The Crimson Veil looked different the second time.

Not because the club had changed. It was the same low red lighting, the same heavy pulse of music beneath hushed voices and leather. But because I had changed. Last time I had been dragged here by curiosity and Sophia’s enthusiasm. Tonight, I had come alone. Willingly.

My hands trembled as I handed my coat to the attendant at the entrance. The deep burgundy blouse felt suddenly too thin, the black skirt too revealing. I kept my left sleeve tugged down over the leather bracelet, as if hiding it from myself more than anyone else.

You can still leave. No one is forcing you.

But my feet carried me forward.

The crowd felt thicker tonight, or maybe it was just my nerves. I scanned the room slowly, heart hammering against my ribs. Part of me hoped he wouldn’t be here. Another, much louder part, feared he wouldn’t.

I didn’t have to search long. He was already watching me.

Dominic stood near the same shadowed corner as before, tall and motionless in a perfectly tailored black shirt, the top two buttons undone. The moment our eyes met, the noise of the club receded. That same unnerving focus locked onto me, calm, patient, and utterly certain. As if he had been waiting exactly like this since the moment I left.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t gesture. He simply watched me approach, grey eyes dropping briefly to my wrist before rising again. I stopped in front of him, close enough to catch the faint scent of whiskey and smoke that already felt dangerously familiar.

“I came back,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the music.

Dominic’s gaze darkened with quiet satisfaction.

“I see that.” His voice was low, that faint Russian accent curling around the words. “And you’re wearing it.”

He took my left wrist gently but firmly, pushing the sleeve up with deliberate care. His fingers traced the black leather bracelet, then pressed lightly over my racing pulse.

“Good girl.”

The praise hit me like warm honey, sliding straight down my spine. My knees felt unsteady. I hated how easily those two words affected me.

“Come.”

It wasn’t a request. His hand settled at the small of my back as he guided me through the club, the crowd parting for him the same way it had before. We returned to the same private lounge. The heavy door clicked shut, sealing us in warm amber light and silence. I stood awkwardly in the center of the room while he poured water for me and whiskey for himself. He handed me the glass first.

“Drink,” he said softly.

I obeyed without thinking. The cold water helped, but only a little.

Dominic sat in the same leather armchair as last time, legs spread, completely at ease. He studied me for a long moment.

“I looked you up.” The confession slipped out of me.

Dominic’s expression didn’t change. He took a slow sip of his whiskey, then tilted his head slightly.

“Did you?” His voice was calm, almost amused. “And you still came back.”

The way he said it made it sound like something remarkable. Like I had passed a test I didn’t know I was taking. Like I had chosen him despite everything.

“I shouldn’t have,” I said quietly, fingers tightening around the glass. “Everything I read… it was terrifying. I told myself I wouldn’t come. I took the bracelet off more than once.”

“And yet here you are.” He set his glass down and rose from the chair, moving toward me with unhurried steps. “No one dragged you here tonight, Jasmine. No one forced you to put that bracelet back on. You chose this. You chose to walk through those doors. You chose to come to me.”

He stopped close enough that I had to tilt my head up to meet his eyes. His hand lifted, fingers gently cupping my jaw.

“That matters to me,” he said softly. “That you came back on your own. That you want this… even when you’re afraid.”

His thumb brushed slowly across my cheek. The touch was gentle, almost tender, and it made my resolve crumble.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted, voice shaking. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about how it felt when you told me to let go. I’m so tired of carrying everything alone.”

Dominic’s eyes darkened. He leaned in closer, lips near my ear.

“Then stop carrying it tonight,” he whispered. “Give it to me. Just for a little while. Let me take care of you the way you need.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me again, his expression patient but commanding. My eyes stung with sudden, embarrassing tears. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed someone to say that. Dominic waited. Patient. Unmoving. I closed my eyes for a second, then nodded. A faint, dangerous smile touched the corner of his mouth.

He leaned down, lips brushing my ear. “Take off the bracelet, Jasmine. And hand it to me.”

My fingers trembled as I unfastened the leather. When I placed it in his open palm, he closed his hand around it slowly, deliberately, like he was accepting something far more significant than a simple bracelet. He slipped it into his pocket, then took both of my wrists in his hands, thumbs pressing over my pulse points.

“On your knees.”

The command was soft, but it hit me like gravity. My breath caught. My body moved before my mind could catch up. I sank down onto the thick rug, heart thundering, cheeks burning with shame and something far more dangerous.

“Look at me.”

I lifted my gaze. Dominic looked down at me, grey eyes dark with approval and possession.

“You chose this,” he said, his voice low and velvet rough. “Remember that.”

In the heavy silence that followed, the constant noise in my head, the fear, the guilt, the pressure, finally went quiet.

And for the first time in longer than I could remember…

I felt relief.