Pain.
That was the first thing I felt, wrapping around my ribs and hips like barbed wire. A deep, bone-deep ache that throbbed through every inch of me. Everything hurt—from my throat to the soles of my feet.
For a second, I thought I was dreaming. Then the sharp scent of antiseptic hit me, and the weight of the blankets confirmed this wasn’t my bed at home. Or any home.
The memories came like a gut punch. The kitchen. The sharp gush of fluid. Carrie’s panicked voice, calling for help. The ambulance. Contractions like a freight train.
And…Dom.
God, had that been real?
I squeezed my eyes shut, but the image wouldn’t fade—the sharp lines of his jaw, those commanding dark eyes staring down at me through the fog of pain.
No. Couldn’t be him. Couldn’t be real.
The stress, the blood loss, the sheer terror of what was happening—it had to have conjured him out of thin air. A cruel trick from a brain desperate for comfort.
Because if it had been him—
No.
I wouldn’t be that unlucky. Out of all the hospitals in this goddamn city, it wouldn’t be his.
I forced my eyes open, blinking against the dim hospital room light.
And there he was.
Dom.
Seated beside me, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely as if he’d been sitting there for hours. Scrubs stretched across his broad shoulders, and his dark brows were pulled tight, studying me like I was a riddle he couldn’t solve.
Oh my God. No. No, no, no.
I could barely breathe. Panic prickled under my skin like needles.
My ex-boyfriend’s father.
The man I’d slept with.
The man who gave me the two babies now missing from my arms.
It felt like the air got sucked out of the room.
This wasn’t just bad luck. This was catastrophic.
What if he saw them? What if they look like him? What if he puts it all together before I can get out of here?
Because he was their father. And if anyone would notice the resemblance, it would be him. And what then?
He’d have rights. He could stop me from leaving. Worse—he could demand to be part of their lives.
And even if he didn’t want them? Even if he decided fatherhood wasn’t for him at nearly fifty years old? The mere fact that he’d know would ruin everything.
Leo’s voice echoed like poison in my head. “He doesn’t do family. He barely did it with us.”
And worse—how the hell was I supposed to look him in the eye?
Leo’s father.
The man who had ruined me in all the best ways on that island. The man Leo swore up and down was cold, career-obsessed, emotionally detached.
And yet here he sat, steady and watchful, like he gave a damn.
The forbidden heat under the panic wasn’t helping either.
Because beneath the terror was something else.
That impossible pull—the one that hadn’t let go since the night in paradise.
God, how could he still look like that? How could the sight of him—even now—make my stomach flutter like it had no clue we were in a disaster zone?
Dom leaned forward, picked up a plastic cup, and gently tipped it toward my lips. “Small sips,” he murmured, voice low and steady—a balm and a razor all at once.
Then his hand brushed under my head, cradling it as if I were fragile. Too fragile.
The cool water slid down my raw throat, but it barely touched the wildfire beneath my skin.
His touch burned.
It was steady, tender—but it made me feel unsteady, like I was seconds from cracking wide open.
Stay calm. Don’t let him see the cracks.
But then his scent hit me.
That subtle, masculine cologne—spicy, woodsy, faintly like him. Like salt air and skin-warmed bourbon. The scent I’d inhaled against his neck the night he ruined me for every other man.
The cool water trickled down my raw throat. This was real. He was real.
My babies.
Panic surged as my hands moved instinctively to my stomach, now sore and empty. My breath hitched, and Dom caught it immediately.
‘They’re okay,’ he assured me, his voice steady and firm, cutting through my fear. ‘They’re small, but they’re strong, breathing on their own. The NICU team is monitoring them, but everything looks good. Again, they’re small for newborns, but considering the circumstances, they’re remarkably large. You did good, Ella.’
A sharp exhale left me as relief crashed over me, making me momentarily lightheaded. I blinked up at him, trying to process everything. ‘You…you’re really here?’ My voice was raspy and hoarse from exhaustion and the intubation tube.
His lips twitched, just slightly. ‘Yeah, I’m here.’
I closed my eyes for a brief second as if that would help me make sense of this. ‘I thought I imagined you. In the ER.’
Dom leaned back in his chair, watching me carefully. ‘You weren’t imagining things. You landed in my hospital.’
His hospital. Shit.
Of course. Of course, this had to happen. What are the odds? One hundred percent when it comes to me.
Annoyance flared to life, not at him, but at the cruel irony of the universe. Carrie had sent me here. She had made the call when I passed out, likely not even thinking twice about it. Just focusing on getting me and the babies the best care possible. Her husband worked here, so naturally, she’d tell the EMTs to take me here.
I knew that. And yet, I wanted to groan in frustration.
Carrie had no idea about Dom. She knew about the “mystery man” from my tropical getaway, but I had deliberately left out any identifying details. If she had known, she never would have sent me here.
Hell, she even sent me to a hospital where my doctor doesn’t have privileges. Clearly, the EMTs told her this was a serious emergency. I can’t blame her, but I want to. But since she didn’t know, then Dom still didn’t know. And I needed to keep it that way.
‘That’s…a weird coincidence,’ I murmured, shifting slightly in bed. Pain radiated through me, but I bit down on it.
His brow furrowed, his head tilting slightly. ‘Yeah. Some coincidence.’
I kept my expression neutral. I had to. Because if I let even a sliver of truth slip through, if I let my emotions get the better of me, I’d be stuck. Trapped in New York. And my girls—my newborn, fragile daughters—would be sucked into the middle of a mess I had spent months planning to avoid. I could not let that happen. Not now, not ever.
I had been so careful. I had saved up, worked extra shifts, and meticulously planned my escape to Chicago. It was supposed to be simple. Get through the birth, leave New York, and start fresh. Clean breaks all around.
A clean break did not include reentering Dom’s life.
Introduce newborns into the family that produced Leonardo Mortoli? Not happening. Not only would they have to deal with Leo’s drama, but his drama would be amplified by the fact that his new sisters were born to his ex-girlfriend. An ex-girlfriend who was too young to be with his father.
Messy. Too messy.
It would destroy the Mortoli family, tearing them apart from the inside. I couldn’t do that to Dom. And just as important, I wanted to do this on my own. My girls are mine, and I’m getting them out of here.
The silence stretched between us until it snapped under its own weight. I wanted to scream, Why are you still so goddamn handsome?
Instead, I forced myself to focus on what mattered. ‘Can I see them?’
Dom nodded. ‘Soon. The NICU team is making sure they’re stable, but they’ll either bring them soon, or a nurse will wheel you there to see them.’
I swallowed hard, emotion clogging my throat. I wanted to hold them. To see them. My body demanded to hold my babies. I felt incomplete without them. But knowing they were okay, that they had made it through, had to be enough for now.
Dom exhaled, running a hand over his face. ‘You scared the hell out of me, Ella.’
Something in my chest twisted, but I kept my expression carefully composed. ‘I didn’t exactly plan this,’ I muttered, trying for some semblance of levity.
He didn’t smile. Instead, he studied me, those dark eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite name. ‘What happened?’
The question was innocent enough. But my gut clenched because there was too much I couldn’t say. I opted for the easiest version of the truth. ‘I was at work. My water broke suddenly, then there was…blood. I don’t remember much after that.’
Dom’s jaw tightened. I could see his medical brain turning, analyzing, assessing. Something flickered across his expression, but he didn’t press. He didn’t ask why I hadn’t told him I was pregnant. He didn’t ask who the father was. He merely nodded.
And that was good. That was perfect. Because as long as he didn’t ask, I didn’t have to lie. I needed to get out of here. Not immediately—I wasn’t physically capable of that yet—but soon.
But then, he shifted slightly in his chair, and my eyes betrayed me.
Even now, post-surgery and drowning in exhaustion, I noticed everything. The strength in his frame, how his scrubs hugged his shoulders and chest, the quiet storm in his gaze. The room shrank to just him. And me.
No. Don’t go there.
Still, it hit—the magnetic pull. The heat beneath the panic.
I blamed my hormones for the way my pulse jumped. For the way I felt drawn to him, even after everything that had happened today. Whatever this was, it wasn’t real. It was just biology. Chemicals and memories and exhaustion playing tricks on me. Nothing more. Nothing meaningful.
He was just my doctor.
Wait—no. Not just.
He hadn’t told me he was a doctor.
How the hell had he left that part out?
The pieces didn’t add up.
I thought back to Leo’s stories—Dom always buried in work, missing birthdays, obsessed with success at all costs. Was this it? The ER grind, the medical empire?
Was this why Leo hated him so much? Had Dom played me on that island? Lied to get me into bed, then vanished back to his double life?
My pulse raced as unease settled over me. I needed space from him. Answers too, but mostly space. Because the man sitting beside me wasn’t just a vacation fling anymore—he was a storm, threatening everything I’d built.
“So, you’re a medical company owner?”
He huffed a laugh. “You remember that after everything you’ve been through? Impressive.”
“Hard to forget when a man lies to you.”
His brows bunched. “I didn’t lie to you, Ella.” He stood up and slipped a business card from his wallet with Morbinski Incorporated on it. “See?”
“Yeah. I also saw your phony website. Pretty elaborate way to get laid, don’t you think?”
“Funny. If I remember right, I didn’t mention my company to you until after we’d had sex the first time, so I didn’t exactly need it to get laid, did I?”
He had a point. “Then, why even bring up your fake company after?”
“It’s a real company, Ella.”
“And you work grueling hours in the ER for funsies?”
He exhaled a frustrated breath. “It’s a long story. But I am the owner of Morbinski, and I work here. Why did you leave without saying a word the morning after?”
I closed my eyes and gently shook my head. “Can we not do this right now?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed. Are you feeling worse?”
“Just queasy, I think.”
“I’ll see about some Zofran. Be right back.” He left without another word.
I had no idea what Zofran was, but by the context, I guessed it was for an upset stomach. Now, all I needed was something for my pain and a doctor who didn’t make my hormones surge, and I’d be all set.
At least with him out of the room, I could breathe again. Weirdly, though, it felt like he took all the oxygen out of the room when he left.
