Chapter 5 Hold On To Me

Dominic Wolfe hated disorder.

He hated it in the boardroom, in his home, in his own veins. Even the smallest crack in his carefully constructed world made his blood boil.

So when he heard what his father had done behind his back, it didn't take long for the storm inside him to break loose.

"FUCK!"

The sound of a wine bottle shattering against the marble wall ricocheted through the Wolfe estate like thunder. Red liquid streaked down the white, the sharp glass glittering under the chandelier.

In the silence that followed, his mother flinched but said nothing at first. She'd seen this rage before. She knew how it moved-fast, scorching, like wildfire. But she also knew it burned from somewhere deeper.

"Why the fuck doesn't father listen to me?" Dominic's voice was low, bitter. "If I wanted to marry Hailey, I would've done that years ago. For Christ's sake!"

"Dominic," his mother said gently, her voice calm even though her eyes trembled. "You don't have to shout. Hailey is still family, okay? She's... familiar. We just want the best for you."

"The best?" Dominic turned, his face twisted with disbelief. "You really think marrying some woman because her parents are cozy with mine is the best for me?"

"We didn't mean to upset you," she replied carefully. "I'll talk to your father. He didn't mean to-"

"No, Mom. You all think you can just decide my life like I'm a damn teenager. I'm thirty-two. I run multi-billion-dollar companies, and you're out here trying to matchmake me like it's the damn 1800s!"

He paced the room like a caged animal. The veins on his neck stood out. His suit jacket lay discarded over the couch, his tie loosened like a noose he'd almost untied but not quite.

"Hailey is sweet," his mother offered quietly. "She's always cared about you. It's not a forced marriage. It's... a suggestion."

Dominic turned sharply. "Is that what he told you to say? That it's a suggestion? Because behind my back, he's already asked her parents about wedding plans."

He laughed dryly.

"And for what? So the tabloids can print that Dominic Wolfe is finally tied down and the empire is safe?"

"Dom," she tried again, "don't make this harder than it needs to be. Just consider dating again. If not Hailey, then someone. Or are you-" she paused, voice unsure-"into men? Is that it? You haven't exactly been social..."

He froze.

"The hell did you just say?"

"I didn't mean it like that," she backpedaled. "I'm just trying to understand! You're never seen with women anymore. You don't go on dates. You don't bring anyone home. What else am I supposed to think?"

Dominic stared at her for a long second. Disbelief. Anger. A deep, biting sadness hidden beneath it all.

"I'm not having this conversation," he said coldly. "Goodnight, Mrs. Wolfe."

He started for the door, then paused in the archway, jaw tight.

"And when I get back from this ridiculous charity event tonight, you better have spoken to your husband. Because he has no right-none-to make decisions on my behalf. Not when he walked out and left you to raise us alone. Don't forget that."

His mother looked away, blinking hard.

Dominic scoffed. "Now he wants to play the loving father? Ask for my hand in marriage like I'm a fucking princess?"

He shook his head, bitterness twisting his mouth. "If he wanted to play king, he should've stayed in the damn castle."

And with that, he stormed out-slamming the door behind him with a thud that rattled the chandeliers.

The heavy door slammed behind him, leaving echoes in the marble hall and silence in his mother's throat.

Outside, Dominic slipped into the back of his black Maybach. The driver-already waiting-didn't ask questions. Dominic gave him the address with a dry, clipped tone.

"The Gala," he muttered, lighting a cigarette. Smoke curled around his face, half-shrouding the scowl carved into his jawline.

His fingers drummed restlessly on his thigh. Every inhale felt like breathing in ash. Every exhale carried a curse meant for his father.

He hated him.

Not in the dramatic, petty kind of way-but in the deep, guttural way a man could hate a ghost who never truly left yet always loomed, always dictated, always moved pieces without consent.

The car pulled up to the venue thirty minutes later. The driver stepped out, circling to open Dominic's door-but flashes were already erupting.

Paparazzi.

"Mr. Wolfe, over here!"

"Dominic, are the rumors about Hailey true?"

"Is the Wolfe Corporation merging with Drax & Co?"

He didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Just slid out of the car, tailored black suit clinging to his frame like a second skin. Every camera caught the curve of his smirk, the smoke still trailing from his cigarette like sin.

He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt as he walked through the chaos, not sparing a single glance at the media swarm. Security cleared the path ahead.

Inside, the air was laced with wealth and quiet competition-black ties, silk gowns, heavy perfume, laughter that never quite reached the eyes. Powerful men stood in clusters, glasses of aged whiskey in hand, exchanging fake smiles and expensive secrets.

Dominic nodded at a few familiar faces. A senator. Two oil magnates. A retired arms dealer turned philanthropist. The same circle, the same masks.

Until he turned his head slightly-and froze.

There she was.

Across the hall, near the champagne fountain, in a wine-red gown that poured over her like spilled silk.

Vivianne Chase.

The woman who'd marched into his office last week like she owned it. Arrogant. Unbothered. With lips too calm and eyes too loud. The woman who left a mark without even touching him.

Tonight, she looked different.

No, not different. More dangerous.

She turned just then, catching his stare, and smiled like she'd planned the whole thing.

Dominic made his way toward her without a word. Something pulled him there-curiosity, maybe. Or something older. Something his mind couldn't name, but his body remembered.

He stopped in front of her, his tone low, teasing. "I didn't know you went to places like this..."

Vivianne tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "Mr. Dominic Wolfe. A pleasure to see you again."

That voice. Calm, polished. With just enough sharpness to keep a man from getting too close. And yet, he already was.

"Drink with me?" he asked, eyeing the crystal glass in her hand.

"I would love to," she replied, brushing what looked like invisible dust from his lapel, her fingers deliberate. The touch sent a jolt straight down his spine. "But I'm here with someone."

A pause. A smirk.

"You have a partner?" His brow lifted. "You sure? Because last time we met, you asked if I was married."

Vivianne's eyes sparkled. "Forgive my sharp tongue," she said, voice like velvet laced with thorns. "Sometimes, it gets ahead of me."

He chuckled softly, but his gaze didn't leave hers.

And neither did his thoughts.

There was something in the way she looked at him. Not like the others who saw power or legacy or family name-but like she saw something else. Something buried.

And then she touched his arm again-just briefly, just enough.

Vivianne felt the spark.

That old, familiar current that used to live in her skin when he touched her. Her breath hitched, but she masked it with a sip of wine. His cologne hit her next-clean, dangerous, so him-and for a second, the room blurred. Memory mingled with reality.

The way he used to look at her.

The way he used to touch her.

And now... he didn't even know.

She smiled again, slow and effortless, like her heart wasn't racing. Like her soul hadn't trembled the moment their eyes met.

Dominic stared at her longer than he should have. The noise of the gala faded, the lights dimmed, and for just a second... it was only her.

Something about her felt like déjà vu.

Something about her felt like... home.

He didn't know why. And that unsettled him more than he liked.

Maybe it was the curve of her mouth, or the way her gaze felt like it belonged to another life. Either way, something about her was getting under his skin.

Without thinking-impulse overriding sense-Dominic reached out, brushing his fingers gently beneath her chin, tilting it just slightly.

She stiffened. Her breath caught.

His eyes searched hers, and for a fleeting second, he almost leaned in. Something in him whispered: Just kiss her. It was irrational, reckless, and absolutely not him. But damn, she was looking at him like she remembered something he'd forgotten.

Then-

"Babe."

A male voice cut clean through the electricity.

Dominic dropped his hand, his jaw tightening as a figure stepped smoothly between them, claiming the space with smug familiarity.

Timothy Brown.

Of course.

He slid an arm around Vivianne's waist and kissed her cheek. "I missed you," he said, eyes flicking sideways-just enough to throw gasoline on an already burning fire.

Vivianne forced a smile, but Dominic saw her jaw twitch. "Timothy," she said, voice lower, tighter. "Not now."

"Mr. Dominic," Timothy said, ignoring her. His smirk was polished and infuriating. "Hope you're enjoying the night. Thought you'd be here with your fiancée-what's her name again? Ah yes... Hailey."

Dominic's stare turned lethal.

"You sure know how to put your nose where it doesn't belong."

Timothy chuckled. "Just being friendly. It's what we civilized men do."

"Brown!" Vivianne gritted, her voice sharper now as she tugged his arm. "Let's go."

"Yes, of course," he said, turning to her with exaggerated concern. "I'm sure you're cold."

That did it.

Dominic felt something twist in his chest. Not just irritation. Rage. Possessiveness. Jealousy? No. He didn't get jealous.

But watching Brown touch her like that, talk to her like that, made him want to hit something.

Made him want to pull her back.

So he did.

Dominic grabbed her wrist before she could leave, spinning her gently but firmly back toward him.

She gasped, caught between them.

His hand was hot against her skin. Her heart pounded.

"Vivianne..." His voice was low. Dangerous. "We're not finished."

Timothy took a step forward, placing his hand on her other arm, matching Dominic's hold. "I believe she said let's go."

Tension spiked.

Both men held her-one on each side-glaring at each other over her shoulders. Vivianne stood frozen, pulse racing, caught between two titans.

Dominic's grip tightened just slightly. He didn't know what the hell this was, but he knew one thing:

He wasn't letting her walk away.

Not yet.