels like you’re trying to blackmail me again.”
Dominic scoffs in mock shock. “Blackmail? Please. This is a strategic negotiation. If anything, it’s a bribe wrapped in a heartfelt, romantic gesture—with, you know, a side of real estate.”
I arch a brow. “So, I should just use you for your money, your kindness, your thoughtfulness. . .” I let my hand drift lower, tracing the hard lines of his torso, “and your very generous, very sexy body? ”
His lips twitch. “That does seem like the reasonable thing to do.”
I hum, pretending to consider. “Well, when you put it that way, refusing would be fiscally irresponsible.”
Dominic’s laugh rumbles deep in his chest as he pulls me into his arms. “You once told me you were a realist. But here you are, letting a grand gesture sweep you off your feet.” He presses his lips to my temple. “Don’t worry, wife. I won’t tell anyone what a romantic you are.”
“I’d appreciate that,” I say before throwing my arms around him and kissing him with all the enthusiasm and gratitude I possess. A low growl emits from his chest, vibrating into mine, and pleasure coils in my brain and body at the possessive way he tilts my head so he can claim my mouth more deeply.
When we finally break apart, he gestures toward the building. “Come on. You need to see inside, and if you kiss me like that again I might end up taking you right here on the street. We’re both far too busy to be arrested today.”
I laugh and follow him to the door which opens with a cheery jingle of a bell. “Yeah, like we’d get arrested.” I snort.
“Okay then, I’m in no mood to schmooze or threaten cops.”
Before I can answer, a group of women jump in front of me.
“Surprise!”
It’s the Lust & Lit Book Club. Yanette, Rachel Anne, Gingie, Hannah, and even Jessie and Nikki crowd around me in a flurry of hugs and laughter, all talking at once—gushing about how gorgeous the place is and how hot and helpful my husband is.
Dominic stands back, arms crossed, his brow slightly furrowed as his already darkly blushing complexion turns a shade redder.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. He can handle mercenaries, criminals, and entire packs of territorial shifters, but six romance readers openly admiring his biceps? Apparently, that’s his weakness.
Mrs. P and my father emerge from the background, giving me hugs and congratulations. My father’s eyes shine brightly with pride and Mrs. P asks me a few surreptitious questions about a historical romance book that caught her eye before they head to the bar to pick up glasses of champagne.
Across the room, Lucien has somehow wedged himself between Yanette and Rachel Anne, all effortless charm and lazy smirks.
"Now tell me, cher , what’s a man gotta do to get himself a spot in this fine book club?” he asks, voice as smooth as the champagne in his hand.
Yanette gives him a once-over. "Actually read romance novels."
Lucien leans in slightly. "Oh, I love romance. Passion, tension, steamy climaxes?—"
A few feet away, Tock stands by a shelf, completely unaware of the disaster happening behind him as he discusses narrative structure with Hannah.
"The key to any great book is the climax," Tock says, adjusting his glasses. "Everything builds to that one pivotal moment?—"
“Oh, I agree,” Nikki earnestly nods her head as Gingie tries to suppress her smile. “I think the building up part is most important. In fact, I think most of the time in a book should be about building up to the . . .climax.”
Completely missing the double entendre, Tock smiles with delight at what he believes to be a very cerebral conversation.
The space is everything I never dared to dream of. The café on one side is warm and inviting, with plush chairs and shelves stacked with well-loved books, spilling onto a small back patio strung with fairy lights. Inside, rows of towering bookshelves create a maze of stories, their spines forming a vibrant mosaic of color and possibility. The scent of fresh wood and coffee weaves through the air, as intoxicating as the moment itself.
Behind the bar, Chip stands grinning, already sporting an apron that reads Brewed Awakening: Monster Smut Edition . Their smile is so wide it’s a miracle their face doesn’t crack.
I blink at the wall behind them, where a row of neatly hung tee shirts are displayed for sale. Tentacles & Tea features curling tentacles wrapping around a floral teapot. Next to it, Read Between the Lattes is printed in a bold, bookish script, set against an open book with steam rising from its pages like a freshly brewed story. And at the very end, Cream & Creatures —a gothic-style pitcher of cream, smooth and overflowing, a monstrous, clawed hand gripping the handle. A single drop of cream slides down, dangerously close to looking obscene.
My lips twitch. “You’re really leaning into the brand here.”
Chip throws their arms in the air. “Belle, it was my artistic duty. Also, I may have ordered most of the stock, so I really hope I did okay.” Their eyes widen almost comically. “But honestly? This is the best day ever.”
I shake my head, warmth curling through my chest. “You did perfect.”
Chip beams, but instead of clapping their hands together, they snatch another bottle of champagne from behind the bar and start pouring into more flutes that are already lined up. “To new beginnings! To monster smut! To me, for single-handedly managing all the newbie hires!”
I blink. “You hired people already?”
Chip lifts a brow, giving me a look like I just asked if books require words. “Belle. Did you think the two of us could run this entire operation alone? No, no, I’ll be training a whole squad of caffeine-fueled, book-loving recruits. Minimum qualifications include speed, sass, and a deep respect for their new overlord—me.”
Dominic sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “I told you, you can’t make them call you ‘overlord.’”
Chip hands him a flute of champagne and clinks it against their own as they continue to argue about appropriate titles.
The door swings open again, ushering in another wave of chaos. Rap strides in first, a bottle of vodka raised high like a battle trophy, the Lost Girls flooding in behind her. Ted follows close behind, balancing a heart-shaped pink cake that’s so perfectly frosted it could only be Goldie’s work.
Rap and Dominic end up locked in a low conversation, a silent standoff that ends when she rolls her eyes and hands him a shot, which he downs without question.
Ariel is already taking photos for Poison Apple’s socials, capturing a moment of Ted standing beside Goldie, looking deceptively patient as she excitedly flips through a romance novel. His expression is neutral, but the way his fingers subtly trace the spine of another book on the display betrays his interest. Meanwhile, Red and Brexley are in a deep debate over whether the section should be renamed Absolute Filth and Therefore Perfect .
Snow is convincing Kai to test the sturdiness of a rolling ladder, and Cinder—far too entertained—leans against a bookshelf, waiting for the inevitable crash.
And, of course, Dame Kiki Eleganza—full Fairy Godmother mode engaged, complete with shimmering heels and a feathered fan—takes one dramatic look around before declaring, "Gorgeous! But this place could use more glitter. Or at least a disco ball."
The store hums with life, a beautiful, chaotic mess of laughter, overlapping voices, and too many champagne bottles being opened at once. I step back a bit, letting it all wash over me, feeling both entirely in it and just outside of it at the same time.
I shake my head, overwhelmed and full in a way I can’t explain.
As I stand by the door of Chapter Three, Dominic steps in behind me, his arms sliding around my waist, pulling me flush against him. He leans down, his breath warm against my ear. “What do you think?”
I can’t even pretend to fight the smile. “It’s perfect .”
He presses a slow kiss to my neck, holding me tighter.
This isn’t just a bookstore. It’s a home. A family. Proof that love—messy, imperfect, real love—exists. That it was always real. That I was never foolish for wanting it.
And now? It’s mine.
Love. Family. Friends. Purpose. And romance books.
For the first time, I’m not just reading the story—I’m living it. And I wouldn’t change a single page.