Page 127 of Filthy Dirty Dom

She took a deep breath, stepped out of the Uber, and showed the bouncer her ticket. She paused when the bouncer opened the door. She was really here, back in the world that was simultaneously alien and painfully familiar.

A pang of sadness washed over her, but she pushed it down. She was not here to dwell on the past, but to face her future. And that future might start with the man Alex was introducing her to. She squared her shoulders, lifting her chin, and stepped into the club. The past was gone. It was time to move on.

She quickly bypassed the quieter area of the club and made her way to the back where the thump of bass vibrated just beyond the second closed door and the air smelled of sweat and alcohol. Tonight, it all felt sharper, more potent.

When she passed through, her eyes immediately found Alex across the room, next to bodies gyrating to the heavy rhythm of the music and beyond that, the sexual acts on the stage. Alex stood at the bar next to a man she didn't recognize, but he was tall and strikingly handsome, his sandy hair catching the dim light.

Leslie swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest as she locked eyes with Alex. His expression was unreadable at first, a mask of stoicism. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a smile. Not the warm, genuine smile she'd come to associate with him, but a polite, business-like grin.

He was really doing this. He was going to introduce her to another man, someone to replace him in their arrangement. To take over the role of her dom. The very thought made her feel queasy. This was all wrong, it was too soon, too... impersonal.

She considered fleeing then and there, escaping back to the safety of her home. But a stubborn resolve hardened in her heart. She had come here for a reason, to draw a line under her relationship with Alex and move forward.

Her steps were shaky as she crossed the room, each footfall bringing her closer to the finality she both craved and dreaded.

"Leslie," he said, his voice carrying over the din of the club. "I'd like you to meet Gareth."

She offered a tight smile to the stranger, her hands trembling slightly as she extended it for a handshake. This was it. The point of no return. From here on, there was no going back.

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The sharp beat of the club's music vibrated through the floor and up Alex's legs as he watched the scene unfold before him. Leslie, radiant even in the dim light, standing before Gareth with a forced smile gracing her face.

As the two started talking, he found himself leaning against the bar, observing their interaction. The easy conversation, the shared laughs. As he watched them getting along, he struggled to contain his possessiveness in a way that felt like he was losing.

When Gareth offered Leslie a drink and she accepted, Alex forced himself to walk away, leaving Leslie and Gareth in their newly-formed bubble.

This was what he'd wanted, what he'd planned. But he could now admit that a part of him had secretly hoped they wouldn’t click, that Leslie would return to him and ask him to reconsider.

But it seemed fate had other ideas.

Exiting the club, he was hit by the cool night air. He flagged down a taxi, barely noticing the blur of the city passing by as he traveled home. His mind was elsewhere, stuck in a club with the woman he loved, and a man who was now poised to take his place.

Once home, he poured himself a stiff drink, nursing the glass as he sank into his armchair. His loft, usually a place of refuge, now felt uncomfortably large and empty. The only sound was the ticking of a clock, each second marking another moment he was away from Leslie. But above all, he was left with a gnawing feeling of loss, of something precious slipping through his fingers.

The next day, he took a spontaneous trip to Texas, to the town where he’d brought Mia after they’d learned she was pregnant and she’d renounced her family. His heart was heavy as he wandered through the hallowed grounds of the cemetery he visited every year. He passed rows upon rows of gravestones, each a stark reminder of lives once vibrant, now reduced to mere memories and etched words in cold stone.

He stopped when he reached the resting place of Mia and their unborn child.

Their graves were covered in a soft carpet of fresh, green grass, speckled with an array of vivid wildflowers, courtesy of the caretaker he paid to keep flowers on the graves. Even in death, Mia's love for vibrant colors lived on.

Kneeling, he traced the engraved letters of their names with his fingers—Mia and Lenore—feeling the cool, rough texture of the stone under his touch. The reality of their existence was now reduced to etched words and a date, which had a fresh wave of sorrow washing over him.

"I’m sorry it was Livia. But hopefully, finally, you can rest," he whispered, the words barely audible, carried away by the wind. But when he uttered the words, something miraculous happened. Alex felt a sense of peace that had long eluded him. The guilt, the shame, the remorse he had been carrying for years seemed to lessen. Not erased, not forgotten, but bearable.

The knowledge that Livia, the one who had brought such unspeakable tragedy upon them, was now dead—just as he’d expected, someone had accessed her jail cell and slit her throat the day after she was arrested—brought some comfort.

He stayed at the graves for an hour, talking to Mia about Leslie, hoping for comfort but somehow feeling as if she was suddenly chastising him. With a sigh, he stood and took one last look at the graves. "Goodbye, Mia. Goodbye, my little monkey," he said, his voice choked with emotion. “I’ll see you again.”

As he walked away and made his way back to New York, his mind was no longer preoccupied by the dead, but by Leslie. He tortured himself with images of Gareth fucking her until he was in an Uber back to his place, and his phone rang, displaying his brother's name on the screen.

"Hey, Lee," Alex greeted.

"Hey, Alex." Lee's familiar voice echoed in the car, steady and calm. "Everything okay?"

Alex hesitated. Nothing was okay but he couldn’t stand still. He had to keep moving forward. That meant leaving New York, just like he’d told Leslie he would, but he couldn’t leave without telling Lee the secrets he'd only recently shared with Leslie.

“I’m in an Uber. Let me call you when I get home.”

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