The physical sensation of being filled by him is intense—hot and intimate. But it’s the words that undo me—you’ve earned it—as though I’m finally worthy of something.
It’s strange how different this feels from the Hunt. There, everything was about power and control, about using my body as a weapon against my father. Here, strung out and vulnerable on Dominic’s couch with Ryder still throbbing inside me, it feels like reclaiming something that was taken from me.
For so long, my body hasn’t felt like my own. It was a thing to be controlled—by my father’s reputation, by social expectations, by the hands that would grab my arm too tightly at dinner. Even during the Hunt, I gave my body to these men partly to spite him, to make my own choice even if it was a self-destructive one.
But this—Ryder looking at me with something dangerous and tender in his eyes, our bodies connected in the most primal way—this feels like mine. A choice made not in rebellion but in desire. In need.
33
DOMINIC
Ipush through the door of my penthouse, exhaustion weighing on my shoulders after twelve hours of damage control meetings. William Pike’s announcement has spooked investors, and I’ve spent the day reassuring them that their money is safe despite the political attacks.
The first thing I hear is laughter—Ryder’s deep chuckle, Cora’s lighter one, and Liam’s sardonic tone weaving between them. I follow the sound to the living room, my footsteps silent against the marble floor.
I freeze in the doorway, the sight before me knocking the air from my lungs.
They’re tangled together on the sectional—Cora curled in Ryder’s lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, head tucked beneath his chin. Liam sits pressed against them, one arm draped casually around Ryder’s shoulders, fingertips just brushing Cora’s hair. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, comfortable and intimate.
Something sharp twists in my chest. They look right together. Complete.
Without me.
I stand motionless, an outsider witnessing something I wasn’t meant to see. The pain in my chest intensifies, unfamiliar and unwelcome. I don’t do jealousy—I’m Dominic fucking Vega. I take what I want. I don’t yearn for inclusion like some pathetic teenager.
Yet the question burns through me: Where do I fit in this picture?
In the Hunt, my role was clear. I led. They followed. But here, in the real world, the lines have blurred. They’ve formed connections while I’ve been busy trying to bury my head in the sand over what this is.
My jaw tightens as I watch Ryder whisper something that makes Cora giggle, Liam’s eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles at them both.
This tight feeling in my chest—I can’t name it. Don’t want to. It feels too much like fear, like loss.
Like longing.
I shift my weight, ready to retreat to my office before they notice me standing here like some lovesick fool. Work is safer. Clearer. I understand the rules there.
The floorboard beneath my Italian leather shoe creaks softly.
Ryder’s head snaps up, his eyes finding mine instantly. Instead of the awkwardness I expect—the scrambling to create space—his face breaks into that lazy smile that’s always felt like it’s designed specifically to get under my skin.
“Come on over, Daddy, and stop watching,” Ryder calls out, throwing me a wink that’s equal parts invitation and challenge. It’s like he can read every conflicted thought racing through my mind.
The pet name hits differently here than it did during the Hunt. There, it was a performance. Here, in my home, it feels raw.
I force my expression to remain neutral even as heat crawls up my neck. I hate that he can see through me so easily, that he somehow understands what I’m feeling before I’ve even processed it myself.
“Long day?” Liam asks, not moving his arm from around Ryder, not making space as if expecting me to find my own.
Cora shifts in Ryder’s lap, her eyes meeting mine with a complexity I can’t quite read.
I remain frozen, caught between the instinct to assert dominance—to remind them all that this is my penthouse, these are my rules—and the unfamiliar urge to join them, to sink into whatever easy comfort they’ve found without me.
“You going to stand there all night?” Ryder prompts, patting the space beside him. “We saved you a spot.”
I hesitate a moment longer before moving toward them. I’m not used to this—joining rather than commanding, fitting into a space rather than creating it.
Cora looks up at me, those green eyes cutting straight through my defenses. There’s a challenge there, but also something that looks like... an invitation. Fuck if I can refuse her when she looks at me like that. I’ve never been able to, not from the first moment I saw her.
