Page 8

DOMINIC

I spent most of the evening in my study, surrounded by backlit screens.

My tie was slung over the arm of the leather club chair across the room, my sleeves rolled past my elbows, and my focus held together by little more than habit.

I sifted through legal briefs, board memos, projections, and fallout timelines—the merger was a beast that demanded constant feeding.

But Savannah kept pulling my attention.

She disrupted everything—static cutting through a clear signal.

I could still feel the presence she left behind, hear her breath catch when I touched her neck.

The sounds she made lingered in my memory, etched into places I hadn’t let anyone reach in years.

I should’ve been moving on to the next task, hammering out the remaining pieces of the investor pitch, but instead, I clicked open her employee profile and sat back in my chair.

The photo was pure corporate polish—clean lines, a fitted blazer, minimal makeup.

But all I could think about was how she had looked with me between her thighs, and it made me start to swell.

She knew how to create the perfect package, and I wondered if her voodoo was to blame for my lack of self-control.

I exhaled sharply and forced the thought aside, grounding myself with the cool edge of the desk beneath my palms.

The resume was solid—a few internships, brand campaigns, a marketing degree with honors.

But there was a gap. While I was in Zurich.

There was no explanation—not even a placeholder.

No mention of family leave or made-up consulting work to patch the hole.

It was a clean blank space that said nothing on paper but hinted to me that something had happened, even though my conversations with David offered no hints.

I stared at it longer than I should have. Something about that gap didn’t sit right. If it’d been a sabbatical, she would’ve said so. If it had been illness, maybe not—but then why come back now? Why this job, this company, this timing?

My phone buzzed with a reminder about the strategy call I’d pushed from earlier in the day.

I stood for the call, pacing in front of the tall windows that overlooked the quiet stretch of street outside.

The conversation began as expected—dry legal jargon and compliance protocol—but once I brought up the press leaks, the tone shifted.

“We traced the breach to an internal login,” Jennifer said. She was head of legal, sharp as hell, and not someone who wasted words.

“When?” I asked as I maneuvered around my desk and sat down at my computer.

“Tuesday. Midmorning. Someone accessed restricted folders tied to Knight Holdings’ pre-acquisition financials. Not enough to do real damage, but enough to stir early speculation.”

“How far did it spread?” My fingers were working, pulling up the exact files Jennifer mentioned.

“Local business blogs. Two national columnists. Nothing major—yet.”

I stopped typing and scowled. “Whose login?”

“It belongs to a junior strategist from the PR floor, a woman named Marla Renner.”

I frowned. I didn’t know her. “Can we be sure it wasn’t stolen credentials?”

“We’re looking into it. But the time stamp matches her working hours, and the device ID lines up with her workstation.”

“So she either did it, or someone used her terminal.” Massaging the bridge of my nose, I sighed hard and thought of any reason why employees within Raven & Rhodes wouldn’t want this merger to go through.

“Exactly.”

I switched to rubbing the back of my neck, feeling the tight pull of tension creeping in. “Keep this close. No noise until we know for sure what’s going on.”

“Understood,” she said. I ended the call and leaned back into the chair, tension riding high across my shoulders.

This was the last thing I needed—not just a leak, but a potential breach coming from inside a team Savannah worked with. She wasn’t implicated. She hadn’t even been in the building that morning if my memory served, but the proximity still bothered me.

I didn’t want her anywhere near this mess.

It was hard enough to be in the same room with her.

I didn’t want there to be more complications or mess.

Vance suggested softening my image, and Vanessa recommended a paramour for me.

I only brought Savannah up to make faking something like that a bit easier.

Now the ball was in her court, and if she felt like she was going to have to battle a scandal too, she’d bolt.

She was sharp, driven, probably smarter than half the executive team, but this campaign was going to get messy. People were already picking sides. Allegiances shifted fast when money was on the line, and I didn’t want her caught in the crossfire. Not until I knew what was really going on.

I reached for my glass, took a long sip of lukewarm water, and opened my laptop again. I had more work to do, but my fingers hovered over the keys for too long.

I opened a message window and started typing a note to Savannah, something casual, something that didn’t sound like I was losing my mind. I deleted it. Tried again. Deleted that too.

Finally, I gave up on subtlety and typed out exactly what I wanted:

Dominic: 10:24 PM: I really need release. M4S? My place…

I hit send before I could talk myself out of it.

Then I sat there, staring at the screen, waiting for something—anything.

The minutes crawled by in silence. There was no reply.

The typing bubbles never appeared. The low thrum of silence and the echo of my own impulsiveness ricocheted through my head, making me question whether I should have sent the message in the first place.

I forced myself back into the spreadsheets, tried to bury my mind in budget lines and risk assessments, but my focus was shot. I wasn’t used to feeling like this—unsettled, off-balance, definitely not used to being ignored.

When her reply came in, I nearly dropped the mouse.

Savannah: 10:37 PM: You’re not subtle, are you?

Dominic: 10:38 PM: Never claimed to be. Come over.

For ten, then fifteen more minutes, I got nothing.

I started to think maybe I’d pushed too far.

Maybe she was going to ghost me all over again, and this time there would be a sexual harassment suit.

Maybe I was reading too much into the way she looked at me in her office when I asked her to go along with Vanessa’s plot.

But just after eleven, the gate camera blinked to life, and the intercom lit up with the security team confirming Savannah had arrived at the front door of my house.

I stood too quickly, knocking my knee against the desk as I got to my feet. I wasn’t ready—at least, not in the way I usually was. With anyone else, I would’ve adjusted my cuffs, fixed my expression, and opened the door like I had nothing to prove. But this wasn’t anyone else. This was Savannah.

I stopped at the mirror in the hallway, smoothed down my shirt, ran a hand through my hair, and cursed myself under my breath. Then I buzzed the door open and waited for the sound of her footsteps coming up the walk.

Each second stretched. I paced once across the entryway, then stopped myself.

I didn’t want to look like I’d been waiting by the door, even if that was exactly what I was doing.

My palms were sweating, which felt ridiculous, and I wiped them down the sides of my slacks.

I told myself it was the merger, the stress, the late hour—but I knew better. This wasn’t nerves about business.

The doorbell rang and I reached for the handle, pulling the door open slowly. She stood on the porch, shoulders tense, her eyes searching mine like she half expected me to change my mind. I stepped aside to let her in as my chest tightened with a rush of nerves.

Savannah stepped into the entryway with her shoulders squared, her chin slightly lifted like she wasn’t sure whether to walk in or walk away. Her coat clung to her from the mist outside, and she held a small clutch tight in her hand.

“Hi,” she said calmly, but she didn’t make eye contact.

“Hey,” I answered as I shut the door behind her and shook off the worst of my anxious tension.

She moved past me with deliberate calm and set her clutch on the console table near the door. For a beat, she didn’t turn around. Then, without looking at me, she said, “I’m not sure how this is supposed to work. The whole…booty call thing.”

I grinned like a fool and walked closer to her, closing the gap between us.

“Well, for starters, you have to show up. So we can tick that one off the list.” I took the lapels of her long jacket and slid them down off her shoulders.

“And next, you have to be more comfortable…Say, taking off your clothing…”

The fire between us was still burning hot and bright. The minute her coat was off her arms, it dropped to the floor and she reached for my neck, pulling me down for a kiss.

Her lips were as intoxicating as I remembered, her touch just as electrifying.

The heat of her body radiated through the thin fabric of her dress, fueling the hunger building inside me.

My need for her was a physical ache, and I could no more resist her now than I could have that night we first succumbed to our desires.

My hands skated down her back, molding to the curve of her hips, drawing her body tightly against mine.

Her gasp of desire when our bodies met was like music to my ears, spurring me on to claim more of her.

I kissed her hard and deep, my tongue plunging into her mouth in a dance as old as time itself—a mating ritual between two damned souls.

With a low growl rumbling in my chest, I backed her against the wall, hands gripping her hips hard.

Her nails dug into my back, leaving fiery trails behind as she arched against me, begging for more. I wanted to savor the moment, to draw it out, but the overwhelming desire for her was too much to bear. I needed her now—this very moment.