Chapter 14

Dominic had cut Elliot's car off.

He'd clearly been speeding.

Neither car could be driven after that.

The three of us ended up in a private room together.

Elliot recovered his composure in front of others. He stated his position immediately: he wouldn't consent to a divorce.

"Until we're legally divorced, we're husband and wife."

He looked at Dominic. "Mr. Kingsley—with your resources and standing, do you really want to share a woman with another man?"

I closed my eyes briefly.

Dominic slid a box of tissues toward me, then turned back to Elliot.

"Actually—we have shared one, as it happens." He let the pause land deliberately, watching Elliot's expression. "Just not this one."

Elliot's confusion curdled into fury. "What are you talking about?"

Dominic gave a quiet, dismissive laugh.

"Shall I call Natasha and have her join us?"

Elliot went rigid.

"You know Natasha?"

Dominic settled into the seat beside me.

"Elliot—didn't you want to know how I came to know him?"

I raised my head slowly and met Elliot's gaze.

"The woman you had an affair with. She was his kept woman."

Elliot's face went white, then flushed, then white again. I recognized that expression—the look of a man being publicly stripped of something.

Dominic leaned back, legs crossed, watching him with something close to amusement.

"Elliot. You cheated on me with someone I was also involved with. I'd decided to let it go. But you won't drop this thing with Vivian—and you're not showing any sign of reciprocating the grace. That's a bit much, don't you think?"

Elliot could barely stand.

"Natasha—" He seemed to catch himself. "Nothing happened between us. Nothing real."

He came around to me and dropped to his knees, both hands on my legs.

"You believe a stranger over me?"

I looked down at him, cold. "I walked in on you kissing her—"

"She threw herself at me. If you'd stayed a second longer, you'd have seen me push her away." He was coming apart, eyes wet. "If you'd just stayed—"

I closed my eyes.

We're past that. Why keep pretending?

Dominic had seen enough. He grabbed Elliot's arm and shoved him back.

"Are you finished? I spent a lot of money buying a video from Natasha. You were careful—your face doesn't appear. But we have your hand. Your voice. I believe she could identify them. I just haven't shown it to her yet."

I looked up, startled.

He had the evidence the whole time?

Dominic looked at his rival—cornered and breaking—and asked him with complete sincerity:

"Elliot. Are you sure you want to destroy whatever she still believes about you?"

Elliot stared at me. He didn't move. Then he buried his face in his hand and his whole body shook with muffled, ragged sobs.

He finally admitted it.

Clinging to the last fragment of hope, he came to me and spoke carefully.

"Vivian—would you be willing to forgive me? I'm willing to forgive you too. We've both made mistakes now. Let's call it even. I'll end things with Natasha—I promise. I never loved her. I was under so much pressure. The person I love is you. I never wanted to leave you—"

I watched him fall apart, and something in me went quiet.

So that's how it worked.

His calm, all this time, had been built on my pain. Now that he was carrying it, I could be still.

"No." I gave him the answer. "Let's get divorced."

Dominic took my hand and moved me behind him.

"Elliot, I'm not patient by nature. You'll be agreeing to an uncontested divorce. Given that you're the party at fault, you'll waive all asset claims. If you don't cooperate, the evidence goes to the lawyer."

Elliot's face had drained. "Understood."

I looked at him one last time. "Elliot—up until today, nothing happened between us. Between me and him."

Dominic frowned, pulled my hand, and we headed for the door. Under his breath: "He just confessed to everything. Why are you still covering for yourself—"

"She's not covering—I believe her—she's telling the truth—"

Elliot came alive suddenly—ran after us, caught up to the car window.

I was already inside. Dominic rolled it down. "Something else?"

"You're not her type." He'd come all this way just to say that.

Dominic raised an eyebrow. "Taste can be cultivated."

He turned away, raised the window, swung the car, and left Elliot small in the rearview mirror.

I sat with my head down and didn't think about anything. Like I'd used up every last bit of energy I had.

After a while, Dominic broke the quiet. "What do you think?"

"Of what?"

"My type." His eyes wandered, one finger resting on the wheel. "You seem to like someone softer. Kinder."

"I don't—do I?"

"You do." Certain. "Elliot figured it out. That's why he started trying to recalibrate himself to match what he thought you wanted." He paused, then looked over at me. "I've figured it out too. But I won't do that. I want you to like the real me."

I went still for a moment. Something shifted into place.

"I will," I said.

"Good. Let me take you to dinner."

He rested one hand on the wheel. The faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

"Congratulations to you. And to me."