Chapter 4 Chapter 4

CASSIAN'S POV

I changed my outfit seven times.

Seven. Times.

Not because I cared what Dominic Costello thought of my appearance. Absolutely not. I couldn't give less of a shit whether he approved of my fashion choices. The only reason I kept changing was because I needed to look presentable. Professional. Like someone who had their life together and wasn't being blackmailed by a six-foot-four tattooed menace.

That's what I told myself, anyway.

At 7:45, I finally settled on a black cashmere sweater, lightweight but expensive, the kind that hinted at old money without trying too hard and dark grey tailored trousers. My hair was still damp from the shower I'd taken specifically to calm my nerves. It hadn't worked. I'd pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose approximately forty-seven times in the last hour.

I was nervous.

No. I wasn't nervous. I was strategically alert. There was a difference.

My own phone was still in his possession. The thought made my skin crawl. Every private conversation, every photo, every saved password, all of it sitting in the hands of a man who had made it his life's mission to dismantle me piece by piece.

I grabbed the keys to my Audi and headed out.

---

The drive to Dominic's apartment took twenty-three minutes. I know because I counted every single one of them. The city lights blurred past my window, neon reflections smearing across the glass like watercolors. My grip on the steering wheel was white-knuckled, my jaw clenched so tight I could feel my teeth threatening to crack.

You could still turn around.

The thought whispered through my mind as I pulled into the underground parking garage of The Morrison, one of the most expensive residential buildings in the city. Of course Dominic lived here. Of course he had floor-to-ceiling windows and a doorman and probably a private elevator that played classical music.

Nothing about this man was allowed to be mediocre.

I parked in the visitor section and sat in the car for a full five minutes, staring at the concrete wall in front of me. My heart was doing something irregular in my chest, skipping beats, then racing to catch up. My palms were clammy despite the car's air conditioning.

You don't have to do this.

But I did. He had my phone. He had that video of me lurking around the party like some kind of desperate stalker. If that footage got out, if my father saw it, the internship would be the least of my worries.

I got out of the car.

The elevator ride to the top floor was exactly as pretentious as I'd imagined. Marble floors. Gold accents. Soft instrumental music that sounded like something you'd hear in a spa for people who had more money than sense. The doors opened onto a private landing with only one door, his.

I stood there for a moment, adjusting my sweater, pushing up my glasses, trying to remember how to breathe like a normal human being.

Then I rang the bell.

Nothing.

I waited ten seconds. Rang it again.

Nothing.

A cold trickle of unease slid down my spine. Had he given me the wrong address? Was this some kind of elaborate prank designed to make me look like an idiot standing outside an empty apartment?

I checked the time on my watch. 8:02. I wasn't late. He was just an asshole.

I raised my hand to knock, a sharp, insistent rap against the wood when I noticed something that made my stomach drop.

The door was ajar.

Just slightly. A sliver of darkness between the frame and the door itself, barely visible unless you were looking for it. But I was looking. I was always looking when it came to Dominic Costello, because not looking meant getting ambushed.

Don't go inside. This is obviously a trap. Turn around, go home, figure out another way to get your phone back.

But my feet were already moving. My hand was already pushing the door open. My body had apparently decided to betray me long before my brain could catch up.

The apartment was dark. Not completely, there were lights on somewhere deeper inside, casting long shadows across the marble foyer but the entryway itself was bathed in dim, moody darkness. I stepped inside, my footsteps muffled by a rug that probably cost more than my first car.

The place was insane.

A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, its facets catching the distant light and scattering it like tiny diamonds. The walls were adorned with original artwork, actual originals, not prints that I recognized from auctions my father had dragged me to. A grand staircase curved upward to a second floor I couldn't see. Every surface looked like it had been imported from somewhere expensive.

Maybe he walked out. Maybe he's not even here. Maybe I can grab my phone and leave before…

I turned the corner into the drawing room.

And my entire world stopped.

Dominic was sitting on the couch.

Not sitting, exactly. Languishing. His massive frame was sprawled across the enormous leather sectional like he owned not just the apartment but the very air inside it. His head was tipped back against the cushions, his eyes half-lidded, his lips curved into an expression that could only be described as devastating.

He was completely naked.

Every inch of him. The snake tattoo that covered his back was visible even from this angle, its painted scales rippling as he shifted his weight. His chest was broad and sculpted, covered in a light dusting of dark hair that trailed down his abdomen in a line that was absolutely, categorically unfair. His thighs were massive, thick with muscle from years of football spread wide apart in a posture that radiated ownership.

But that wasn't what made me freeze.

What made me freeze was the man kneeling between his legs.

Another guy. Young, maybe a year or two older than us. Also completely naked. His head was bowed, his hands braced on Dominic's thighs, and his mouth…

His mouth was wrapped around Dominic's cock.

I couldn't look away.

I couldn't.

My breath hitched in my throat, an audible, embarrassing sound that seemed to echo through the room like a gunshot. The guy on his knees didn't react. He just kept moving, kept sucking, kept doing whatever he was doing that made Dominic's abs flex like that.

But Dominic?

Dominic noticed.

His head tilted forward slowly, like a predator who had just caught the scent of something interesting. His eyes found mine across the room, dark, intense, burning with something that made my blood feel like it was boiling in my veins.

He smiled.

Not his usual mocking grin. Something slower. Lazier. More dangerous.

His hand came up and fisted in the kneeling man's hair. Not gently. His knuckles went white with the force of his grip. And then he pushed, shoved the guy's head down until his nose was buried against Dominic's pelvis, until the man gagged audibly, his throat convulsing around the intrusion.

But Dominic's eyes never left mine.

Not once.

The guy gagged again, a wet, choking sound that should have disgusted me. And maybe it did. Maybe that's why my stomach was twisting in knots. Maybe that's why my breath was coming in short, shallow gasps. Maybe that's why I couldn't seem to move my feet from where they were nailed to the floor.

Dominic's hips rolled upward. His grip on the man's hair tightened. His jaw was slack, his lips parted, and his eyes, God, his eyes were drilling into me like he was trying to crawl inside my skull.

He was putting on a show.

For me.

The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. This wasn't about the guy on his knees. This was never about the guy on his knees. This was about me. Walking into his apartment. Seeing this. Reacting.

And I was reacting. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire. My face was flushed. My hands were trembling. My pulse was pounding so loudly in my ears that I could barely hear the wet, obscene sounds coming from the couch.

Dominic's hips stuttered.

His eyes widened, just fractionally and then narrowed again, sharp and focused and triumphant. His mouth fell open. A low groan rumbled from his chest, vibrating through the room like thunder.

And then he came.

I watched it happen. I watched his body tense, every muscle going rigid as he poured himself down the man's throat. I watched his hand tighten in the guy's hair, holding him in place. I watched his eyes, his eyes never left mine as he rode out the wave of his orgasm, his chest heaving, his abs contracting, his lips forming a word that I couldn't hear but could read perfectly.

Sunshine.

The guy on his knees swallowed. Gagged again. Pulled off with a wet pop and sat back on his heels, looking dazed and debauched and completely forgotten.

Because Dominic was already pushing him aside.

Already standing up, naked, still hard, still dripping and taking a step toward me.

Already winking.

That casual, infuriating, possessive wink that said everything and nothing all at once.

"Right on time," he said. His voice was rough. Destroyed. It did something to my chest that I refused to name. "I was starting to think you weren't coming."

I took a step back.

My heel hit the doorway. The floor. Anything to put distance between us.

Because I understood now.

I understood everything.

The door left ajar. The lights dimmed just enough. The scene is perfectly staged for maximum impact. He hadn't just wanted me to come here. He'd wanted me to see this. To walk into his territory and watch him claim someone else while he lo

oked at me like I was the one on my knees.

I had walked into a trap.

No….worse than a trap.

I had walked into the lion's den.

And the lion was smiling.