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Chapter Fifteen

M aya

The sound of Victor shifting on the too-small couch wakes me again. Third time tonight. Despite his stoic silence, I hear him trying to find a comfortable position, his large frame cramped on furniture meant for casual seating, not sleeping.

After our verbal power struggle, he slept that first night on the bed. Since then, he’s refused so adamantly I’ve been unable to budge him.

Enough is enough.

Moving quietly to the living room, I find him doing pushups in the darkness, probably trying to work out the stiffness from weeks of inadequate rest. Even in the dim light filtering through the windows, his form is perfect.

“This has to stop.”

He transitions smoothly to his feet, maintaining proper distance despite our growing comfort with each other. “My domina should be sleeping.”

“So should you. In a bed .” I cross my arms, trying to look stern despite being in sleep shorts and an oversized T-shirt. “You need to be at your best for the fight.”

“The couch serves well enough.”

“The dark circles under your eyes say different.” Moving closer, I soften my tone. “You’ve been respectful of my bed long enough. Now you’re just being stubborn.”

His lips quirk slightly. “Perhaps.”

“The bed’s big enough for both of us.” I’ve made this offer before, but tonight I won’t back down. “And before you start telling me the rules about propriety, remember we’ve been living alone together for weeks now.”

“Which already strains the bounds of proper behavior.” Even in the darkness, I catch his slight frown. “An unmarried woman, alone with—”

“A man who needs proper rest before a crucial fight.” I cut him off before he can retreat into formality. “I’m not asking. I’m telling. As your…” The word sticks in my throat, but I force it out. “As your domina .”

His sharp intake of breath tells me I’ve surprised him. I haven’t pulled rank like this for weeks.

“You fight soon,” I continue quickly. “You need real sleep. The bed is big enough that we can both maintain perfect propriety while getting actual rest.”

He studies me in the darkness, and I wonder what he sees. A trainer concerned for her fighter? A domina exercising authority? Or just a woman trying to take care of someone she’s coming to care about far too much?

“If you insist,” he says finally.

“I do.”

He follows me to the bedroom, his hesitation obvious in every step. I slide under the covers on my usual side, leaving him plenty of space.

“I will stay above the blankets,” he announces stiffly, still standing by the bed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It gets cold at night.”

“Nevertheless.”

I sigh, recognizing that immovable tone. “Fine. But at least use the blanket you were using on the couch.”

He retrieves it with grave ceremony, then stretches out on his side of the bed, careful to maintain a proper gap between us. The mattress dips slightly under his weight, and I’m acutely aware of his presence—the sound of his breathing, the warmth radiating from his body, the subtle scent of soap from his evening shower.

“Sleep well,” I say softly.

“And you, Domina .”

Silence falls, broken only by distant traffic and the hum of the fan. I’m hyper-aware of every small movement, every slight shift of the mattress. His presence fills the room like a physical force.

Just as I’m starting to drift off, his voice comes quietly through the darkness.

“Thank you.” The words are in English.

“For ordering you into a comfortable bed?” I try to keep my tone light.

“For caring about more than just my fighting ability.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. If he only knew how horribly I’m deceiving him, how the guilt of my deception weighs heavier with each passing day.

“Get some sleep,” I manage softly.

His breathing eventually steadies into the rhythm of sleep, but I lie awake far longer, watching shadows play across the ceiling. Every day, it gets harder to maintain the fiction of our relationship. Every moment of genuine connection makes the lies feel heavier.

But for now, he’s finally getting proper rest. Whatever transpires at Empire, at least he’ll face it with a few nights of real sleep behind him.

I drift off eventually, lulled by his quiet breathing and the strange comfort of no longer being alone in the darkness. Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new dangers, new complications. But tonight, we’ve crossed another small boundary, built another fragment of trust.

Even if that trust is built on lies, I’ll eventually have to confess. And pay for.