Emilia lost track of the time she and Dominic spent together. The club’s energy pulsed around them, but their corner felt insulated, almost private. She found herself watching the way his fingers cradled his glass, the way he sometimes rolled his shoulders back as if stretching out tension no one else could see.
A bell sounded, soft but clear, near the main bar. Conversation faded. Dominic finished his drink and stood, offering his hand. Emilia hesitated for a moment, then slid her fingers into his. His grip was certain, his skin warm against hers.
He led her through a narrow hallway to a smaller room where a group was gathering. The space was intimate, walls lined with shelves of dark books, a round table at the centre. The air in here was thicker, the lights dimmer. Emilia sat beside Dominic, the velvet of his jacket brushing her bare arm. When she settled, her knee touched his under the table. She meant to move, but he didn’t shift away. His quiet acceptance sent a jolt through her.
A man in a charcoal suit stood at the front of the table. “Tonight, we offer a game,” he said. “Voluntary, but encouraged. Draw a card. Answer the question honestly, or take the dare.”
Emilia watched Dominic, waiting for his reaction. He nodded once, as if to say this was nothing unusual. The group took turns, laughter bubbling up as questions were answered and dares accepted.
When it was Emilia’s turn, her hand shook slightly as she drew a card. She glanced at Dominic, his gaze steady on her. She turned the card over: What do you most desire right now?
She felt the room fall away. There was a warmth at her side—Dominic’s thigh pressed to hers, his breath slow and regular. She could feel his presence as if it was its own gravity. Her answer surprised her.
“Clarity,” she said quietly. “And to want something without being afraid of it.”
The words hung in the air, honest and a little raw. A woman across the table smiled, nodding in quiet understanding. Dominic’s hand, resting on his knee, shifted slightly closer to hers, and she felt the contact, light but deliberate.
The game moved on. Sometimes she was aware of nothing but the questions, the laughter. Other times, she was only aware of Dominic—the warmth of his leg against hers, the way his breathing stayed calm and steady, almost as if he meant for her to notice.
When Dominic’s turn came, he drew a dare. He read it aloud, and for the first time, his voice was just a shade quieter:
“Share a secret you’ve never told anyone in this room.”
He glanced at the group, but his eyes landed on Emilia and stayed there. “I’m not as certain as I seem,” he said, voice even. It was a small confession, but Emilia heard the weight behind it. The silence in the room was respectful; no one pressed for more.
The game wrapped up with a round of laughter, gentle applause. As the group drifted away, Emilia lingered at the table, heart still beating faster than usual.
Dominic tipped his head toward the hallway. “Come.”
She followed him out. The lounge had changed—music softer, lights lower, people sitting closer. Dominic guided her to a secluded booth. When she slid onto the seat, his leg pressed against hers again. This time, she didn’t move away.
He watched her, eyes patient and attentive. “How are you feeling?”
Emilia glanced down, then back at him. “Exposed,” she admitted, her voice lower. “But I think I like it.”
He nodded. “That’s how it starts. Most people expect to feel on display. But it can be something else, too. It can be freeing.”
She looked at him, noticing the slow rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing. For a moment, she focused on nothing else. It steadied her, even as it made her pulse skip.
Dominic leaned in closer, their faces only inches apart. “If you want to leave, just say so. If you want more—ask.”
His voice was calm but there was something in it, some promise, that made her want to say yes to anything he offered.
She didn’t answer right away. She let the silence stretch, let herself feel the warmth of his body, the thrill of being wanted, and the safety of knowing she could choose. Her nerves had changed now—less fear, more anticipation.
Tonight, she hadn’t run from the game. Tonight, she wanted to play.