Because this life is a lie.
Dominic gently turns me around to face him. “I have something planned for us tonight,” he says, smiling. “But before that…” His hands slide to my waist, pulling me closer. His mouth brushes my neck, slow and familiar, his lips lingering against my skin.
A shiver runs through me. My body remembers him instantly. His voice lowers near my ear. “We have plenty of time before I take you out tonight,” he murmurs. “I missed all of you.” His words carry a quiet hunger that makes my pulse jump. For a second, I let myself lean into it, into him. Then my eyes drift toward the staircase and everything in me locks down, bracing. The stairs feel like a rotten reminder of a place where everything I thought was real might have already broken.
I gently pull away from him. “My head is killing me,” I say softly. “The flight… I think I just need to lie down for a bit.”
Dominic studies my face for a second, concern replacing the playful warmth in his eyes. “Of course, my love,” he says immediately. I turn toward the stairs. Just as I place my foot on the first step, he speaks again.
“Era.” I pause and look back. “Everything okay?” For a moment, the truth almost slips out. But instead I force a small smile.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Just tired.”
Then I turn and walk upstairs.
***
I wake slowly. For a moment I don’t know where I am. Then the ceiling comes into focus. The soft afternoon light spilling through the curtains. The familiar quiet of our house. The bed beside me is empty. Something red catches my eye. Folded neatly at the foot of the bed is a dress. A deep, rich shade of red. Next to it lies a small handwritten note and I pick it up.
Went for a run. Back soon.
Wear this tonight, my love.
A smile slips onto my face before I can stop it. Unexpected and unwelcome. But there it is. I carry the dress into the bathroom and turn the shower on. Steam quickly fills the room, curling along the mirror as the hot water runs over my skin.
For a few minutes I let myself forget everything. The questions, betrayal, doubt. Just warm water and quiet. When I step out, I wrap a towel around myself and start getting ready. The mirror slowly fills with the version of me Dominic knows.
I curl my hair into loose waves, letting the dark strands fall over my shoulders. Soft makeup. Just enough. When I open the jewelry box on the dresser, a delicate bracelet catches my eye. Dominic gave it to me on our second anniversary. Thin gold links with a small diamond charm that catches the light whenever I move.
I fasten it around my wrist. Then I slip into the red dress. It fits like it was made for me. Soft lace curves along the neckline, dipping just low enough to reveal the gentle line of cleavage. The fabric hugs my waist before falling into a slit that runs high along my thigh.
When I walk downstairs, the front door opens at the same time. Dominic steps inside. He freezes. His eyes travel slowly from my heels to the curve of my waist, up to my face. That look. Possessive and Proud. Like he’s staring at something that belongs entirely to him.
“Well,” he says slowly, shutting the door behind him. “That’s unfair.”
I raise an eyebrow.
He steps closer. “I’d say I want to tear that dress off you right now,” he murmurs, voice dropping. “But that would ruin the surprise I have planned for you tonight.” A slow grin spreads across his face. “So I’ll wait.”
Despite myself, I tug a small smile. He studies me like he’s memorizing every detail.
“I think I’m crushing on my wife all over again.” Then he gestures toward the stairs. “Give me ten minutes. Five to shower. Five to get dressed.”
He winks. “Maybe six if I get distracted thinking about that dress.” Typical Dominic. He disappears upstairs, and moments later the shower turns on, followed by his off-key singing echoing down the hallway.
“Versace on the floor…” He reaches the chorus, loud and dramatic. “Take it off for me, for me, for me…”
I let out a small laugh despite everything.
God.
He’s ridiculous.
Still smiling, I wander toward his office. Something about it pulls me there. The door creaks open. His desk sits exactly how he left it. Laptop closed, stacks of medical paperwork neatly arranged. I slide open the top drawer. Training schedules, hospital forms, continuing education paperwork. The second drawer holds patient manuals and folders. Then I pull the bottom drawer. It stops halfway.
Locked.
I tug again.
