Chapter 18 — The Second Time

(Zara's POV)

When I walked in that night, Jane was already asleep on the sofa with the TV playing softly and her phone half-falling from her chest. I stood there for a moment, just watching her, wondering how she could look so peaceful when my own chest felt like it had been left slightly open all night.

I didn't wake her up. I just turned off the TV, took her phone, and left it on the table before going to my room.

But I didn't sleep.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, replaying what Dominic had said outside the building. It wasn't even the whole sentence that stuck with me. It was the way he'd stopped. The way he'd looked at me as if there was a line he was actively choosing not to cross.

I told myself it didn't mean anything. That they were just words said in a moment.

But I also knew that I was lying to myself.

The following week didn't change much on the outside. I kept going to work, kept managing events, kept speaking up when I needed to and staying silent when I didn't. Dominic kept showing up after my shifts, kept driving me home, kept asking about my day as if it mattered.

And each time, I told myself that I was getting used to it.

That wasn't true.

Jane noticed. She always noticed. She just stopped pressing me for answers in the same way, which somehow made it worse because it meant I'd decided to wait instead of interrupting.

On Saturday morning, my phone vibrated while I was still in bed.

A message.

I already knew who it was from before I even opened it.

Dominic.

The text was simple.

"Are you free tonight?"

My heart nearly stopped. A wave of something warm and sharp hit my chest, so sudden I had to sit down. I couldn't name the feeling. It wasn't just happiness. It wasn't just nerves. It was bigger than both of them, and I was scared by how much I liked it.

I stared at the screen for a long time, my thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Jane appeared from behind without warning.

"Is he asking you out?" she asked.

I almost jumped and almost dropped my phone.

"Girl, you scared me half to death," I said, pressing a hand against my chest.

She smiled and leaned over my shoulder.  

—What are you doing? Answer the message.

I hesitated, my fingers frozen.

Jane elbowed me in the arm.  

—Come on. Don't overthink it. Just answer.

I wrote it before I could convince myself otherwise.

"Depends."

His response came almost immediately.

"About what?"

I sat up straight now, wrapping myself in the sheet, aware that my heart was doing something it had no right to do so early in the morning. The heat in my chest was still there, fluttering and impossible to ignore.

I wrote again.

"Whether this is work or not."

The three dots appeared, disappeared, and reappeared. It didn't respond immediately, and that alone felt like its own answer. I lay back down and stared at the ceiling while I waited.

Four minutes later, his answer arrived.

"It's not work."

I read it twice. Then a third time. The feeling in my chest grew stronger, as if something bright and terrifying was opening up inside me. I still couldn't name it. I only knew I wanted to say yes.

I didn't respond after that.

I stood up in his place.

Jane was already in the kitchen when I came out, her hair pulled back, cup in hand, watching me without saying anything at first. She looked at me for a long moment, then tilted her head slightly.

"You're going out," he said.

—I didn't say that.

—You didn't have to do it.

I ignored her and went back to my room, but I could feel her following me with her eyes even from the hallway.

When I started choosing clothes, she leaned against the door frame and watched me.

After a while he finally spoke.

—You look like someone who has already made a decision.

I stopped with the dress in my hand.

—I haven't done it.

She nodded as if she expected him to say that.

—Yes, you have —he replied simply.

I didn't answer.

She entered the room properly now, took the dress from my hand and held it as if she were reconsidering my entire life choice.

—No —he said.

I frowned.  

—No what?

—Not this one.

I saw her go through my closet as if it were hers, taking out something I hadn't even used yet. She handed it to me without explanation.

"Put this one on," he said.

—I didn't ask you for help.

"I know," he replied. "That's why I'm helping you."

I changed without further argument. When I finally came out again, she stared at me for a long moment.

Then he nodded once.

"Better," he said.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. Jane followed me into the hallway.

"You'll see," he said.

-I'm going out.

—That wasn't a denial.

I stopped at the door but didn't turn around immediately.

"I don't know what this is," I said quietly.

Jane did not respond immediately.

When I finally looked back, she was leaning against the wall, with her arms crossed.

"You don't have to know yet," she said. "Just don't lie to yourself while you're figuring it out."

I left before he could say anything else.

Outside, the car was already waiting.

I went up without asking questions.

The journey was silent, but not empty. It felt as if something was building toward a point neither of them had yet named.

When we arrived at the penthouse, he was already there waiting.

No suit jacket this time. Just a simple shirt, with the sleeves slightly rolled up. His eyes met mine immediately.

It didn't move at first. Neither did I.

Then he stepped aside and let me in without saying a word.

We didn't talk much at first.

We had dinner. We talked about small things. Work, schedules, agendas. Things that should have been professional but no longer felt that way.

And beneath all that, there was something else that neither of them was naming.

When dinner was over, he got up first and started clearing the table.

I watched him for a moment before getting up and approaching him.

She didn't ask me what I was doing. She just let me approach.

I stopped beside him.

"I thought about what you said," I told him.

He paused slightly, now looking at me.

"Outside the building," I added.

"So?" he asked.

I hesitated for only a second.

—And I came anyway.

That was all I said. He put down what he was holding and looked at me straight, as if the rest of the room no longer existed.

I said his name before I could think about it too much.

—Dominic.

Her voice was lower when she answered.

-I know.

Then he closed the space between us, and this time I didn't move away.

He moved slowly, giving me every chance to change my mind. He pulled me closer until there was almost no room left, his hand resting lightly on my waist. He waited, his eyes locked on mine, searching for any sign that I might want to push him away.

I didn't do it.

My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. Heat coursed through my body, building down below and making my thighs clench on their own. I felt myself getting wet, right there in his kitchen, just from the way he was looking at me.

Then his other hand moved up, his fingers brushing my jaw before sliding gently into my hair. The touch was careful, almost reverent, but I could feel the same tension I'd been carrying for weeks.

He leaned forward.

The first touch of his lips against mine was soft, almost hesitant. But the moment I returned the kiss, something inside both of us broke.

The kiss deepened quickly, becoming hungry and desperate. My hands closed in the front of his shirt as I pulled him closer, and he responded by wrapping his arms around me, one hand pressing firmly against my lower back while the other tangled deeper in my hair. We kissed as if we'd been starving for it.

I tasted the wine we'd had with dinner on his tongue. I felt the low moan that vibrated in his chest when I bit his lower lip. I heard my own breath fracture when he tilted my head and kissed me harder.

When we finally separated to breathe, we were both breathing heavily. Her forehead rested against mine for a moment, her eyes closed as if she were trying to steady herself.

—Zara… —His voice was hoarse, almost forced.

I didn't let him finish.

I kissed him again.

This time he didn't hesitate.

In one fluid motion, he lifted me from the floor. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he carried me through the penthouse, never breaking the kiss. I barely registered the movement, only the sensation of his strong arms around me, the solid warmth of his chest, and the way his mouth never left mine.

He kicked open the bedroom door and dragged me inside. When he got me down on the bed, he immediately followed me, leaning on top of me.

We kissed like we couldn't get enough, deep, messy, breathless kisses that left us both panting. His hands roamed my sides, my hips, my thighs, not pushing too far but clearly fighting the urge to do so. I tugged at his shirt until he moved back far enough so I could pull it over his head.

My fingers traced the lines of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palm. He made a low sound deep in his throat and captured my mouth again, slower this time, as if he wanted to savor every second.

We stayed like that for a long time, kissing, touching, learning how the other responded. Every brush of his lips against my neck made me shiver. Every time my hands slid down his back, he pressed closer, his hips settling between my thighs in a way that made the heat build even more intensely.

Eventually he moved far enough away to look at me, his eyes dark and heavy, breathing heavily.

"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice low and hoarse, "and I will."

I said nothing for a moment, I just looked at him, his hair tousled by my fingers, his lips slightly swollen from kisses, the careful control he used to maintain completely gone.

Instead, I lifted the

I pulled it down by hand and lowered it again.

"I don't want you to stop," I whispered against her mouth.

His response was another deep kiss, slower and more deliberate this time, like a promise.

And for the rest of the night, neither of them held back anymore.