I lasted three hours after dinner before I gave in. The cream card lay on my desk like a temptation I couldn’t ignore. I told myself I was only going for a walk to clear my head. I told myself I wouldn’t actually go inside. But somehow, I found myself standing outside The Crimson Veil again, heart pounding, coat wrapped tightly around me.

The club felt different tonight. The red lighting seemed deeper. The music throbbed heavier in my blood. I didn’t have to search for him this time. Dominic was already watching me from the same shadowed corner, tall and motionless in all black. The moment our eyes met, my stomach flipped in both fear and relief. He didn’t smile. He simply watched me walk toward him, grey eyes tracking every step.

When I stopped in front of him, close enough to catch the faint scent of whiskey and smoke, my heart was hammering. Dominic didn’t speak at first. He simply studied me, noting my loose hair, the undone top button of my blouse, and the way my fingers twisted together nervously.

“You came back sooner than I expected,” he said, voice low.

“I shouldn’t be here,” I whispered.

“Yet you are.” He reached out and brushed his fingers along the edge of my open collar, grazing the sensitive skin just below my throat. The light touch sent a shiver racing down my spine. “And you obeyed me again. Good girl.”

Heat flooded my face. I hated how easily those two words affected me.

“Come.”

He guided me through the club with his hand resting at the small of my back. The private lounge welcomed us again with its warm amber lighting and heavy silence. The door clicked shut, sealing us inside. Dominic poured water for me first, then whiskey for himself. I drank obediently, but it did little to calm the storm inside me. He settled into his usual armchair and studied me for a long moment.

“On your knees.” The command was soft, but it pulled at something deep in my chest.

I hesitated longer this time, fists clenched at my sides. Part of me still wanted to resist. To prove I wasn’t completely under his spell. My knees locked. If I knelt again, it would mean something different this time. It wouldn’t be curiosity. It wouldn’t be an experiment. It would be a choice. My body moved anyway. I sank down onto the rug in front of him, heart racing, cheeks burning.

Dominic watched me with dark, unreadable eyes. He leaned forward slightly and ran his fingers through my hair, slow and deliberate, just like last time. The gentle pressure on my scalp made my eyes flutter. I bit my lip hard to stay quiet.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” he murmured. “Haven’t you?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

His hand moved lower, thumb brushing along the side of my neck, then tracing the open collar of my blouse. His thumb brushed lightly over my collarbone, sending little sparks across my skin. The touch was gentle, but it felt possessive. Every slow stroke made me more aware of how much I had missed this, missed him.

“You’re trembling again,” he observed quietly. “Still fighting yourself even while you kneel so prettily for me.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the black leather bracelet. He held it between his fingers, letting it dangle in front of me, just out of reach. The sight of it made my chest tighten with both fear and longing.

“You want it back,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

I stared at the bracelet, throat dry. I wanted to deny it. I wanted to stand up and leave. Instead, I stayed on my knees, eyes locked on the strip of leather that had come to mean far too much.

Dominic tilted his head slightly, watching me with dark satisfaction. His voice dropped lower, almost coaxing. “Say it, Jasmine. Tell me you want it.”

My hands trembled in my lap. Shame burned through me, but the yearning was stronger.

“I…” My voice cracked. I swallowed hard. “I want it back, please.”

A dark gleam of satisfaction flickered in his eyes. He didn’t give it to me immediately. Instead, he leaned forward and fastened it around my wrist himself, his fingers slow and deliberate, brushing over my racing pulse. The familiar weight of the leather settling against my skin felt like both surrender and relief.

Dominic cupped my jaw with one hand, tilting my face up so I had to meet his gaze. “Good girl,” he murmured.

He didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he continued touching me, slow strokes through my hair, his thumb tracing my jaw, the side of my neck, occasionally dipping to the open collar of my blouse. Every touch was measured. Never going too far, but enough to make my breathing unsteady and my body ache for more.

I closed my eyes for a moment, lost in the sensation. The constant noise in my head, the guilt, the fear, and the pressure grew quieter with every pass of his fingers.

“You’re beginning to understand what you need from me, aren’t you?” he said softly.

I opened my eyes and looked up at him. The truth sat heavy on my tongue.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Dominic’s eyes darkened with quiet triumph. He cupped my jaw with one hand, thumb slowly brushing across my lower lip.

“Next time,” he said, voice low and commanding, “you won’t make me wait so long. And you won’t make me ask twice.”

He kept me there on my knees for a long time, simply touching me, praising me in that quiet, devastating way, until I felt drunk on the relief and the growing need for him. When he finally helped me stand, my legs were shaky. He pulled me gently against his chest for a moment, letting me breathe him in.

“Go home, Jasmine,” he murmured against my hair. “And when you’re alone tonight, remember how quiet your mind becomes with me.”

As I stepped out into the cold night air, my fingers closed tightly around the bracelet on my wrist. For one terrible, honest moment, I couldn’t tell whether the tightness in my chest was guilt… or gratitude.