Page 35 of His for Christmas
"It's complicated," I hedge, though that's a massive understatement.
"So it's true!" Megan's voice rises with excitement. "Holly Parker, are you sleeping with the billionaire whose house you're decorating? Because that's either the most cliché or most brilliant career move ever."
"It's not a career move," I protest immediately. "It's…I don't know what it is, exactly."
"Well, you can tell us all about it on Saturday," she says firmly. "Nora's hosting the Christmas party this year. Eight o'clock. Bring wine and all the dirty details."
I hesitate, and she catches it instantly.
"Oh my God, you're actually considering not coming?" Disbelief colors her voice. "You haven't missed the annual Christmas party since we started having them six years ago. It's practically your second religion."
"I'm not sure I can make it," I say carefully. "Dominic has several events scheduled, and the installation timeline is tight."
"Holly." Megan's voice turns serious. "You work for him. You're allowed to have a personal life outside of that job, no matter how spectacular the sex is."
Her bluntness makes me laugh, though there's a uncomfortable truth in her words that pricks at my conscience. "It's not just the job," I admit. "It's…intense. He's intense."
"Intense how?" Concern replaces the teasing in her tone. "Holly, is everything okay?"
"Yes, of course," I assure her quickly. "He treats me wonderfully. He's just very…possessive."
"Possessive?" She sounds alarmed now. "Like, controlling? Red flag, Holly."
"Not controlling exactly," I try to explain, though I'm not sure that's entirely true. The image of Dominic's face when he confronted Mark the lighting specialist flashes through my mind—the cold fury in his eyes, the unmistakable claim in his touch when he put his hand on my back. "He knows what he wants and he's used to getting it. And right now, what he wants is me."
"And what do you want?" Megan asks, cutting straight to the heart of the matter as she always does.
The question catches me off guard. What do I want? These past two weeks have been a whirlwind of desire and discovery, my days filled with work and my nights with Dominic. I've barely had time to think about what I want beyond the next kiss, the next touch, the next moment in his arms.
"I want..." I pause, genuinely uncertain. "I want to figure out what this is between us. But I also don't want to lose myself in it."
"Then come to the party," Megan urges. "Take one night for yourself, for your friends who miss you. If Mr. Billionaire can't handle that, then maybe that tells you something important about what this relationship really is."
She's right, and I know it. The thought of telling Dominic I have other plans for Saturday night makes my stomach tighten with anxiety, though—a reaction that itself is worrying. When did I become afraid of asserting my independence?
"I'll try," I promise, not quite committing. "I need to check a few things first."
Megan sighs, clearly frustrated with my equivocation. "Holly, listen to yourself. You've never needed to 'check' before making plans with your closest friends. This doesn't sound healthy."
"It's still new," I defend weakly. "We're still figuring things out."
"Just promise me you'll come up for air long enough to remember who you were before Dominic Sterling swept you off your feet," she says. "The Holly I know doesn't need anyone's permission to see her friends."
Her words hit harder than she probably intended. Have I really changed so much in two weeks? Has Dominic's intensity, his possessiveness, already altered how I navigate my own life?
"I'll be there," I say suddenly, making the decision in that moment. "Saturday at eight. I'll bring that spiced wine everyone liked last year."
"Really?" Megan sounds both pleased and surprised. "No checking with the boss first?"
"He's not my boss in everything," I reply with more confidence than I feel. "I'm allowed to have a social life."
After we hang up, I stare at my phone, a mixture of emotions swirling through me. Excitement about seeing my friends. Anxiety about telling Dominic. And beneath both, a troubling realization that I've allowed his preferences to dictate my choices without even noticing.
Last weekend, he mentioned wanting to take me to the symphony on Saturday evening. Not quite a firm plan, but an expressed desire. When I tell him I've made other arrangements, how will he react? The Dominic who whispers tender words in the night, who watches me with wonder when he thinks I'm not looking—that Dominic might understand, might respect my need for time with friends.
But the Dominic who pulled me into a secluded room after seeing another man simply talk to me, who declared me his with absolute certainty, who arranges my life with the same precision he applies to business acquisitions—that Dominic might see my independent plans as a challenge to his authority, a rejection of his claim.
And I'm no longer certain which Dominic is the real one—or if perhaps both are, two sides of a complex man I'm still only beginning to understand.
