Dominic Wayne's POV
Love was a myth. An elaborate illusion packaged with roses, lies, and legal paperwork. Dominic Wayne didn't do illusions.
He did control.
He did strategy.
And he did sex frequently, cleanly, with no attachments.
So when he saw her again, he told himself it meant nothing.
It couldn't mean anything.
She was just a girl in a dress. A beautiful one, yes, but beautiful girls were everywhere in his world. Models, heiresses, actresses. Interchangeable. Disposable.
But this one?
This one had eyes like she'd been to war and survived. Lips that quirked up with sarcasm instead of seduction. And a presence that buzzed under his skin like electricity humming at the base of his spine.
Alisha Brandon.
The waitress who'd baptized him in hot coffee and walked away with his curiosity chained to her hips.
Now she was walking into his gala like a secret no one had told him he was dying to know.
He stood at the balcony edge above the ballroom, drink in hand, cold glass pressed to his lips but his attention was laser-sharp. Trained on her.
The midnight-blue gown she wore clung to her body like it had been painted on, the slit teasing one long leg with every stride. Her hair was swept up in a messy-chic bun that somehow made her neck look both delicate and sinful. The moment their eyes met across the crowd, something hot twisted in his chest.
He looked away.
No. Not again.
"I'm here," came a voice, honey-sweet and full of knives.
Dominic didn't turn. "I dont remember needing you now, Vanessa."
Vanessa Hart, the socialite-turned-businesswoman he kept around for two reasons: one, she was good at keeping up appearances. Two, she was even better at taking off her clothes without expectations. She understood the rules: no feelings, no commitment.
But she was starting to forget.
"She's looking at you," Vanessa said with a hard smile. She was talking about Alisha as she glared at her with distain. "I don't like her."
Dominic finally glanced at her. Blonde, striking, perfectly composed in a blood-red gown that screamed sex and screamed louder when she wasn't wearing it.
"Noted," he said coolly.
Vanessa stepped closer, hand trailing down his chest, fingers grazing the fabric of his jacket. "You're mine tonight, Dom."
"No," he said quietly. "I'm nobody's."
She froze. Just for a second. Then smiled again, sharp and fake.
"I'll see you on the dance floor."
He didn't watch her go. His eyes were already back on Alisha.
And that was the problem.
---
Alisha's POV
I didn't belong here. Every part of me knew that. But Grandma had insisted I attend the gala like it was some royal decree. She'd even dressed me herself - blue satin, diamond earrings, and heels high enough to qualify as murder weapons.
So I came. I smiled. I endured Lauren and Judith's fake compliments and Maggie's tight-lipped disapproval.
And then I saw him.
Dominic Wayne.
He stood above the crowd like a king surveying his kingdom. Cold. Untouchable. Dangerous.
Our eyes met, and my breath stuttered.
Why the hell did my breath stutter.
He looked away.
Figures.
I turned to grab a champagne flute and pretended I wasn't rattled. He was just a man. Sure, he was devastatingly hot in that tailored black suit. Sure, he had the kind of brooding energy that made book-boyfriends feel like a warm-up act. But he was also a rich, emotionally unavailable CEO who probably had commitment issues and a private jet.
Which meant he was a walking red flag.
Exactly my type.
I was sipping champagne and considering escape routes when the music shifted, and I caught sight of her.
Blonde. Tall. A walking lingerie commercial with claws in her eyes.
She walked straight to Dominic and wrapped herself around him like a snake marking territory.
Girlfriend?.
Of course.
The idea shouldn't have stung.
It really shouldn't have made me want to walk over and rip her fake lashes off with my bare hands. What's wrong with me? What am I thinking?
I turned away. Focused on the art, the candles, the exit sign. Anything but him.
---
Dominic's POV
He didn't dance. He never did.
But tonight, Dominic found himself gliding across the floor with Vanessa in his arms, her hand tight around his neck, lips brushing his ear with promises he didn't want.
"You're distracted," she murmured.
"Business." He said.
Vanessa knew it was a lie but she chose not to say anything. Just danced with the man she had always loved. She knew something was wrong with him this night and she will find out why.
Dominic's mind wasn't on the woman pressed against him, her thigh sliding against his leg with every step. His mind was on the woman by the champagne fountain, sipping slowly, her mouth too tempting.
Alisha's eyes flicked toward him again. Brief. Sharp. Electric.
Vanessa must've felt the shift. She pulled him closer. "Do I need to remind you what you came here with tonight?"
He finally looked at her. He's eyes glazing. "You're not a leash, Vanessa."
She flinched a little but tried not to show. She smiled seductively ."But maybe I should be."
Then she kissed him.
A hard, possessive kiss meant to prove a point. Meant to mark.
And still… all Dominic could think about was the wrong woman.
---
Alisha's POV
I shouldn't care.
I really shouldn't care.
But watching that blonde viper kiss Dominic like she was claiming ownership over a skyscraper-sized sex god made my jaw clench so hard, I nearly cracked a tooth.
It shouldn't matter. He wasn't mine. I wasn't his. This was real life, not one of my dark, twisted novels where the brooding CEO suddenly wanted the awkward book girl with emotional baggage and a coffee addiction.
Still, my fingers curled around the champagne glass like it was her throat.
"What's got you all wound up?" a voice asked beside me.
I turned. A man: tall, olive-skinned, dressed in a sleek navy suit, smiled at me.
"Too many people," I said quickly. I stared at his brown curly hair, but my mind went back to that sleek black hair.
The man smiled wider. He's smile irritated me. "Then let's dance. I promise not to step on your toes."
I was halfway to rejecting him when I felt a stare.
Dominic.
Watching. Burning. Furious.
A dare flickered in my chest. A thought came to me and I snickered.
I stared into the man's eyes and smile charmingly. "Sure."
We moved to the dance floor. He was charming, smooth, said something about being a hedge fund baby. I barely heard him. My skin tingled like it was waiting for something. For him.
And then…
He came.
Dominic Wayne walked across the ballroom like he owned the floor. His eyes locked on mine. Possessive. Dark.
He tapped the man's shoulder.
"Let her go" I heard his voice low and dangerous.
My dance partner looked unsure. I didn't wait.
I slipped into Dominic's arms like my body had been waiting to do it since the day I was born.
---
Dominic's POV
She fit too well.
Too perfectly.
His hand slid to her waist, and her body leaned into his like it belonged there. Her scent curled around him vanilla and something darker, something sinful. Her eyes met his, challenging. Daring.
"I thought you didn't dance," she said.
"I don't."
"And yet…"
"You were dancing with someone else."
Her lips parted. "Are you jealous?"
"No."
It was a lie.
He was jealous. Of a stranger's hand on her hip. Of a man who got to feel her body this close without working for it.
He didn't believe in love.
But he suddenly believed in possession.
"You're playing a dangerous game," she whispered.
"I don't play," he said.
Their bodies moved together, heat rising with every step. His fingers tightened at her waist, and her chest brushed his with every sway. The music slowed. The air thickened.
"You kissed your girlfriend," she murmured.
"She's not my girlfriend."
"Sure didn't look like it."
"I told her the rules. She keeps forgetting them."
"And what are your rules, Dominic?"
His eyes darkened. "No feelings. No lies. And no pretending this...." His voice dropped as he pulled her closer "....doesn't feel like fire."
Her breath hitched.
His hand slid from her waist to her bare back.
Her lips parted.
And for one reckless, brutal moment he almost kissed her.
Almost.
Instead, he released her. Stepped back.
Control.
He needed control.
Not chaos.
Not her.
Alisha blinked, stunned. "What was that?"
"A mistake," he said coldly.
Then he turned and walked away leaving both of them burning.