Chapter 7: Accidental Touch
The truce with the Kovacs holds. One week. Two. Long enough for Allie to breathe, for the twins to settle into their new routines, for Dom to believe that maybe, just maybe, his way can work.
They are careful with each other. The kiss on the couch that night has not been repeated, though Allie thinks of it constantly. Dom is respectful, distant in public, warm in private. He is learning her boundaries, and she is learning that she wants him to cross them.
On a Tuesday, two weeks after the meeting with Marko, they work late. A crisis with a shipping partner, contracts that need review, decisions that cannot wait.
By 10 PM, the building is empty except for security. Allie's eyes blur over the same paragraph she has read five times. Dom paces, phone to his ear, arguing with someone in rapid Russian.
She watches him. The way he moves, controlled even in anger. The way his shirt pulls across his shoulders when he gestures. The way he catches her watching and softens, just slightly, just for her.
"Problem solved," he says, hanging up. "The shipment will move. Legally, this time."
"Progress," Allie smiles.
"Slow progress. Frustrating progress. But yes." He sits across from her, runs his hands through his hair. "I am tired, Allie. Tired of fighting my own people to do the right thing."
"I know." She stands, stretches, walks to the window. The city spreads below, lights and life and danger. "But you are winning. The board approved the new ethics policy. Three major clients signed on because of your transparency initiative. You are building something real."
"With your help. I could not do this without you."
Allie turns. He is closer than she expected. She must have drifted toward him without realizing, or he toward her. They are inches apart, breathing the same air.
"Dom," she whispers.
"Allie." His voice is rough. "I promised to be careful. To give you space. But I need you to know... I need you to understand what you do to me."
"What do I do?"
"You make me want. Not just your body, though God knows I want that. You make me want to be worthy. To be good. To be the man you believe I can be." He lifts his hand, traces her jaw with one finger. "Tell me to stop. Tell me to step back, and I will."
Allie should. She knows she should. They are in his office, alone, her his employee, him her boss, the complications endless.
Instead, she leans into his touch. "I do not want you to stop."
Dom makes a sound, low and broken. He cups her face, tilts it up, studies her like she is water and he is dying of thirst.
"Tell me this is real," he whispers. "Tell me you want this, me, us. Not because you need the job, not because of the twins, but because you feel what I feel."
"It is real," Allie says. "I feel it. I have felt it since that night, when you looked at me like I was the only person in the world."
Dom kisses her. Finally, fully, the kiss she has wanted without admitting it. It is not gentle. It is hungry, desperate, five years of waiting and wanting poured into one moment. His hands tangle in her hair, pull her closer, and she responds with equal need, equal urgency.
They stumble back, hit the desk, papers scattering. Dom lifts her onto it, stands between her knees, kisses her neck, her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. Allie arches into him, gasping, her hands under his shirt, learning the heat of his skin.
"Allie," he groans against her shoulder. "We should stop. Before we cannot."
"I do not want to stop."
"I do not either. But..." he pulls back, breathing hard, his face flushed and his eyes dark. "The first time, five years ago, we were reckless. We did not think. I want to think now. I want to do this right. Dinner, dates, time to know each other again. Not... not like this, rushed and secret and wrong."
Allie touches his face. The stubble on his jaw, the sweat on his temple, the mouth that kissed her like she was his salvation. "You are right. We should wait. Do this properly."
"I hate being right," Dom mutters.
Allie laughs, surprised, and kisses his forehead. "So do I. But we are adults. With children. With responsibilities. We can wait."
They straighten their clothes, gather the scattered papers, pretend they have not been shaken to their cores.
But when they leave, Dom takes her hand. In the elevator, in the lobby, on the street where anyone can see. He does not let go until they reach the subway, and even then, he lingers, he hesitates, he promises with his eyes that this is only the beginning.
Allie rides home smiling. Terrified, but smiling.
The next day, Viktor appears.
Allie is at her desk, reviewing the morning mail, when he leans in her doorway. He is smiling, charming, and his eyes are cold as winter.
"Ms. Bennett. Or should I say, future Mrs. Volkov?"
"I am not what do you want, Viktor?"
"Just to congratulate you. My cousin, finally settling down. And with such a... such a common choice. A single mother from nowhere. No family, no connections, no idea what she is getting into."
Allie sets down her pen. "I know exactly what I am getting into. And I am not afraid of you."
"You should be." Viktor steps closer, close enough that she can smell his cologne, sharp and aggressive.
"The Kovacs are playing with you. The truce is temporary, a trick. And when they strike, you will be the first to fall. You and those brats you call children."
Allie stands up. She will not be intimidated, not by this man, not in this place that is hers now too.
"Leave my office. Now."
"Or what? You will tell Dominic? He already knows I despise you. He keeps me around anyway, because we are family, because he is soft, because he thinks blood means loyalty." Viktor leans in, whispering. "But blood can be spilled, Ms. Bennett. And children can be... lost. So easily. A car accident, a kidnapping, a fall from a high window. These things happen."
Allie hits the panic button under her desk. She does not know if it works, if anyone will come, but she will not sit here and be threatened.
"You are making a mistake," she says, her voice steady. "I am not a victim, Viktor. I am a mother. And mothers will do anything to protect their young."
"So will I," Viktor says. "Protect my family. My inheritance. My rightful place. You are in the way, Ms. Bennett. And I remove obstacles."
The door opens. Security, two large men, alert and ready.
"Mr. Volkov's cousin was just leaving," Allie says. "Please escort him out. And from now on, he is not allowed on this floor without my explicit permission."
Viktor's smile flickers. He did not expect this. Did not expect her to fight back, to have power, to use it.
"This is not over," he says.
"It is for today," Allie replies.
The security men lead him out. Allie sits down, her hands shaking, and she allows herself one minute of fear. One minute to feel the weight of what she has done, the enemy she has made, the danger she has invited.
Then she picks up her phone and calls Dom.
He arrives in minutes, breathing hard, terrified. "Allie. Are you hurt? Did he touch you?"
"No. He threatened me. The twins. He said... he said blood can be spilled."
Dom's face transforms. Ice and fury and something worse, something that reminds her he is not just her lover, not just her boss, but a man raised in violence, capable of terrible things.
"I will kill him," Dom says, flat and certain.
"No." Allie catches his hands, pulls him to sit beside her. "No, Dom. That is what he wants. To provoke you, to make you react, to show the board that you are unstable, violent, unfit to lead."
"Then what do I do? Let him threaten my family? Let him walk free?"
"You remove him. Legally, officially, without giving him what he wants. You have proof of his meeting with the Kovacs. Use it. Call the shadow court, the elders, let them judge him. Show them that you are strong enough to follow the rules, even when provoked."
Dom stares at her. "You are asking me to be patient. To be... civilized."
"I am asking you to be smart. To win." Allie squeezes his hands. "I believe in you, Dom. In the man you are becoming. Do not let Viktor turn you back into what you were."
Dom is silent for a long time. Then he nods, slowly, and some of the violence drains from his face.
"Okay," he says. "Your way. First. But Allie? If the court fails, if he walks, I will handle him my way. I will not let him threaten you again."
"Fair," Allie agrees. "But let us hope it does not come to that."