Dominated (Obsessed II)

03.

Richard Dawson Jr
The Return
•••

The country club was every bit as exclusive as the people who dined here. The kind of place where the valet knew your name before you even stepped out of the car, and the maître d' didn't ask for your reservation because he knew you'd have the best table. Modern decor with muted tones, expensive marble floors, and discreet service—money didn't need to shout in a place like this.

As I walked in, I immediately spotted my mother. She stood up from the table, graceful as ever, her smile perfectly poised. Her dress was cream, elegant, not a hair out of place. My mother didn't age like other women—time didn't touch her. If anything, it only added to her aura. She kissed both my cheeks, a formal gesture she reserved for public outings, and gave me that look, the one that silently judged but with affection underneath.

"Late as usual," she said, her voice smooth, almost teasing.

I smirked, unbothered. "You should expect it by now."

Madison was already seated, looking every bit like she belonged here. Her blazer was fitted, sharp, she carried herself with that same sense of superiority we were raised with. It wasn't arrogance if it was earned. Her smile was broad, proud even, like she knew something no one else did.

"Junior," she said with a smile that was part greeting, part appraisal, "Finally made time for the family?"

I slid into the chair across from them, my fingers brushing the edge of the tablecloth. "I figured I should bless you both with my presence," I said dryly, glancing between them.

Madison laughed, a light sound that somehow held more weight than it should.

I settled into my seat, glancing at the polished silverware as a way to avoid their stares for a moment. Madison was still grinning like she was enjoying some private joke at my expense, but my mother, ever the poised figure of control, simply watched me with her sharp eyes.

"How's Isabelle?" my mother asked, her voice smooth but with an edge that only someone who knew her well would catch.

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand over my jaw. "She's fine," I replied, almost too casually. "Doing her Pilates, keeping busy."

Madison shot me a quick glance, her brow raised in amusement. My mother wasn't buying it either.

"Is that all you've got to say?" she pressed, not letting me slide past with the bare minimum. "Are you happy?"

There it was—the question she always circled around to. She wasn't one to outright criticize, but she didn't have to. It was in the way she asked things, like she already knew the answer but wanted me to admit it.

I smirked, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Happy? Well, let's see... I have a beautiful wife, a successful career, and all the money I could ever need. Shouldn't I be?"

My mother's lips pressed into a thin line the same way Isabelle did when she wasn't pleased. "You know what I mean."

I met her gaze, my smile fading just a bit. She always knew how to get under my skin, but it wasn't anger I felt. It was more on the annoyance side.

"I'm doing what I need to do," I said, my voice lowering. "Happiness is a luxury, isn't it?"

Madison shifted in her seat, uncomfortable now that the conversation had taken a more serious turn. But my mother's eyes never left mine, and I could see that she wasn't convinced. She never was.

"That's not an answer," she said quietly, her voice steady.

" I'm going to ask again. Are you happy?" She said looking at me as if she was expecting a real answer.