Page 16 of Daddy's Accidental Babies

It was after three when I finally walked into Dominic’s office, which had been vacant all day so far. He looked up from his tablet and set it aside. His posture was relaxed, and there was no flicker of surprise, no visible tension in his shoulders, which made me wonder if he had expected me. He wore a crisp slate-gray suit today that made him look powerful. As he rose from hischair, his gaze locked on mine, entirely too calm for the storm still crackling under my skin.

“You saw the press piece,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

I closed the door behind me and stood with my back against it, forcing my shoulders to square, even though I wanted to slam that email down in front of him and demand answers. “Vanessa gave you a heads-up?” Of course she did. She worked for him, not Raven & Rhodes, not me, not my team.

He nodded. “Yesterday.”

I scoffed and narrowed my eyes. “And you let it happen anyway?” This was unbelievable. He had at least twelve hours, maybe as much as twenty-four to put a stop to this nonsense or at least call me and tell me what was going out to every employee and more than a dozen news outlets. My voice was raised with very good reason.

He didn’t flinch. “It was already signed off by the board.” His fingers tented in front of him, but as much as I wanted to see the malice behind his words, there was none. He was as docile as a puppy.

I stepped farther into the sleek, minimalist space he set up in our building, all clean lines and controlled symmetry. But I was anything but controlled. The heat that had simmered all day surged again. “But you could’ve stopped it. You could’ve said something.” Gesturing with my hands, I stepped closer to his modern desk.

His eyes met mine without flinching, calm on the surface but harder to read than usual. “I could have. But I didn’t.” Dominic straightened and smoothed his tie on his chest.

“Why not?” I asked as he walked around his desk and perched on the front edge. My body calmed significantly the closer I got to him but took on a different type of heightened state.

Resting one hand on the edge of his desk like he owned the place—and maybe he did—he said, “Because it’s not a bad move, Van…” I winced and clenched my jaw. Only one person in the world ever called me that, and I told him that in confidence.

“How dare you,” I said, more about using my nickname than the publicity stunt. I folded my arms. “It’s manipulative.”

“It’s strategic.”

“It’s a stunt,” I snapped, stepping closer. “Using my name, my image, dragging me into something I didn’t agree to?—”

“Our history,” he said evenly. “Which you refuse to acknowledge.” His eyes bored through me like he was seeing my soul come unraveled. How dare he use our past against me now.

My jaw clenched, but I found myself still moving closer. “Because it doesn’t belong in the boardroom.” I flailed my arm outward. “Because it doesn’t belong in the press. It’s irrelevant.”

“Doesn’t it? Because when I close my eyes, I can still taste you, Savannah. That doesn’t feel irrelevant.” Dominic narrowed his eyes at me in a much more seductive expression than I was prepared to handle. It made my heart flutter. He was so much better at this than Vanessa. She was all claws and fangs. Dominic was smolder and seduction, and I was weak in the knees.

The breath left my lungs too fast. His voice wasn’t raised, but it landed hard, with the precision of someone who knew exactly how to strike. “This isn’t about us,” I fumbled and he grinned, head tilted.

“That’s exactly what it’s about. You’re angry because this forces you to admit there’s still something here.”

“There’s nothing,” I protested with a tight-lipped snap of the jaw. I was lying, and he knew it. He read me the way I read him. The game of cat and mouse would end up with me being devoured if I wasn’t careful.

“Liar.” The word hung there, sharp and unforgiving. I felt it like a slap.

My body stayed rooted, but I could feel the cracks forming. I didn’t want to let him see it, didn’t want him to know how right he might be. He looked at me like he already did.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, softer now.

I kept my chin up, determined to toe the line. “I’m not afraid of anything,” I lied.

But I was. Not of him or what we did six years ago—but of what I had kept from him.

The truth lived in my house with peanut butter-stained pajamas and a pair of laugh lines that matched his when they giggled. Leo had his eyes; Cal had his charm. I’d told myself a thousand times that I was doing the right thing by staying silent, that keeping them a secret had been the only option. And maybe it was. But if the press kept pushing this narrative, if the photos circulated, someone would eventually connect the dots.

When they did, the fallout wouldn’t just be mine to deal with—it would touch them too. I wasn’t afraid of Dominic. I was afraid of what he’d see when he looked at them and realized I’d kept them from him. And worse—what it would cost them if this whole thing came crashing down in public view.

“You’ve been afraid since you saw me again. You’ve been afraid since the day I left.” His words were leading. He was baiting me, hoping I’d crack, but one thought of my boys strengthened my resolve, and anger surged again.

“Don’t tell me how I feel.” I looked away. My pulse was in my throat. My grip tightened around my middle, and I realized I was hugging myself defensively.

“Then say it. Say you don’t want me. Say you feel nothing.” He stepped closer, not enough to crowd me, but enough to make me feel the tension stretch between us like wire ready to snap. “You can’t,” he said.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because if I opened my mouth, I might not be able to stop. I might tell him everything—aboutthe twins, about the nights I stayed up staring at their faces, wondering if keeping them from him was unforgivable. About how many times I practiced the conversation in my head and still couldn’t find the words.

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