Raven's Point of View
The moment the door to his office closed behind me, the atmosphere shifted. The air felt thicker, charged with some unspoken tension that had my pulse racing. Dominic was sitting behind his massive desk now, but his gaze never left me, piercing through me like he could read every thought in my mind.
I couldn't help but feel like I was in a completely different world now that I was alone with him.
His voice broke the silence, deep and calm, but with that underlying command that always had my heart skipping a beat. "Sit," he said, patting his thigh casually.
I froze, my mind racing. Did he just... pat his lap?
My gaze flickered between him and the chair in front of his desk, my pulse thudding in my ears. I knew I shouldn't do it, but damn, the way his eyes were on me made my feet move forward before I could even think. His jaw tightened.
"Come here," he said.
Not loud. Not rushed. Certain.
I barely had time to react before he reached out, caught my wrist, and pulled me forward. I gasped as he lifted me effortlessly, settling me onto his lap like I weighed nothing.
His thigh was solid beneath me. Warm. Unyielding.
My hands flew instinctively to his shoulders, my breath shallow as I tried to adjust, but his arm wrapped around my waist immediately, holding me in place.
"Stay," he murmured.
I did.
My heart was pounding so hard it felt reckless. Being this close to him-feeling the strength in his body, the controlled power in the way he held me-made my thoughts scatter.
His gaze dropped again, slower this time, lingering on the jacket draped around my shoulders.
"You're wearing it again," he said quietly.
I nodded, my throat tight.
One of his hands slipped free from my waist and found the hem of the jacket. His fingers toyed with it, rubbing the edge between his thumb and forefinger, like he was grounding himself-or claiming it.
Claiming me.
Something dark flickered in his eyes.
"Looks better on you," he added.
Heat rushed through me, my face burning as I shifted slightly on his lap without meaning to. His hold tightened just enough to remind me not to move.
"Have you eaten yet?" His voice was smooth, teasing, like he already knew the answer.
I swallowed hard, glancing up at him.
"Yes," I replied, though I hadn't had much of an appetite earlier. The thought of what happened between us last night still lingered in the pit of my stomach, making it hard to focus.
"Good," he said, nodding, but there was something in his eyes that made me wonder if he was trying to dig deeper.
As he turned his attention back to his desk, I couldn't help but notice how his muscles flexed as he moved, his shirt stretching over his broad shoulders. It was like everything about him screamed power, dominance. I felt small in comparison, but in some twisted way, I liked it.
He reached for something on his desk, his back to me for a moment. And that's when I saw it. His hands. The knuckles on both of his hands were bruised, angry shades of purple and blue.
I didn't mean to, but my breath caught in my throat. I leaned forward instinctively, drawn to the bruises. I wasn't sure why, but I had to know what had happened. What had caused this? What had he done?
I reached out and gently grabbed both of his hands, studying the damage closely. My fingers brushed over his knuckles, feeling the rough skin beneath.
"Dominic... What happened?" My voice was softer than I intended, and it came out more like a whisper.
His body tensed at my touch, his jaw clenching ever so slightly. For a brief moment, I thought he might pull his hands away, but he didn't. Instead, he turned his gaze back to me, his face unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that flickered-something guarded.
"It's nothing," he said quickly, brushing it off as if it were no big deal. "Just something I had to take care of." His tone was cold, distant, but I could tell he was lying. His voice had that subtle tightness to it.
Something you had to take care of?
But I didn't push him further, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable. Instead, I did something that surprised even myself.
I brought both of his large, veiny hands to my lips and pressed a soft kiss to each of his bruised knuckles. The moment my lips touched his skin, I felt the tension in his body shift. His breath hitched ever so slightly, his eyes flickering with something I couldn't quite place.
"It'll heal fast after I give it that kiss," I whispered, my voice softer now, and I couldn't help but smile a little as I looked up at him.
For a moment, he didn't say anything, just stared at me with that intense gaze of his. Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. There was a warmth in his eyes that hadn't been there before, something that made my stomach do a little flip.
"You're bold," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "But I can't say I mind."
His voice was a little lighter, though the tension between us remained thick, heavy. I wasn't sure if it was the way I had kissed his hands or just the way he looked at me that made my heart race, but I couldn't deny the electric pull between us.
And for a brief second, I almost felt like he wasn't the ruthless mafia boss I had been so terrified of. Instead, he felt like something else. Something I couldn't quite grasp, but something real.
The thought made my chest tighten, and I quickly tried to push it away, but it lingered.
"You know," he said, shifting in his chair, leaning a little closer. "You're the first person to care about me like that. Not many people are brave enough to get close."
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore how my pulse spiked at his words. Did he just admit that?
But before I could think too much about it, he leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed again, though there was still that dangerous edge to him.
"You're not like the others," he said with a quiet intensity. "And that... that's why you're here."
His words hung in the air between us, and I couldn't help but feel like this was only the beginning. That there was so much more to this story. So much more I didn't understand yet.
But for now, all I could do was sit there, trying to keep my composure, as the weight of his gaze bore into me, and the memory of last night lingered in my thoughts, pulling me deeper into his world.
What the hell had I gotten myself into?
The air in Dominic's office seemed to tighten as I sat there on his lap, my mind still reeling from the kiss on his knuckles, the warmth in his eyes, and the way his presence wrapped around me like a velvet rope, pulling me closer, no matter how much I tried to resist. It was as if everything had changed in that one moment-the kiss, the soft words he'd whispered, the way he seemed... vulnerable, just for a fraction of a second.
But then, as if the tension was never meant to break, the shrill sound of the office phone ringing shattered the silence between us. Dominic's eyes narrowed just slightly as his fingers tapped on the desk, a sign of his usual sharp focus. His voice, when he answered, was as commanding and powerful as always, but there was something different about it today. It was smoother, almost more controlled, and the way he spoke made my heart skip a beat.
"Yes?" he answered, his tone smooth like velvet, yet sharp, as if he were dissecting every word spoken on the other end.
His gaze flickered to me as he nodded once, the conversation continuing for a few more seconds before he hung up the phone.
"That was the receptionist," he said, his deep voice making my spine tingle. "She wants you downstairs."
I nodded quickly, suddenly feeling like I was floating, unsure of what had just transpired between us. Everything felt like a blur-the kiss, the gentle caress of his hands, the subtle power he exuded, and now, that one statement. I didn't know whether I was walking on air or falling.
"I'll be right back," I mumbled, standing up from his lap. But before I could make a move, Dominic's large hand cupped my face gently, as if he was claiming me without saying a word. His thumb brushed over my skin just below my cheekbone, sending a strange warmth through me.
And then, without warning, he leaned in and pressed a soft, quick kiss to my lips. I froze, shock coursing through me. I hadn't expected that-at all.
He pulled away just as quickly, his gaze lingering on me, a quiet amusement in his eyes.
"Hurry back," he murmured, his voice low and husky.
I couldn't breathe as I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. There was a lump in my throat that I couldn't swallow, but I forced myself to turn and walk toward the door.
The elevator ride down felt like an eternity. My mind was swirling, caught between the kiss and the words he'd said. What the hell was going on? Was he messing with me? No, he couldn't be. He wasn't that kind of guy, right? But something about him-something about the way he looked at me-told me that maybe he wasn't the cold, distant mafia boss everyone thought he was.
I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts that kept racing around in my head. But when I stepped out of the elevator and walked to the receptionist's desk, I immediately wished I hadn't.
Sarah handed me a folded copy of the daily newspaper, a neutral expression on her face.
"Mr Derveaux daily newspapers," she said, her voice monotone.
I took the paper without thinking, but when my eyes flickered down to the headline, my stomach dropped. The shock hit me like a freight train, and I had to fight to keep the paper from shaking in my hands. There, in full color, was Dominic and his wife-his wife-smiling for the camera.
They were standing together on what looked like a red carpet, their hands intertwined, and he had his arm around her waist, holding her close. She had that radiant smile, the kind that only comes from real love. And he... He was smiling too, but there was something about his smile that made my chest tighten. He looked completely at ease, completely in love.
But it wasn't just the photo that made my heart drop-it was the headline underneath it:
Dominic Derveaux : Mafia Boss and Family Man
The words seemed to burn in my mind. Family man. He was married. He had a wife.
I felt a sharp sting of something deep inside me-hurt, disappointment, and a sharp realization of what I had done. I had just slept with a married man, someone who had a life outside of whatever this was. A life I had no part in. I knew it, but seeing it like this, in front of me, made everything real.
I pressed my lips together to stop them from trembling. What had I expected? I knew who he was, what he did. I knew the danger he represented. But I also knew I shouldn't have let myself get caught up in whatever it was between us.
Sarah must've sensed something, because her usual sharp stare faltered-just for a second. There was a flicker of something like concern in her eyes before she masked it again.
"Are you... alright?" she asked, her tone lower than usual. Not warm. Not kind. Just careful.
I nodded too quickly, straightening my shoulders like I could will myself back together. "Yeah. I'm fine," I said, even though my voice betrayed me, wobbling at the edges.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, like she didn't believe me-but she didn't push. Just watched me for a beat longer than necessary before looking away.
I wanted to throw the paper away. I wanted to forget about it, forget about him, forget about everything that had happened between us. But the image of him with her-the love in his eyes when he looked at his wife, the way he smiled so effortlessly for the camera-kept replaying in my mind.
I grabbed the newspaper and walked back to the elevator, my steps heavier than they'd been before. I couldn't shake the image from my mind.
When I got back to his office, the air felt different-colder, more distant. As soon as I walked in, Dominic's gaze lifted to meet mine, and I could tell something was off. There was a faint flicker of something in his eyes, but I couldn't tell what it was.
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