Page 49 of Best In Class
Dom has always been potent. Magnetic. Unapologetically driven. He didn’t get where he is in life or his career by waiting for doors to open. He pushes them. Claims what he wants. Works for it—and takes it.
Now, he wants to work for you, Luna.
I don’t open my eyes, and he doesn’t push me to.
He also doesn’t let go of my hand.
We arrive at Holy Park just past noon.
The hospital is clean-lined, beautiful, and unassuming. It whispers luxury without showing off, and makes you feel taken care of just by walking through the door.
The lobby is flooded with natural light, filtered through solar glass, which adjusts to reduce glare and heat gain throughout the day.
We’re barely minutes into the tour, and I’m already filing away a dozen details—motion-triggered ventilation, recycled composite paneling, the way the floors are laid to minimize acoustics.
“Isn’t it stunning?” our guide gushes.
Kirsten is the head of sustainability for Holy Park. She’s knowledgeable, enthusiastic,andvery clearly into Dom.
What’s with him and women throwing themselves at him?
Women, girls, anyone who identifies as female, has always had a thing for Dom. He’s handsome. He’s charming. He looks like a fucking movie star.
I notice the way Kirsten keeps flipping her hair, how her hand lingers a beat too long on Dom’s forearm when he compliments the lighting schematic. She laughs just a little too loudly, keeping her body angled toward him as if this were a first date and not a professional walkthrough.
I don’t give a damn.
Liar, liar, pants on fire!
We step into a narrow courtyard tucked between two wings of the hospital—a serene, open-air garden filled with native plants, vertical trellises, and pollinator boxes mounted along the south-facing wall.
Kirsten gestures proudly. “This is our healing garden. Everything planted here is drought-tolerant and zero-maintenance. It’s irrigated through a graywater recovery system from the surgical suites. We’ve seen a measurable impact on patient recovery metrics—especially in oncology.”
I nod, impressed. “Love the use of regional flora. And I assume you incorporated permeable pavers for runoff?”
Kirsten beams, not at me, but at mycolleague,even though I’m the one asking the question.
“Exactly! I mean, not everyone understands that, but I’m sure you do, Dom.” She puts her hand on her heart. “I looked you up. You won the Pritzker. That’s…so amazing.”
He nods. “Thanks.”
There is absolutely no indication that he’s noticing her fawning. No indication he’s interested.
Well, good! The bitch can live then!
“It’s basic sustainable design.” I get into her face. “But well executed.”
Kirsten falters for half a second, then turns to Dom. “What do you think, Dom?”
He’s amused. I can see it.
I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t.
Gotta be professional, Luna.
“Luna is already planning something similar for the pediatric wing,” Dom says placidly. “Our green space is north-facing, but we’ve got the airflow to make it work.”
“You know, Luna, if you want, I can get someone to take you to the ventilation system,” Kirsten suggests, fluttering her fake fucking eyelashes at Dom. “Maybe you’d like afresh juice at our Garden Café.” She waves in the direction of a French bistro-looking place.
