Fatally Yours

Chapter 55

•INDIANA•

I sat at the long conference table, confusion sitting heavy in my chest as I watched people file into the room one by one.

Dominik had called me last night, his tone tight and unreadable, to tell me about the meeting. When I asked what it was about, he simply said it was important and that he'd explain everything tomorrow.

That had been enough to keep me up all night. Something was off—I could feel it in the way his voice clipped short, in the way he avoided saying anything else.

And now, as everyone gathered, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

The room buzzed with low whispers. The men took their seats, some shuffling toward the back as the large rectangular table couldn't accommodate everyone.

I was seated close to the head of the table—Dominik's seat—and I glanced around, scanning for him. He still wasn't here.

Across from me, Katarina and Alexa sat side by side. Alexa was leaning back in her chair, eyes glued to her phone, the faint pop-pop of her chewing gum cutting through the murmurs in the room.

Katarina, on the other hand, was glaring at me. Hard.

Her narrowed eyes burned through me like she was trying to find something hidden on my face. I frowned at her, confused.

What the hell was her problem?

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair and turned my attention toward the door just as the faint hum of whispers quieted. A low murmur rippled through the room. I didn't need to look up to know Dominik had arrived.

When he entered, I felt it.

The energy in the room shifted—every single person straightened, their heads bowing slightly in respect as he walked past them.

His men's silent acknowledgment of his presence was something I'd gotten used to, but today, the sight made me uneasy.

He moved deliberately, his heavy footsteps echoing against the tile floor as he made his way to the front. I couldn't take my eyes off him. Something was wrong.

Dominik's face was unreadable, carved from stone. His jaw was tight, his shoulders rigid with tension. I searched his expression for a flicker of familiarity, a sign of the man I knew, but I found nothing.

He didn't glance my way—not once—and the knot in my stomach pulled tighter.

I don't understand. What's going on with him?

When he finally reached his chair, he lowered himself into it slowly, his movements precise. I watched him, desperate for him to look at me, to give me anything—some kind of sign—but his eyes remained fixed on the table in front of him, his features hard and unrelenting.

I let out a quiet breath and shifted closer, my hand brushing against his beneath the table, the way I always did. A silent, familiar gesture.

A reassurance—for both of us.

But Dominik pulled away.

The motion was quick. Barely noticeable to anyone else, but I felt it like a slap. My heart lurched in my chest as he folded his hands together on the table, his knuckles white.

The pang of hurt that shot through me was sharp and sudden, cutting me deeper than I expected.

What was happening? What changed?