Chapter 9

Declan couldn’t figure out why a guy like Dominic would ever settle down. With that killer face, ripped physique, and a last name that basically unlocked the world, he was the kind of dude who pulled people in without even trying.

“And… I’m married,” Dominic said, cool as a cucumber.

Declan was still reeling from the last shocker when this one landed, hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Dominic glanced at Declan, who was frozen like a spooked deer, and a tiny smirk crept onto his face. “To Beyen Evenez. Got the marriage license in my car—want to check it out?”

Declan just gawked at him, brain on mute for what felt like ages. Finally, he threw up a thumbs-up and croaked, “Man, you’re something else.”

Dominic was still the same old Dominic—always topping what anyone thought he could pull off.

Over on Brynn’s end, she hung up the phone and felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She slid down the bedframe to the carpet, too wiped to stand, and pulled her knees up, hugging them tight. Her eyes caught the liquor bottles on the nightstand. Screw it, she snagged one, twisted it open, and took a big gulp straight from the bottle.

Growing up, Maris never gave Randy the son he was obsessed with, so he acted like Maris didn’t exist. Brynn thought if she played it cool and hustled harder, maybe Randy would come around and give her and Maris some love. But Randy was never happy. Nothing she did cut it. She’d always figured it was her fault, that she was the screw-up—until she was twelve and stumbled onto the real deal: Randy had a side chick. And a kid. A boy.

“Mom, I only kept it quiet so you wouldn’t get wrecked. Was that messed up?” Brynn’s voice wobbled as she mumbled to herself. She slammed back another swig of liquor, tears rolling down her face without her even trying to stop them. “I just… I just wanted a family,” she whispered, so quiet it barely counted. A real, solid family—that’s all she ever dreamed of. But life kept throwing curveballs. Her folks drifted further apart, and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Tears hit the carpet. Brynn let out a sharp, bitter laugh, grabbed the bottle, and chugged again. Maybe the sting of the booze could numb the hurt for a bit. That’s what she kept telling herself.

Time got fuzzy, and eventually the villa’s front door squeaked open. Dominic slipped in, easing it shut behind him with soft steps. It was late—way past midnight. He figured Brynn would be crashed out by now. But when he flicked on the living room’s dim night-light, there she was: sprawled on the couch, totally trashed, empty bottles scattered across the coffee table like a war zone.

Dominic stopped dead. Thinking about what she’d been through today, a little wave of pity softened his eyes. He walked over quietly, crouched by the couch, and gently pulled the empty bottle from her grip. He set it down with a soft clink. “Dummy,” he muttered under his breath, then leaned in to scoop her up and haul her to bed.

“Mmm…” Brynn let out a sleepy grunt. She shifted—and then, out of nowhere, her hand flew up and latched onto his tie. One yank, and Dominic, still leaning over, lost his footing. He crashed onto her, their bodies tangling up in a messy pile. Her boozy breath hit his face. Their lips grazed—just for a split second—before pulling back. Dominic’s throat tightened as he stared down at her, her blurry eyes glued to his.

“Brynn, you…” He started to say something, fishing for words. Dominic went to say something, but Brynn cut him off, yanking his tie and smashing her lips into his. That kiss lit up the room, turning the chill living room into something hot and charged in seconds. Their clothes started getting messy as things ramped up, and right when they were about to go all in, Brynn let a name slip that didn’t fit.

“Chase…” she mumbled, barely even aware she’d said it. It was like someone dumped cold water on Dominic. The fire in him died out fast. He pulled back, his face going dark and hard to read.

“You’re wasted,” he said, his voice flat and icy, starting to get up.

“No, don’t leave…” Brynn grabbed his arm, blinking up at him through her drunken fog. “Wait… hold on…” She shook her head, squinting like she was trying to get his face to stop spinning. “No… you’re not that loser Chase. You’re way better-looking…” she slurred, a dopey grin taking over her face.

Dominic, who’d been pissed a second ago, felt his mood flip. A little smirk crept onto his lips.

“Then who am I?” He stared right into her eyes, his voice dropping low and gravelly.

“You’re…” Brynn’s pale hand slid up to wrap around his neck, her body half-draping over his chest.

“You smell so freaking good…” She buried her face in his neck, giggling like a goofball. Her cheek rubbed against his skin, her lips brushing his ear as she talked, sending a twitchy shiver down his spine. Now it wasn’t just his ear tingling—his whole chest was buzzing, feelings kicking up a mess inside him.

“Heh, you’re my… my husband. My husband smells this nice. I got a whiff of him when I kissed him today,” Brynn’s grin got bigger, like she’d just remembered the best thing ever. Her brain seemed to float back to the Clerk’s Office, and she leaned in closer, whispering like it was a secret, “Don’t tell anybody, but my husband’s lips? Super soft?”

Dominic couldn’t even keep up with her ramblings anymore. Her warm breath kept hitting his ear and neck, her entire body squirming against him in his arms. A hotter, crazier rush than before tore through him, lighting him up from head to toe.

“Bryan… do you even get what you’re saying?” His voice came out rough, like he was holding it together by a thread.

“Yup,” she chirped, still grinning like everything was peachy. Brynn reached up with both hands, grabbing his face, her eyes still all hazy and drunk. Her slim fingers ran over his cheeks—across his eyes, down his nose, hanging out on his lips.

“We’re married…” she said as her fingertips brushed his mouth, light as anything. “So you’re mine now,” she said, dead serious, no second-guessing. Then she kissed him again. This one hit different—sloppy, needy, all in. Their already messed-up clothes came apart even more—Dominic’s shirt flapped open, a couple buttons gone, showing off his chiseled chest and killer abs. Brynn’s hands got brave, sliding over his stomach as she mumbled, half out of it, “Mmm, sweet smooth chocolate.” Dominic’s gut tightened, his breathing going all over the place. He scooped her up, holding her sideways in his arms. She kept wiggling, and his chest was heaving with every shaky breath.

“You kicked this off,” he growled, voice low and edgy. Dominic hauled her up to the second floor, dropped her on the plush bed, and leaned in close, shrinking the space between them. The room got so steamy it couldn’t be contained—even the moon outside seemed to duck behind the clouds, like shy to watch.

“Mmm…” Brynn woke up groaning, her whole body sore and her head thumping like it might crack open. Gone way too hard last night, she thought, still half out of it. She must’ve…

Rubbing her temples, she sat up—and then stopped dead. Then, shockingly, she found herself in pajamas. Her body locked up. Then she heard a soft rustle next to her. She turned her head, stiff as a plank, and saw Dominic—shirtless, kicked back with a magazine. He caught her staring, glanced over, and gave her a lazy grin. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Ahh!” Brynn yelped, practically leaping out of her skin. She stared at him, words tumbling over each other, “W-Why are you in my bed?” And he wasn’t wearing anything. She knew this was bad, like really bad. Her freakout made Dominic laugh. He tossed the magazine aside and leaned in a bit, smirking.

“What are you doing?” Brynn squeaked, scooting back—though there wasn’t really anywhere to go.

“Do you know your own work?” He grinned, nodding at the red marks scattered across his chest. “So, what do you think went down?”

Brynn’s eyes locked on those flirty little scratches, and she froze. Slowly, bits of last night’s drunken blur started trickling back. “You’re my… my husband. My husband smells this nice…” She’d said that. “My husband’s lips? Super soft,” She’d giggled like a dork. “You’re mine now.” She’d straight-up claimed him, no shame. “Chocolate, yum.” She’d mumbled that while running her hands all over his abs. All of it—to Dominic. She couldn’t believe she’d pulled that. She was a total mess—a complete creep! Embarrassment slammed into her like a freight train.

“Ahhh!” Brynn screeched again, this time at herself. She dove under the blankets, yanking them over her head like a fortress. Nope. No chance. She wasn’t dealing with this right now. She couldn’t look at Dominic. The humiliation was choking her.