Another Encounter

Dominic walked toward the hallway, seeking to explore the house for a while. He held his chin, processing what Navier had told him when suddenly a strawberry-blonde-haired young man stood at the corner, folding his arms. Dominic recognized the figure before him; it was Delico, his nephew.

"Uncle Oliver told me about your fighting skills on the night of your capture. I want you to teach me how to use a sword," Delico stated, his eyes fixed on Dominic as he stopped in his tracks.

Dominic raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Real swords, you mean?" he said, smiling slightly at Delico while idly playing with his fingers.

Delico, taken aback by Dominic's tone, looked as if he were about to be killed. "Don't worry; it's not real swords. They're just wooden swords. I haven't touched a sword in a while," he said, clearing his throat nervously.

"Wooden swords?" Dominic thought, tilting his head at Delico's request. He remembered playing with wooden swords alongside Zard after school at home. "Perhaps this could be a good opportunity to build a little rapport with mother's family. It wouldn't hurt to have some fun. Since arriving in Eardoznia, I had barely enjoyed myself." He nodded and walked toward Delico.

"You've wielded a sword before?" Dominic asked, maintaining a neutral expression and tone. Delico noticed Dominic's bandaged arm, which was slung around his neck.

"Yes... I'm training at military school. I'm back home for a break, but I can't grasp how to use a sword properly." Delico sighed, gesturing toward Dominic's bandaged arm. "And I don't think it's a good time to use wooden swords. You need to heal before we do anything."

Dominic shook his head with a charming grin. "It's no problem. Just because I'm injured doesn't stop me from fighting and stretching out a little," he replied, tilting his neck and head until it cracked. He walked past Delico, adding, "Let's go... I'm bored."

Delico, surprised by Dominic's unbothered reaction, felt a mix of admiration and fear. "He didn't flinch or reject the offer. What kind of person is he? It's quite terrifying," he thought as he watched Dominic stride ahead. "I'll take you there," he said, following closely behind.

Delico led Dominic to a small training room. Dominic scanned the area, his eyes lingering on the weapons and guns displayed along the walls.

This reminds me of Father's training room when I first learned to fight, he thought, spotting Delico standing beside a training dummy, holding two wooden swords.

"Let's start..." Dominic said, walking toward him. He stretched out his left hand, and Delico handed him one of the wooden swords. Dominic spun it expertly in his grip, swinging it to the side as if he were preparing for battle. He gave Delico a nod, gesturing for him to attack.

"Don't go easy on me," Delico warned, gripping his sword tightly before charging forward with a determined yell. He swung, aiming to strike Dominic, but with a single hand, Dominic effortlessly parried the attack. Delico gritted his teeth, pushing harder to break through Dominic's defense, but to no avail.

Dominic chuckled softly, amused by Delico's enthusiasm. With a swift spin of his sword, he disarmed Delico, sending the wooden sword flying from his grip. Delico stumbled backward, nearly losing his balance, panting as he bent over with his hands on his knees.

"How does he do that with one hand? He's injured… is it because he's a Brusward?"Delico wondered, sweat beading on his forehead, a mixture of fear and awe creeping in.

"When you fight, don't let your emotions control you," Dominic said, his voice calm but firm. "An enemy can exploit that. You have to master your feelings, or you'll give them an advantage." He gestured for Delico to pick up his sword. "Again."

Delico grabbed his sword and charged once more, lunging at Dominic. This time, Dominic scoffed lightly, a smile tugging at his lips. He parried the attack with a flick of his wrist, their swords clashing in the air. Delico tried to press on, but Dominic's movements were too sharp, too quick.

Before Delico realized what was happening, Dominic struck him in the stomach with his elbow, so fast it was like a flash. Delico gasped, his focus broken, and Dominic swiftly knocked his sword away. But this time, Delico managed to hold onto it and slashed at Dominic in desperation. Dominic sidestepped the attack with ease, dodging gracefully.

"The most important skill for a swordsman is finding your opponent's weak spots," Dominic advised, his voice steady as he spun his sword effortlessly. "But don't make it obvious that you've spotted them, or you'll expose yourself. Always be two steps ahead."

In one fluid motion, Dominic swept his wooden sword behind Delico's knees, causing him to collapse to the ground with a groan. Delico felt a sharp pain in his stomach, and he clutched at it, bewildered.

"When did he hit me?" Delico thought, panting, his eyes wide with fear and confusion as he stared up at Dominic.

Dominic stood over him, his expression neutral but his presence overwhelming. "Always keep your mind focused, Delico. A good fighter doesn't just rely on strength—they use their mind. And right now, you're letting yours betray you."

Dominic approached Delico, holding his wooden sword behind him, the blade pointing upwards as if he were wielding a katana. His stance was calm and composed, showing no signs of strain.

"Are you sure you can keep going?" Dominic asked, his tone light but with an underlying seriousness.

Delico, undeterred, pointed his sword at Dominic, poised as if ready to thrust. In a flash, Dominic dodged, executing a graceful somersault that landed him effortlessly on his feet, his movements fluid like an athlete in his prime.

Delico lunged at him again, determined to break through. "I think I'm starting to get the hang of it, but Dominic... he's too skilled", Delico thought as he pressed on. "His father must have trained him well. But how can he fight so effortlessly with one hand?"

Their swords clashed once more, the sound of wood striking wood filling the room. Dominic easily parried Delico's strikes, blocking each attack with precision. Delico's frustration mounted, and he decided to change tactics. In a bold move, he kicked Dominic in the knee.

Dominic felt the impact but didn't react; instead, he feigned pain, stumbling slightly. Delico's eyes lit up, mistaking the moment as a victory. He grinned, seeing Dominic apparently down.

But Dominic, ever calculating, allowed the ruse to play out. Straightening up, he smiled. "Good instincts," he said, dusting himself off. "But never assume your opponent is down until you're sure."

Delico blinked, realizing he had fallen for Dominic's trick. He tightened his grip on his sword, feeling the heat of the sparring session. Dominic noticed the determination in his nephew's eyes and decided to offer some more practical advice.

"When you're in a fight, especially against someone more experienced, it's not about being aggressive. It's about reading your opponent. Watch how they move, how they react. Sometimes, it's less about strength and more about patience." Dominic stepped back into position, his posture more relaxed this time.

"Now, come at me again, but this time... take your time. Feel the rhythm of the fight. Don't rush."

Delico, now more cautious, circled around Dominic, testing his footing before making his next move. He lunged forward, but this time more controlled, his movements deliberate. Dominic met his sword with a block but didn't strike back immediately. He let Delico push, allowing him to experience the ebb and flow of a real fight.

"See?" Dominic said, gently pushing Delico back. "It's not always about overpowering your opponent. You need to outthink them."

Delico panted, stepping back to assess his next move. The sparring had shifted. It was no longer a demonstration of Dominic's overwhelming skill, but more of a lesson in strategy and control.

Dominic smiled, his gaze softening. "You've got potential, Delico. But remember, a sword is just a tool. The real weapon is your mind."

"I can't use my full strength on him," Dominic thought to himself, fully aware of the danger his assassin's training posed. "This is just a mere training session. If it were a real fight, he'd be dead in seconds. There'd be no need to drag it out."

Dominic stood with his back to Delico, calm and composed. Delico, determined to land a hit, charged at him with the sword raised. Without even turning around, Dominic swiftly struck the sword out of Delico's hand with a single, precise movement. The force of the blow left a small scratch on Delico's cheek, and the boy gasped in shock, stumbling backward and falling onto the ground.

Dominic finally turned, looking down at his nephew as he pointed his wooden sword at him. "You did well," he said, his voice steady, "but there are still flaws in your technique." He removed the sword from Delico's reach and set it beside the training dummy, extending a hand to help him up.

Delico, still catching his breath, hesitated but took Dominic's hand. "Could we... spar again next time?" he asked, his voice a mix of eagerness and exhaustion.

Dominic gave a small nod, his expression softening slightly. "We could," he replied, "but only when you've mastered the art of swordsmanship. Until then, there's more to learn than just swinging a blade."

With that, Dominic turned and quietly shut the doors behind him as he left the training room.

Delico, still feeling the sting of the spar, collapsed onto his knees, clutching his stomach. "He looks weak, but he's terrifying," he thought, wincing at the pain coursing through him. Even in practice, Dominic had shown a fraction of his skill—enough to make Delico realize how far he still had to go.

While Danae was in Dominic's bedroom, she rifled through his papers, documents, and personal belongings, her curiosity getting the better of her. Among the clutter, she noticed a real estate business bulletin laid out on his study table. Raising an eyebrow, she muttered under her breath, "He's a businessman? Interesting..."

As she continued inspecting his things, her eyes landed on a half-written letter tucked beneath some papers. Intrigued, she reached for it, eager to learn more about what Dominic might be involved in. But just as her fingers brushed the edge of the letter, she froze. Dominic's voice echoed through the hallway, his calm, authoritative tone unmistakable as he spoke with someone just outside the door.

Heart racing, Danae quickly gathered the scattered papers, shoving them back into place with shaky hands. She glanced toward the door, her pulse quickening with every passing second. In a panic, she hurriedly removed her outer clothes, leaving only her delicate underwear gown, and threw herself onto the bed, feigning an air of nonchalance.

The door handle twisted, and Danae held her breath, hoping Dominic wouldn't notice anything amiss as he entered.

Dominic entered his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him with his one good hand. He sat down on the chair, exhausted, but quickly sensed someone else's presence in the room. His sharp eyes scanned the space before landing on a figure—a blonde, busty woman lounging on his bed in nothing but a thin, revealing inner gown. She stared at him, her eyes gleaming with a strange intensity. His gaze hardened instantly.

"Who are you, and what are you doing in my bedroom?" Dominic asked coldly, his tone devoid of warmth as he glared at her.

The woman giggled, clearly unbothered by his hostility. Slowly, she stepped down from the bed and sauntered toward him. Her eyes were locked onto him with an unsettling obsession, her lips curving into a flirtatious smile. Leaning in closer while he remained seated, she reached out to touch him, but Dominic instantly pushed her back and stood up, towering over her.

"Get out of my room," he commanded, his voice even colder now. "Or I won't be nice."

Unfazed, the woman smirked and took a step toward him again. "Oh, I'm sorry for not introducing myself properly," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "I'm Danae Laret, sister-in-law to the Capulets." She circled around him, letting her fingers graze his shoulder and chest from behind as if testing his boundaries. Her touch lingered far too long, and she whispered in his ear with a teasing smile, caressing the bandaged arm still in its sling. "How about we get to know each other, hmm? You can't reject a beauty like me... even in bed."

Her fingers trailed down his body with increasing boldness, but Dominic's face remained impassive, the discomfort clear in his stiff posture. Before her hand could wander any further, he swiftly grabbed her wrist and yanked it away from him, his patience wearing thin.

"Don't touch me," Dominic growled softly, his voice low and dangerous, his grey eyes with icy gaze piercing through her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. Danae, for a moment hesitated- her playful demeanor faltering although her obsession with him seemed to deepen

"We have nothing to talk about, and I'm not interested in you or getting to know you," Dominic said, his voice cold and firm. "Put your clothes on. I don't know you, either." He turned away from her, scanning the room for her dress. Finding it draped across a chair, he picked it up and handed it to her. His gesture toward the door with his bandaged arm was clear: leave.

Danae walked toward the door, pretending to comply, but in a sudden burst of movement, she shoved Dominic hard enough to make him stumble. Before he could react, she pushed herself against him. Furious, Dominic stood and swiftly pinned her against the wall, holding her wrists tightly. Her defiant eyes met his, a sneer twisting her lips. The strap of her gown slipped off her shoulder, revealing her breasts. She seized the moment, grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer, both of them breathing heavily from the confrontation.

"I want you," she whispered with unnerving sincerity, her hand sliding down his chest and past his torso, stopping at his groin. She caressed him through the fabric of his pants to grab his manhood, her fingers lingering with intent. "There's no man who can resist me... I know you'll like me. I love you," she purred, her fingers dangerously close to unzipping his trousers.

For a moment, Dominic was caught off guard by her brazen honesty. He tightened his grip on her wrists, his body tense, though his expression remained guarded. "But we just met, and I barely know you. Unfortunately for you, I'm not interested in a relationship right now," he replied, though Danae's unwavering gaze, her heartbeat quickening, filled the room with a palpable tension.

As she stared into his eyes, Dominic forced himself to look away with his face slightly red, gulping hard. His thoughts betrayed him, drifting to Evangeline. Danae's blonde hair reminded him painfully of his wife—her softness, her warmth. He imagined Evangeline standing before him, her golden locks tumbling down, her lips brushing against his, her touch gentle yet commanding . The vision of Evangeline wanting him, taking him, made his pulse quicken, the temptation almost unbearable.

Dominic's mind drifted against his will as Danae touched him seductively, imagining Evangeline in Danae's place. He could see her standing before him, her delicate hands slowly undressing herself, letting her clothes fall away to reveal the soft curves of her body. His pulse quickened as he envisioned her coming closer, her lips brushing against his, her kisses igniting something deep within him. He could almost feel the heat of her breath, her hands moving over his chest, down his torso, claiming him in ways that made him weak.

In his imagination, she wasn't timid—Evangeline took control, guiding him as she stripped him of his defenses, both physically and emotionally. Dominic, usually so composed and in control, felt himself surrendering entirely. He was more than ready to give in, to let her take dominance over him, to be completely vulnerable in her presence. The thought of her leading the moment—her confidence, her desire—left him breathless, the idea of relinquishing power to her thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

But this wasn't Evangeline. The woman before him wasn't his wife she's just another crazy woman, and no matter how beautiful Danae was, she wasn't the one he desired. She wasn't the woman he longed to make his. No, his heart and mind were consumed with thoughts of Evangeline, the one woman who had his soul. She was far more captivating than anyone else, and despite the moment's intensity, his resolve remained strong.

Dominic blinked, forcing himself back to reality. This wasn't his wife The woman before him was not the one who held his heart. Though Danae may have tried to seduce him, it was Evangeline who consumed his thoughts—his true desire, his one and only. No one could ever compare to her.

With a sharp exhale, Dominic breathed heavily "You need to leave now!"

Dominic was visibly uncomfortable as Danae's hand wandered down to his groin, her touch lingering on his manhood through the fabric of his trousers. His jaw tightened, fists clenching in restrained anger, the reflection of his wedding ring gleaming in the dim light—a reminder of his loyalty and the boundary that Danae was about to cross. His breathing grew heavier as she moved closer, sniffing his neck, taking in the scent of him, her fingers twisting a lock of his long hair between them, marveling at its silkiness.

"The princess deserves her prince charming," she murmured, her voice sultry, as if she were reciting lines from a fairytale. "Someone like you—just like in the storybooks." Her gown's thin strap slipped off her shoulder, exposing her ample chest, but Dominic's gaze remained cold.

"You're insane..." he muttered, disgust lacing his voice. "Don't be delusional. Keep them to yourself."

Danae, ignoring his harsh words, continued her advances, guiding his hand to her thigh, slowly lifting her dress. Dominic averted his gaze, his mind racing, trying to keep control as she unzipped his pants with a slow, deliberate motion. The sound of the zipper pierced through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality. She was crossing a line he could not allow.

Without hesitation, Dominic's instincts kicked in, and he grabbed Danae by the neck, his grip tightening just enough to make her gasp for air. Her hand immediately withdrew from his groin, eyes wide in shock.

"My apologies for being too cruel," Dominic said, his voice calm but laced with a lethal coldness. His icy gaze met hers, and Danae trembled under the weight of his intensity. "But when I saw you, you reminded me of her... the way you are right now." His grip tightened slightly, just enough to make his point clear, before he pushed her away, releasing her neck. Danae stumbled, falling to the floor with a thud as several items from the nearby table crashed to the ground, the sound echoing through the room.

She gasped, clutching her throat, staring up at Dominic in a mix of fear and confusion. His calm composure never faltered, but his words stung more than any physical blow.

"The thought of her—becoming like you, presenting herself before me this way..." He paused, his voice barely a whisper now, yet more terrifying in its quietness. "Her hair, your slight resemblance... It stirred things in my mind. But I can't do anything with you. I apologize for the inconvenience, ma'am."

Danae's eyes widened in shock. She had heard no mention of this woman before. Who was she? And why did her mere resemblance evoke such a strong reaction from Dominic? He had rejected her—her beauty, her body—and for someone else. The realization hit her hard, and for the first time, Danae felt a wave of something foreign—humiliation and confusion mingled with her lust. She had thought no man could resist her, but Dominic's cold rejection shattered that belief.

As she lay on the floor, gasping for breath, Danae couldn't stop her mind from racing. "Who was this woman And why did she have such a hold over Dominic?"

Dominic gulped, his Adam's apple shifting visibly as he adjusted his pants, his thoughts wandering to Evangeline. He zipped his trousers, trying to focus on the present, but her image lingered in his mind.

"Her? Who's her? Are you with someone else? Who is she?" Danae demanded, her voice thick with jealousy as she glared at him, watching his every move. She stared at him with a desperate intensity, trying to read his expression, but his face remained as cold and unreadable as ever.

"It's none of your business," Dominic replied flatly, his voice like ice. "It won't benefit either of us to do anything intimate." He turned his back to her, his hand gripping the door knob. He didn't flinch at the rage burning in her eyes or the venom in her voice. To him, her emotions were irrelevant.

Danae's frustration boiled over, and she slammed her hand on the floor, her voice rising with desperation. "Is it Lady Clarisse?! She never mentioned being involved with anyone! Or is it Lady Camille?" she practically spat, still on the floor, her face twisted in jealousy and anger.

Dominic sighed internally, growing tired of her baseless accusations. "You're too naive, Danae," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. He kept his irritation hidden behind his cold demeanor, though he couldn't help but feel disbelief at her assumption that he could ever have a relationship with his own nieces.

His mind drifted briefly to Evangeline's words from that day in the office. He had been there to ask her to sign off on the traditions of the honorary committee for her family's hotel, but instead, they had spoken of deeper things—about duty and tradition with a lot of arguments. Her wisdom and grace stood in stark contrast to Danae's desperate advances. Evangeline had become the only woman who could stir his emotions, though he rarely allowed them to surface.

He recalled her soft voice as she carefully looked over the documents, the way she had issues with him and nagged . Her presence was calming to him, and despite the formality of their interaction, Evangeline… He had never imagined someone could captivate him so completely.

"Whoever she is, she's not worth your time!" Danae snapped, pulling him from his thoughts.

Dominic turned back to face her, his gaze colder than ever. "You're mistaken," he replied, his voice sharp. "You'll never understand." Without another word, he opened the door, leaving Danae on the floor, drowning in her jealousy and confusion. As he stepped out, his thoughts returned to Evangeline, the only woman who had ever truly mattered.

Dominic's mind drifted back to Evangeline's words, a memory sharp enough to cut through the tense air of his room.

"Of course, the likes of you wouldn't understand because you weren't born into my family," Evangeline had said, her voice tinged with sarcasm as she placed a hand on her head, chuckling with a dark amusement. "Wait a second, what am I saying? That's incest. I wouldn't marry someone of the same blood—that's an abomination…"

The memory snapped back into the present, and Dominic hid the small, amused smile that threatened to break his cold demeanor. Danae's desperate assumptions about Clarisse or Camille—his own nieces—were laughable at best and revolting at worst. His thoughts of Evangeline grounded him, reminding him of the depth and sincerity he craved, not this shallow encounter.

Turning back to the door, his expression hardened once more. "Put your clothes on," Dominic said flatly, his voice firm but controlled. "I can't stand seeing the nakedness of another woman. I've seen enough, and I have no intentions of intimacy… not with you. Leave this instant."

He refused to meet her gaze, barely sparing a glance at her half-naked figure. Instead, he focused on the grain of the wooden door, sighing inwardly, overwhelmed by the absurdity of the situation. It reminded him, in a twisted way, of the awkwardness with his piano tutor back in his home, moments he now wished to forget. "But now, I'm married," he reminded himself. "I can't go back to those fleeting temptations."

Danae, clearly stung by his rejection, stomped her foot in frustration. She hastily gathered her clothes, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger. "I won't forgive you…" she muttered, her voice shaky with a mixture of sobs and fury. She stormed out of the room, her shoes clutched in her hands.

The door slammed shut behind her, and Dominic immediately reached for the bottle of alcohol on the table. He opened a nearby cupboard, retrieving an empty glass, and poured himself a generous amount. With one swift motion, he downed the drink in a single gulp, the burn in his throat matching the heavy breath he exhaled.

The encounter with Danae was repugnant, and the drink was the only thing that seemed to dull the irritation lingering in his chest. But no amount of alcohol could erase the clear image of Evangeline from his mind—the woman who had captured his heart, far removed from the chaos Danae had just dragged him into.

"Eardoznian women are crazy… That was close," Dominic muttered under his breath, slamming the empty glass down beside the bottle of alcohol. The tension in his body hadn't fully dissipated as he walked away from the table. His mind wandered, pulling him further from the unsettling encounter.

"I can't stay here any longer," he whispered to himself, pacing the room. "I'll write a letter to Verdaselles, then head for a check-up with Oliver. The stab I got wasn't that serious, I should be fine by morning." He flexed his bandaged arm slightly, wincing at the sharp pain still lingering. The last thing he wanted was for Evangeline to see him in such a vulnerable state— her gaze, he couldn't bear it right now. And Edward too... He knew he couldn't afford to show any weakness around him and his wife. His thoughts turned to the letter from Charles. "The court meeting is tomorrow," he reminded himself, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

As he approached his study table, something felt off. Papers weren't in their usual neat order. His eyes narrowed, irritation bubbling up again. "Danae must've gone through my things," he thought darkly. With a sharp exhale, he straightened the documents, his fingers brushing over the letter he had been working on earlier. He picked it up, determined to finish it before delivering it back to Verdaselles.

"I wonder where Caleb is now..." he muttered absentmindedly, as he sat down at the table, picking up the calligraphy pen with his left hand. Writing with his left hand was slower, but his determination was unwavering.

As he dipped the pen into ink and resumed his letter, a wave of homesickness washed over him. His heart ached for the familiar—home. The warmth of Verdaselles, its blossoming gardens, the soft scent of lavender that always reminded him of simpler days before this mess. There, away from prying eyes and hidden agendas, he could let his guard down, if only for a little while.

But that life felt distant now. Too distant.

Caleb stood in the garden, the wind gently playing with the strands of his hair and that of the silver-haired girl beside him—Camille Capulet, Clarisse's twin sister and the very person Danae had mentioned to Dominic. Camille's white gown fluttered softly in the breeze, and her hand was clasped tenderly in Caleb's. There was a quiet understanding between them, a bond of love that needed no words.

Camille gazed into Caleb's eyes with a passionate intensity, the kind that made time seem irrelevant. Caleb smiled warmly, drawing her closer, his lips inching toward hers for a kiss. But just before their lips could meet, the sound of sobbing cut through the air, breaking the intimate moment. Startled, they turned their heads toward the source of the noise, spotting Danae storming through the backyard, muttering to herself.

"I won't forgive you, Dominic! Hmmph!" Danae huffed angrily, wiping her tears as she disappeared into the distance, leaving a tense silence behind her.

Camille glanced at Caleb, sensing the trouble in Danae's voice, and shook her head softly. "Something's not right with her," she whispered, her gaze trailing after Danae for a moment before she looked back at Caleb.

"My lord is in trouble again… with women. Ayah…" Caleb thought to himself, letting out a weary sigh. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly distressed by yet another complication. Turning to Camille, he gently kissed her forehead, his hand caressing her silky hair as he spoke.

"Camille, my apologies, but I must attend to my lord now." Caleb reluctantly released her gloved hands, preparing to leave. But before he could fully pull away, Camille reached out and gently cupped his face, pulling him into a soft kiss. Her lips brushed against his for just a moment, and then, with a smile, she rubbed her thumb over his lips, leaving him with a sense of calm.

"You can go," she said softly. "I'll speak to Danae. She seems troubled." With a graceful bow of her head, Camille turned and headed toward the direction Danae had gone, her gown sweeping across the grass as she walked.

Caleb watched her retreat, a mix of admiration and concern in his eyes. He sighed again, knowing that his peaceful moment with Camille had come to an abrupt end. Straightening his posture, he gathered himself and made his way toward the building, ready to meet Dominic in his bedroom and face whatever new situation awaited him.