Chapter 5: Alessandra

INSTEAD OF GOING TO ONE OF MY FRIENDS' HOUSES,Ichecked into a hotel

and paid for the week with cash. I didn't want Dominic tracing my

whereabouts via my credit card. Luckily, I had my own money from Floria

Designs and the foresight to stash an emergency bundle at home when the

business took off. It was enough to cover the hotel and hold me over while I

figured out what to do.

Was leaving without a word the coward's way out? Probably. But I

needed time alone to think, which was why I didn't update my friends

immediately either.

I'd turned my phone off after leaving the penthouse, and I left it off

while I unpacked, showered, and tried not to think about the past few hours

or the sharp ache in my chest.

"Dom!" I laughed when Dominic stepped into the shower and wrapped

his armsaround my waist from behind. "You're supposed to be ordering

room service."

"I did order room service." His mouth trailed over my shoulder and up

my neck. Despite the steam clouding the bathroom, goose bumps of

pleasure pebbled my skin. "But I decided I want dessert first."

"What if I don't agree?" I teased. "Maybe I want to follow thenormal

order of things. Not all of us can be rule breakers."

"In that case…" Dominic's mouth reached the corner of my lips. One

hand palmed my breast while the other dipped leisurely between my legs.

Pleasure spiraled in my stomach, and I couldn't hold back a soft sigh. "I'll

just have to find a way to convince you, won't I?"

I closedmy eyes, letting the hot water wash away my tears. We were

miles and years away from ourfirst weekend getaway as a couple, but I

could almost feel the phantom strength of his embrace. We'd had sex twice

in the shower; by the time we came out, our room service meal had been

cold, but we hadn't even cared. We'd devoured the food like it'd been

freshly made.

I stayed in the shower longer than I should've, but the water, heat, and

emotions of the night conspiredto pull me under. The moment my head hit

the pillow, I was out.

When I woke up the next morning and finally turned on my phone, I

had dozens of missed texts, calls, and voicemails from my friends and

Dominic. He must've reached out to them after he came home and found

me missing.

I sent a quick message to the group chat assuring my friends I was okay

and that I would tell them everything later before taking a deepbreath and

opening Dominic's voicemails.

My heart instantly squeezed at the sound of his voice, which grew

increasingly panicked with each message.

Dominic: Where are you?

Dominic: Ále, this isn't funny.

Dominic:I'm sorryI missed our flight. A work emergency came up and I had to

deal with it. We can still make the rest of the trip.

Dominic:Dammit, Alessandra. I understand ifyou're mad, but at least let me

know you're okay. I don't—fuck.

A string of curses blended with the unmistakable patter of rain against

concrete in the background. The message's timestamp read 3:29 a.m. What

the hell was he doing out so late?

Looking for you.

I squashed the thought as quickly as it popped up, partly because I

didn't believe the new Dominic would do something like that and partly

because it hurt too much to think he would.

His last message was two hours ago at 6:23 a.m.

Dominic: Call me back. Please.

The squeeze in my chest became unbearable. I wasn't ready to face him,

but sleephad cleared last night's emotional fog, and the desperation in his

voice eroded my earlier vow to avoid him until I had a plan. It was better to

see him and rip the Band-Aid off, so to speak, than let the uncertainty fester.

"Violet Hotel." I didn't give hima chance to speak when he picked up.

"Lower East Side."

I ended the call,my stomach a mess of nerves. I hadn't eaten dinner last

night, but the thought of food made my stomach revolt further.

Nevertheless, I forced down some trail mix from the minibar. I'd need the

energy. If there was one thing Dominic was good at, it was persuading

people to do what he wanted.

I was already second-guessing my choices. In the bright light of day, my

ring finger felt impossibly bare and my decision to leave seemed impossibly

rash. Should I have waited and talked to Dominic before walking out? What

if—

Someone knocked at the door.

My stomach pitched again. I suddenly regretted telling him where I was,

but it was too late.

It's like pulling off a Band-Aid. Just get it over with.

Still, noamountof internal pep talk could've prepared me for the sight

awaiting me when I opened the door.

"Oh my God." A gasp escaped before I could hold it in.

Dominic looked like hell. Disheveled hair, rumpled shirt, purple

smudges of exhaustion beneath his eyes. His clothes were plastered to his

body, and his usually pristine shoes looked like they'd gone through a

Tough Mudder obstacle course.

"What— " I didn't get a chance to finish my question before he grabbed

my arms and swept his eyes over me.

"You're okay." Relief softened the rough edge of voice. He sounded like

he was either recovering from a horrible cold or he'd been shouting all

night.

"I'm fine." Physically. "Why are you all wet?"

He was dripping water all over the floor. Nevertheless, I pulled him

inside and shut the door behind us. It was a low-key hotel, but I didn't want

to risk people seeing or overhearing us. Manhattan was a small island, and

Manhattan society was smaller still.

"I got caught in the rain." Dominic's eyes swept over the room and

stopped on my open suitcase. "And it's hard to see puddles at four in the

morning."

"Why the hell were you wandering around Manhattan at four in the

morning?"

His disbelieving eyes snapped back to mine. "I come home from work

to find my wife gone and her wedding ring in our damn housekeeper's

pocket. She's not answering my calls, and none of her friends know where

she is. I thought you— " He took a deep breath and released it in one long,

controlled exhale. "I went to your usual places until I realized they were all,

of course, closed that late at night. So I had my security team sweeping the

city while I checked your favorite neighborhoods. Just in case. I didn't

know…"

My breath stuck at the mental image of Dominic wandering the streets

in the rain looking for me. It was so incongruous with the cold, disinterested

man I'd become used to that it almost sounded like he was spinning a fairy

tale instead of telling the truth.

But the evidence was there, and it sent a fresh, crippling wave of pain

through my chest.

If only he cared that much all the time. If only it didn't take me leaving

to unbury a piece of the person I'd fallen in love with.

"When did you get home?" I asked quietly.

Dull red tinged his cheekbones. "Eight thirty."

Two anda half hours after our scheduled departure time. I wondered

whether he'd forgotten about our anniversary or whether he remembered

but ignored it anyway. I couldn't decide which was worse, but it didn't

matter. The end result was the same.

"I didn't mean to miss the flight," Dominic said. "There was a work

emergency. Ask Caroline. The SEC "

"That's the thing." My earlier concern melted away, replaced with a

familiar exhaustion. Not the type that followed a sleepless night, but the

type built over years of hearing the same excuse. "There's alwaysa work

emergency. If it's not the SEC, it's the stock market. If it's not the stock

market, it's some corporate scandal. No matter what it is, it always comes

first. Before me. Before us."

Dominic's jaw tightened. "I can't ignore those things," he said. "People

depend on me. Billionsof dollars ride on my decisions. My employees and

investors— "

"What about me? Do I not count as people?"

"Of course you do." He sounded baffled.

"And when I was depending on you to show up like you promised?"

Emotion clogged my throat. "Was that less important than a multibillion

dollar corporation that'll probably be just fine if you took oneweekend

off?"

Tense silence mushroomed and nearly choked us until he spoke again.

"Do youremember our senior year of college?" Dominic's gaze burned

into mine. "We barely saw each other outside of school because I had to

work three jobs just to cover basic living expenses. We ate fucking instant

ramen on our dates because Icouldn't afford to take you out to nice

restaurants. It was miserable, and I promised myself that if I ever made it

out, I would never be in that situation again. Wewouldn't be in that

situation again. And we haven't."

He gestured between us. "Lookat us. We have everything we've ever

dreamed of, but the only way to keepitis to do my job. The penthouse, the

clothes, the jewelry. All of it goes away if "

"What good is any of that if I never seeyou?" My frustration bubbled

over to its tipping point. "I don't careabout the fancy penthouse or clothes

or jet. I would rather have a husband. A real one, not one just in name."

Maybe Ididn't understand because I came from a well-off family and

therefore could never fully empathize with the obstacles Dominic had to

overcome to get to where he was. Maybe I was too out of the loop to

understand the stakes of the Wall Street game. But I knew myself, and I

knew that I'd been a thousand times happier eating ramen withhim in his

dorm room thanI'd ever been attending some fancy gala draped in jewels

and a fake smile.

Dominic's eyesdarkened. "It's not that simple. I don't have a rich

family to fall back on if things go to shit, Ále," he said harshly. "Everything

is on me."

"Maybe, but you're Dominic Davenport. You're a billionaire! You can

afford a weekend off. Hell, you could retire this minute and still have

enough money to live in luxury for the rest of your life!"

He didn't get it. I could tell by the stubborn look in his eyes.

The fight bled out of me, and my exhaustion returned tenfold. My voice

dropped to a whisper. "It was our ten-year anniversary."

Dominic's throat flexed with a hard swallow. "We can leave now," he

said. "We have almost two full days left. We can still celebrate our

anniversary like we'd intended."

No matter how much I tried to explain, he didn't get whyI was upset. It

wasn't about physical, tangible things like flights and dinner reservations. It

was about a fundamental disconnect in our values and what we deemed

important for a good relationship. I believed in quality time and

conversation; he believed money could fix everything.

He'd always been ambitious, but I used to think he would hit a point

when he'd be content with what he had. I realized now that point didn't

exist. He would never have enough. The more he acquired money, status,

power—the more he wanted at the expense of everything else.

I shook my head slowly. "No."

I hadn't known what my plan was when I woke up that morning, but it

was now crystal clear.

Even if it killed me, even if the easiest thing was to fall into his arms

and sink into the memory of what we used to be, I had to go through with it.

I was already a shell of myself. If I didn't get out while I could, I'd dissolve

into dust, nothing more than a collection of lost time and unrealized dreams.

The stubborn gleam in Dominic's eyes faded, replaced with confusion.

"Then come home with me. We'll talk it out."

I shook my head again, trying to breathe through the needles stabbing at

my heart. "I'm not coming back."

He stilled. Confusion melted into realization, then disbelief. "Ále— "

"I want a divorce."