“Dominic?” Sienna’s voice was small, confused.
“Leave,” I snapped, not even glancing at her.
She scrambled to gather herself, sensing the shift—the way the air had turned from heavy to lethal. She slipped out the door, and I let a slow, dark exhale leave my chest.
I’d set a trap for Landon, and I’d used Carter as the bait to keep myself covered. So what if she’d seen me? So what if my body had reacted to the spark in her eyes? It didn't change the board.
Landon was ruined. My father’s hand-picked savior was a laughingstock once again. And I was the only one in the building with a clean pair of hands and a perfect alibi.
I turned and walked toward the stairs, the sound of the growing chaos downstairs finally reaching its peak. I didn't feel like a person who’d been caught; I felt like a guy who’d just regained his edge.
Carter was an irritation, yes, but an irritation that was currently losing its teeth. With Landon’s reputation bleeding out on the ballroom floor, she wouldn't have the footing to stand against me much longer. Her father was the only thing keeping her in my world, and I was currently watching his legacy turn to ash from the top of the staircase. By tomorrow, she wouldn't be a distraction—she’d be a memory.
But for now, the sound of Landon’s brief stint with me hitting the floor was enough to keep the scales even.
I adjusted my cuffs, smoothed my expression into one of concerned surprise, and headed down to watch the fallout. I wasn't just going to witness his humiliation; I was going to be the first one to offer him a hand while I stepped on his throat.
Chapter seven
Carter
The door clicked shut behind me.
Just a soft sound. Small. Harmless. But it felt like a gunshot under my ribs.
I stood in the dim hallway, breath snagging in my throat, pulse thrashing like it wanted out. My fingers were still curled into claws, holding onto the memory of the doorframe. I didn’t even realize I’d reached for the wall until my palm pressed flat against it, grounding me against something that wasn’t him.
I should have walked away the second the door budged. I should have spun around, marched back downstairs, and pretended I hadn’t watched Dominic Valerio come apart.
Except I had watched. I’d seen the way his head tipped back as his breath unraveled into something wrecked. But he hadn't even been looking at the female in his arms.
He’d been looking at me.
His eyes had stayed locked on mine, dark and predatory, and for one terrifying, silent second, it felt like he was trying to claim the space between us even then. Like his dominance issues were so massive, so suffocating, that he couldn't even finish a private moment without trying to make it a confrontation with me.
No.I shook my head, the movement sharp and frantic. I was overthinking it. I was giving him too much credit. There was no way a guy like Dominic—arrogant, emotionally unavailable, and entirely too full of himself—had actually been affected by me walking in. It was an accident of timing.
He hadn't been looking at me because hewantedto; he’d been looking at me to intimidate me. To show me that even caught like that, he was still the one in charge. It was a power play, nothing more. A disgusting, power-hungry display of dominance that made my stomach turn.
“What is wrong with me,” I said under my breath, the words paper-thin in the empty hall.
I pushed off the wall and forced myself toward the stairs. Every step was too fast, too uneven, as if motion alone could outrun the memory of his attention. I didn't want to think about him. I didn't want to think about the way he’d stared me down, like I was just another thing he intended to break.
I reached the banister, my fingers trembling with a mix of shock and pure, unadulterated loathing. But beneath the hatred, there was something else—a traitorous rush that had rooted itself deep in my bones the second his eyes had locked onto mine. My pulse wasn’t just racing from the walk; it was thrumming with a dark, electric rhythm I couldn't switch off.
For one sickening heartbeat, I realized I hadn't just been horrified. I’d beenwired. The raw, unfiltered intensity of it— the way he hadn't blinked, the way he’d watched me like he could corner me without ever touching me while he lost control—hadsparked a fuse I didn't know I had. It wasn't a look of affection; it was a challenge.
I descended quickly, my heels clicking a frantic rhythm against the floor, trying to outrun the shameful weight of my own arousal. I needed to find my father. I needed to get back to the real world, far away from Dominic’s hallway and the suffocating arrogance that seemed to be stitched into everything around him.
I wasn't rattled because ofhim. I was rattled because I hated what he represented, and yet he’d managed to reach inside me and pull a reaction out of my body that I hadn't authorized. It was a violation of my own control, a physical weight that made me want to scrub my skin raw just to shake the feeling of his focus clinging to me.
I stepped through the archway into the hall, and the air left my lungs.
Chaos.
Staff members were scrambling across the stage, their movements dancing frantically against the walls like a fever dream. The massive, tiered awards display—the center-piece of the TwoFold history—was a wreck. A heavy glass sculpture sat shattered on the floor, its remains glittering like ice under the harsh spotlights. Plaques were skewed at impossible angles, some dangling off the edge of the velvet-covered table as if the entire platform had been shoved by an invisible hand.
But the noise in the room was the worst part. It wasn't just a low drone of confusion; it was the sound of a hundred social grazers sensing blood in the water.
