Dominated (Obsessed II)

04.

Richard Dawson Jr.
And the world kept turning
•••

When I got home from lunch, the house was quiet. Isabelle was nowhere to be seen, so I took advantage of the solitude. I headed out to the garden, allowing myself to relax in the serene afternoon. The manicured lawns and blooming flowers provided a perfect backdrop for a rare moment of peace, far removed from the hustle of my usual life.

The hours slipped by unnoticed until it was time to get ready. As I moved back inside, I saw Isabelle hurrying up the stairs with a determined stride. I wasn't sure if her urgency was due to anger or just the excitement of getting ready, but it didn't matter much. I took my time getting dressed, knowing that I would inevitably be ready before she was.

I selected a tailored suit, sharp and understated—a classic choice for our anniversary dinner. I adjusted the cuffs and checked my reflection in the mirror. This was our night, a chance to celebrate, even if it felt more like a formality than a true celebration.

When Isabelle finally descended the stairs, she looked stunning. The dress she wore accentuated her figure perfectly, and her makeup was flawless, emphasizing her features in a way that was almost dazzling. She was more beautiful than I remembered from the first time we met, and for a fleeting moment, I felt something—appreciation, perhaps.

But it was like admiring a masterpiece that didn't truly move me. Her appearance didn't tug at my heartstrings the way I wished it would. It was more like observing a rare, exquisite object from a distance.

She met my gaze as she reached the bottom of the stairs, a smile gracing her lips that was meant to be inviting, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Ready?" I asked, trying to sound enthusiastic.

Isabelle nodded. "Ready," she replied. But I could see the tension in her shoulders, a subtle sign that perhaps the evening wasn't as perfect as it was meant to be.

As we headed out to the car, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Maybe it was the lack of genuine connection, or perhaps it was the events of the day. Either way, I was determined to make the most of the evening.

It was our anniversary, after all.

As we stepped into the car, Isabelle offered a soft compliment, "You look nice tonight." I simply nodded and said, "Thanks," noting the brief, awkward pause that followed. She looked away, and I could sense a bit of hurt in her posture, a silent acknowledgement of me not returning the compliment.

We arrived at the venue—a secluded, elegant restaurant that I had rented out just for the evening. It was a sophisticated space. The private dining room was beautifully set, with candles casting a warm glow over a table  with fresh flowers and crystal glassware. The setting was romantic, they did really well with the set up.

She was immediately taken with the place. She pulled out her phone and began snapping pictures for her Instagram, capturing the perfectly arranged table and the stunning view of the city lights twinkling in the distance. Her eyes lit up as she took in the surroundings.

The menu had been curated entirely around her favorite dishes. As she was finishing her photo session, I presented her with the gifts I had carefully selected. The Cartier bracelet, engraved with her initials, was delicately wrapped, and beside it lay a custom, one-of-a-kind Birkin bag. Her eyes widened in surprise and her lips trembled as she unwrapped the gifts.

When she saw the bracelet, her tears began to fall. The Birkin bag, while stunning, was an overwhelming gesture that seemed to touch her deeply. The emotional response was genuine, and I saw the vulnerability in her expression.