Chapter 4 WHEN THE NIGHT BURNS

Liana didn't know what time she finally drifted off. Maybe around 3 a.m., after staring at the ceiling for hours, wondering if the man who haunted her dreams would return and push her into another kind of nightmare.

But morning came, and Dominic wasn't there.

She sat up slowly, wrapped in expensive sheets that smelled faintly of cedarwood and something darker-something male. She closed her eyes and exhaled.

She hated how disappointed she felt.

Dragging herself out of bed, she padded across the polished floor, barefoot, the hem of his button-down shirt brushing her thighs. Her body still felt too warm, too aware-like her skin hadn't yet recovered from the way his gaze had touched her the night before.

She found him in the kitchen.

Bare-chested, dressed in loose dark slacks, he was standing by the coffee machine. The early sunlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, gilding the sharp lines of his back, the rigid muscles that flexed when he lifted the pot.

She hesitated in the doorway, suddenly self-conscious.

He turned slightly, catching her in his periphery. His eyes flicked over her-his shirt on her body, her bare legs, the sleep in her expression.

"Good morning," he said, his voice low and unreadable.

"You didn't come back last night."

"Didn't think it was a good idea."

"Why not?"

He looked at her fully now, his stare steady. "Because if I came back, I wouldn't have stopped."

A beat passed between them. Her chest tightened.

He turned back to the coffee and poured two mugs. When he slid one toward her, their fingers brushed. Heat flashed up her arm, uninvited.

"Strawberries," he said simply, gesturing to a plate he'd prepared. Toast, eggs, and a small bowl of strawberries. "You still like them, don't you?"

She stared at him, surprised.

"You remembered."

Dominic didn't respond. He just sat down at the counter, picked up his mug, and sipped.

The silence between them was thick, but it didn't feel empty. It was the kind of silence that hummed with unspoken things, old things. The kind that made her chest ache.

She slid onto the stool across from him and wrapped her fingers around her coffee, unsure where to start.

"I still don't understand what you're doing," she murmured finally. "You drag me into this world of yours, make me feel like a prisoner, and then... serve me strawberries like we're playing house."

Dominic's jaw flexed.

"Because I don't know what the hell I'm doing either."

That wasn't what she expected.

He set his mug down and leaned forward, his eyes darker now. "I brought you here out of anger. I wanted answers. Maybe even revenge. But then I saw you again, and everything I thought I'd buried came clawing back."

She swallowed. Hard.

"Then what is this, Dominic? What do you want from me?"

He let out a slow breath, like the words were tearing their way out of him. "I want you to hate me less than I hate myself for still wanting you."

The confession stunned her.

Before she could respond, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold locket. Her breath caught.

It was hers.

The one she lost the day everything fell apart. The one he gave her under the stars on his twenty-first birthday.

"You kept it?" she whispered.

"I never stopped."

Her fingers trembled as she took it from him, flipping it open to reveal the tiny photo of them-young, laughing, before the fire and ruin.

Liana felt the tears rise fast and uninvited.

"I thought you hated me," she said softly.

"I did," he replied. "But hate doesn't erase history. And it sure as hell doesn't erase love."

She looked at him. Really looked. Past the anger. Past the power and sharp edges. She saw the boy she'd once kissed under a thunderstorm, who swore they'd run away together someday.

She got up slowly and walked around the island.

Dominic didn't move.

He just watched her, chest rising and falling as she came to stand between his knees.

She placed a hand on his face.

"I'm not the same girl you knew."

"I'm not the same man."

Their faces were inches apart.

"Then maybe we stop pretending we are," she whispered.

The kiss was gentle this time. Hesitant. Their lips met like old friends unsure if they still belonged to one another.

But when he deepened it-when his hand slid to the back of her neck and pulled her closer-the hesitation cracked into heat.

Still, she pulled back first.

Eyes glossy. Heart racing.

"I can't fall for you again," she whispered.

Dominic brushed a thumb down her jaw.

"You never stopped."