Page 46 of Falling for the Grump Billionaire

Dominic steps closer, his presence dominating the space. “I don’t need proof to know you’re behind this. But trust me, I’ll get it. And when I do, you’ll wish you’d never set foot in my orbit.”

The man’s smirk doesn’t waver, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—wariness, perhaps, or recognition of the storm brewing in front of him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” the man says. “But you’re too late. The wheels are already in motion. There’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

Dominic leans in, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “Watch me.”

The conversation is cut short by the sound of footsteps approaching. Dominic tenses, his body moving instinctively in front of me. A guard appears at the edge of the lounge, his expression unreadable as he scans the room.

“Time’s up,” the Mercer representative says, rising from his chair. “I’d suggest you leave while you still can.”

But Dominic doesn’t move. Instead, he pulls out his phone, holding it up for the man to see. “I already have what I need,” he says.

The Mercer representative’s smirk falters for the first time, his eyes narrowing as he looks at the device. “What did you do?”

Dominic’s smile is cold and sharp. “Insurance.”

The tension in the room is electric, the kind that could explode at any moment. The guard takes a step forward, his hand hovering near his holster.

“We should go,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

Dominic nods, his hand brushing against mine as he turns toward the exit. “Stay close.”

The walk back to the car feels like a sprint through enemy territory. Every shadow, every noise sets my nerves on edge.But Dominic’s presence is steady, a grounding force as we move through the night.

As we slide into the car, his phone buzzes again. He glances at the screen, his expression darkening.

“What is it?” I ask, dread coiling in my stomach.

He hands me the phone, the message glaring back at me in bold, taunting letters:

“You can’t win a game you don’t understand.”

The car falls silent, the weight of the threat pressing down on us like a vice.

“They’re trying to rattle us,” Dominic says finally, his voice steely. “But they’ve underestimated one thing.”

“What’s that?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looks at me, his blue eyes burning with determination. “I don’t lose.”

14

__________

Dominic

The tension between us is razor-thin as we step into the penthouse. Every movement feels measured, like a delicate balance that could shatter at any moment. The confrontation with Mercer’s CFO was nothing but smoke and mirrors—cryptic remarks, evasions, and no actionable evidence. We’re chasing shadows, and time isn’t on our side.

I close the door behind us with more force than intended and lean heavily against it. Exhaustion pulls at me—not just from the lack of sleep but the relentless weight of holding everything together while the cracks in my world deepen.

“How far does this go?” Eva’s voice slices through the silence, sharp and demanding.

I glance at her. The determination in her expression is unwavering, but there’s an edge of accusation that cuts deeper than she probably realizes. “What are you asking?”

She crosses her arms, frustration rippling off her. “I’m asking how much of this you already knew.” Her voice is steady, but the question lands like a punch. “You keep pointing to Conrad, but what if this goes beyond him? What if there are others—people you trust—who are part of this?”

My jaw tightens instinctively. She doesn’t understand the terrain she’s stepping into, the tightrope I’ve been walking for years. “Trust is a luxury I can’t afford,” I say finally. The words come out clipped, harder than I intend. “And yes, there are cracks—ones I’ve seen and ignored because to fix them would mean tearing apart everything I’ve built.”

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