Chapter 9 Just What I Needed

When Dominique arrived, he offered to take me to his place. He rarely invited anyone over, so I wasn't sure what to expect. The car was too quiet. Dominique hadn't said a word since we left, and something in the air felt off. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes fixed ahead. I sat beside him, clutching my phone in my lap, trying to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

We talked briefly about the strange gift. I suggested it might be from someone involved in the scandal, maybe a critic. He agreed, saying my theory made sense, but still insisted I needed to be careful; it was dangerous.

I wasn't sure where we were going.

"Where are we going?" I asked after a long silence.

"My place, at least for now," he replied, his tone low.

He turned into a driveway and parked in front of a modest, single-story house with the lights off inside.

"This place is mine," he said, cutting the engine.

It was small but inviting in its simplicity. I liked it, oddly enough. I hadn't been to his place before, he always kept to himself. But there was something comforting about it. Something familiar.

"Does Mom know about this place?" I asked, glancing at him as he got out of the car.

"Yeah, she's been here," he replied, locking the car behind him.

We stepped inside, and the scent of something pleasant lingered in the air. The space was simple, just a couch, a table, a bookshelf with worn paperbacks. It felt... safe.

I dropped onto the couch, letting my shoulders relax. The silence here was different, calm, not suffocating like in my apartment.

Dominique checked the windows, his movements careful. Then, he pulled out his phone and started typing. I stared at the blank TV screen, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that I couldn't shake. My reflection in the dark glass didn't look like me. I didn't even recognize the person staring back.

The silence between us stretched, and without thinking, I spoke. "I keep wondering if Mom's okay..."

Dominique glanced up from his phone, his voice soft but steady. "She's tough. She's managed on her own before."

I nodded, but i was still worried. The constant weight in my chest, the unanswered questions.

He sat across from me, his expression changing, more serious now. "Whatever they want, they're trying to control you. Keep you scared. Force you to obey without asking why."

"And if I don't?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. I needed to hear it out loud.

His eyes met mine, and for a second, I saw something in them, something soft, something real. "They have Mom."

The room felt colder. It was like a weight had settled in the air between us.

I didn't realize I was crying until I felt the wetness on my knuckles. I wiped my tears away quickly, ashamed. I didn't want Dominique to see me like this, but he was quiet, just watching me. There was no judgment in his gaze, only quiet understanding.

Without saying anything, he reached over and gently wiped the last of my tears. "You need a hot bath," he said. "I'll prepare it for you."

I nodded, grateful for the distraction. I followed him as he led me down the hall. The apartment was neat, simple. I couldn't help but notice how much care he took in everything, even in the little things.

He showed me to a small room. The bed was neatly made, and a plain blue shirt and fresh pair of briefs were laid out on top. I smiled at him and said, "Thank you."

He nodded, his expression softer now, almost shy. "You're welcome."

He left me to freshen up, and when I came out, he was standing in the hallway, waiting for me. His eyes lit up when he saw me, as if I'd somehow surprised him. Before he could stop himself, he said, "You're beautiful."

His face turned bright red almost immediately, and he quickly looked away, embarrassed. I smiled genuinely, feeling warmth spread through me.

Then he added, "Ton sourire est magnifique." (Your smile is magnificent)

Having learned a bit of French over the years, I understood him perfectly. I shook my head, my cheeks warming with a shy smile.

"Come on," he said, gesturing toward the kitchen. "I've got something for you."

I followed him into the kitchen, where he had already started preparing dinner. He had made spaghetti with marinara sauce, simple, but it smelled amazing. I joined him at the counter, helping him stir the sauce and boil the noodles. As I moved to pour the pasta into the colander, I accidentally splashed some sauce onto his shirt.

He grinned at me, wiping it off with a cloth, but when the stain didn't come out, he shrugged and pulled the shirt off, revealing his toned, sculpted chest. I tried not to stare, but it was hard not to. My gaze was involuntarily drawn to the smooth lines of his muscles, the way his skin seemed to catch the light. He wasn't just fit, his body was effortlessly sexy, like it had been chiseled from stone.

My cheeks flushed as I quickly looked away, then he flicked a spoonful of sauce back at me. I gasped and laughed, dodging it. In the playful moment, I reached out and touched his nose with a bit of pasta. He blinked in surprise, and then his face lit up into a wide grin. He chased me around the kitchen for a moment, and for the first time in a while, I felt light.

Life had been so serious lately. This moment felt like a breath of fresh air.

Eventually, we settled down, sitting on the counter with our plates of food. We ate in comfortable silence, laughing at silly things, talking about random stuff. It was nice, easy.

After dinner, we moved to the living room and turned on the TV. We picked a comedy show, and the lighthearted jokes filled the room. I started to feel the heaviness of the day lifting, my eyelids growing heavier as I relaxed. By the time the show was over, I had fallen asleep on the couch. Dominique, careful not to wake me, kissed my forehead softly and carried me to the room he had shown me earlier.

I sank into the bed, feeling safe, if only for a moment.