Dominic's Chronicles
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The morning broke as it always did for me—precisely, without hesitation. By six, I was already dressed, cufflinks in place, jacket pressed, the faint scent of coffee and polished leather filling my office downstairs.
Last night lingered faintly in memory. Her pale figure standing at the edge of the hall, clutching a glass of water, startled like a doe in the woods. The nod. The silence. The way her steps fled the moment I finished speaking.
I pushed the thought aside. It wasn't relevant. She was here because she had to be, because duty demanded it—not because I had space for distraction.
And distraction was all she was capable of creating.
My phone buzzed with the first set of reports. I scanned them, signing off on two contracts before my second cup of coffee had cooled. Meetings lined the day like soldiers in formation, and I welcomed the weight of them. They reminded me who I was. What mattered.
By the time I stood, jacket buttoned, the staff moved silently around me, prepared for departure. My car was waiting. I gave a final glance toward the staircase that led to the private floors.
Her door would still be closed. Sleeping, perhaps, or pretending to.
It didn't matter.
"Tell Miss Sinclair," I instructed the head maid, my tone flat, clipped, "that the driver will be at her disposal should she require anything during the day. She is not to wander unaccompanied outside the property."
"Yes, sir," the woman said with a bow of her head.
The engine hummed low, pulling us toward the gates of the property. And just as we moved past the curve of the drive, I saw her.
Up there at the hall window, pale against the glass. Watching.
Her eyes fixed on the car, on me, though her expression was unreadable from the distance. Fragile. Silent. Like a ghost pressed between light and shadow.
I didn't look twice. And with that, I left, my mind already consumed by the battles of the boardroom, where weakness had no place.
Whatever shadows haunted her nights were hers to carry. I had no intention of carrying them for her.
I stepped into the office, the familiar hum of the staff greeting me with half-muttered hellos. Their eyes flickered, measuring the aura I carried like it was air. I didn't greet them back. I didn't need to. My presence was enough.
Morning meetings. A stack of contracts thicker than my patience. I tore through them, signing, stamping, correcting mistakes before anyone could flinch.
"Sir, there's a discrepancy in the Marlowe account—"
I didn't even look up. "Correct it. And double-check the rest before I waste another minute on negligence."
The young associate's color drained. I didn't care. Mistakes were for the careless. Not for someone like me.
Lunch passed without pause. Coffee in one hand, tablet in the other, eyes scanning figures, graphs, projections.
The office had grown quiet; they'd learned—don't interrupt. Don't breathe too loudly. Don't exist.
And yet, through all that routine, through every calculated step of my day, I caught myself glancing at the window too often.
Just a fraction of a second, then back to business. But her image—Aurora at the hall window—refused to leave. Quiet. Observant.
No. I shut it down. I am not here to think about her. She's… irrelevant. Weak. Vulnerable. The last thing I need in my life.
My phone buzzed on the desk, vibrating through the polished surface. Caller ID: Dad. I rolled my eyes but answered anyway.
"Dom," his voice came through, steady but not overly formal. "How's… everything going with Aurora?"
I leaned back, keeping my voice even. "She's settling in. Everything's fine."
There was a brief pause on the line, then his voice softened just a fraction. "I know you're busy, son… but she's new here. It's a big change. Don't… ignore it."
"I'm not ignoring it," I said sharply, though I kept my composure. "She knows the rules. She'll adapt."
Another pause. "You were like this at her age," he said, almost a murmur. "Cold. Distant. But I just… want to make sure she's not overwhelmed. That's all. Don't make it harder than it has to be."
"I can handle it," I replied, crisp, letting the edge of irritation slip through.
"Alright…" he said, the tension lingering just beneath his words. "Just… keep an eye on her, Dom. In your own way. That's all I'm asking."
I hung up, setting the phone down with a measured sigh. Familiar, yes—but weighted. There was expectation in his voice. And I didn't like expectations.
I barely had time to set my phone down before the door swung open.
"Dom, you in here?" Damien's voice cut through the office. He leaned against the frame, casually sprawled, like he owned the place. I didn't glance up.
"I'm here," I said flatly, my eyes still scanning the documents on my desk.
He stepped in, closing the door behind him. "Busy, huh? Big meeting later?"
"Always," I replied, voice clipped. I didn't need small talk, but with Damien, there was a rhythm—he pushed, I held the line.
He dropped into the chair across from me, spinning slightly. "So… how's the world treating you today? Cold as usual?" he teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I don't do warmth," I said without looking up.
He chuckled, unbothered. "I know, I know… but come on, man, lighten up a bit. You're scaring the interns half to death."
I finally looked up, letting my gaze settle on him. "They'll survive. They always do."
"Of course," he said, nodding, pretending to take me seriously. Then he leaned back, arms behind his head. "So… anything new? Any gossip from the outside world?"
I allowed a thin edge of annoyance to slip in. "Nothing that concerns you."
He raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Oh, come on, Dom. You're never going to tell me anything, huh?"
I didn't answer. Instead, I turned my attention back to the papers, letting him talk around me, letting him get used to the cold wall I always carried.
The conversation drifted, mostly him throwing playful jabs, me responding in measured, clipped tones.
But beneath it all, there was that unspoken understanding—Damien was the only one I didn't keep fully at arm's length, the one who could navigate the cold without flinching.
Damien leaned back in his chair, whistling softly. "You've been quieter than usual today. Something on your mind?"
I didn't answer immediately, letting the silence stretch. I could feel his curiosity probing, but I didn't plan on giving anything away. "Nothing that concerns you," I repeated, sharper this time.
He smirked knowingly. "Right… you and your secrets." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Speaking of which, did the folks say anything about… her?"
I tensed imperceptibly but kept my face neutral. "No."
His grin faltered, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "No? You're not going to… spill?"
"Not my concern right now," I said flatly. "Focus on your work."
Damien shrugged, though the curiosity didn't leave his eyes. "Always so cold, Dom. I swear, one day your icy wall's going to freeze someone solid."
I allowed a faint, almost imperceptible smirk, just enough for him to notice, before returning my attention to the contracts in front of me. Damien chuckled, realizing I'd said all I would, and leaned back with a shake of his head.
He leaned back in his chair, grinning like he had some secret amusement only he knew. "You know, Dom… if you were around more, maybe people would be lively instead of… you."
I raised an eyebrow, trying not to let the corner of my mouth twitch. But the faint smirk was inevitable. "People would be lively, huh? Sounds like a challenge."
He chuckled, leaning forward. "Explosive, I'd say. You'd probably survive it. Not sure about anyone else."
I let out a short, almost inaudible laugh, the kind that barely registers. He noticed immediately and his grin widened. "Ah! There it is! The cold stone CEO can laugh! Rare sighting!"
"Don't push it," I said, trying to hide the warmth that slipped through.
"Relax, big bro. I'm just saying, you're missing out. But hey, I'll come home today. Brighten up your… I mean, your elegant, lonely abode."
I leaned back in my chair, eyes narrowing slightly. "You don't need to. I can manage perfectly fine without you intruding."
He waved a dismissive hand, still grinning. "Please… your lonely empire isn't complete without me. Besides, someone has to make sure you're not working yourself to death."
I shook my head, letting a faint sigh escape. "Fine. Come. But don't expect any… fanfare."
"Fan-freaking-tastic. I'll bring enough chaos to make your stoic self cry a little."
I didn't reply. Instead, I returned my gaze to the contracts on my desk, letting him stew in his anticipation.
The office remained cold and quiet, but somewhere beneath it all, I felt a twinge of relief that Damien would be there today.
For now, the secret stayed with me. She was here, in my house, but Damien didn't need to know. Not yet. Maybe later tonight.
The office hummed with quiet, punctuated by the faint clicking of keyboards and the occasional ring of a phone.
I let the moment settle, the cold calm of my domain restored, my mind already shifting toward the day's other obligations, carefully keeping her presence in the house locked away, unspoken.