Dominic followed Don into his study, the door clicking shut behind them. The room was filled with the rich scent of aged leather and polished wood, the dim light casting long shadows across the walls. Don cleared his throat as he walked over to his desk, seating himself with an air of authority. He clasped his hands together, his gaze fixed on Dominic, who stood impassively.
“When were you going to tell me you are seeing my daughter?” Don asked, his voice stern.
Dominic chuckled, a sound devoid of humor, as he sat down opposite Don. “I am not with your daughter. She hates me,” he replied, nonchalantly adjusting the cuff of his shirt.
Don leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “That didn’t look like hate,” he said pointedly.
Dominic rolled his eyes, mirroring Don’s posture as he……
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