Dominic has spent his entire Saturday morning pacing the marbled floors of his penthouse apartment. The city skyline spread like luxury painting behind his glass walls. The man who owned empires, signed multi_million dollar contracts with the flick of a pen and turned the world's beautiful women without blinking was now haunted by a woman who hadn't even tried to win his attention.
Kirah".
He hated how cold he'd become.
But he hated more that he didn't know how to stop it.
Since the party, since that night—the night that shattered more boundaries than he'd planned to cross—Dominic had been hard on Kirah. Too hard. Distant. Detached. Cruel, even. And he knew it.
Only if she knew how much he wanted her.
Only if she could feel the war raging inside him every time she walked past him in the office. Only if she knew that beneath his silence, beneath the indifferent nods and dry replies, he was burning.
She hadn't looked at him either, not since that day. And that, too, killed him. Because Kirah had fire in her. She was brilliant, poised, and far more aware than she let on. He saw her brilliance as she moved through the floor—her efficiency, her intelligence. She was built for greatness. And he was ruining it with silence.
He remembered how her heel cracked in the elevator yesterday. It had been his fault. He brushed past her and didn't stop. A cold apology. And yet it haunted him all night. He remembered the look in her eyes. Humiliated. Dismissed. Distant.
He rubbed his temple, guilt crawling up his spine.
The weekend was approaching, and he had no real plans—no parties, no events. Just the usual rounds he made through his father's old companies, overseeing operations, reviewing projects, supervising managers who now feared disappointing him more than disappointing the board.
But today, he had something else on his mind. Something different. Something personal.
He picked up his phone and sent a quick message to his driver, instructing him to prepare the car. Then he stood and buttoned his coat, grabbed his wallet, and walked out of the office.
He was going to the luxury mall. He had a purchase to make. Or rather, a gift.
Not out of pity. But out of longing. Guilt. Maybe love? He didn't know. All he knew was that Kirah deserved better than a broken heel and his broken behavior.
*At Naya's apartment**
Kirah woke to the sound of giggling.
It was soft at first, then a moan. A low groan. Then unmistakable whispers of pleasure.
"Oh, for crying out loud," she muttered, dragging a pillow over her head.
She had hoped to get up early, leave quietly, and head home before the house turned into a love nest. But clearly, Naya and her man had beat her to the morning.
She rolled off the bed with a sigh and tiptoed toward the bathroom. Her hair was a mess, and her mind even messier. Yesterday had drained her. The office tension. Dominic's aloofness. His mother's condescending glance. And the ridiculous hatred from her colleagues in the halls of Vierra Holdings torments her like invisible poison.
Kirah turned the tap and stared into the mirror.
She barely recognized the girl in the reflection.
"You gave your virginity to a man who won't even look at you now," she whispered. "And now you're waking up to moaning roommates in a guest room. Great."
The water was warm. The steam wrapped around her body as she stepped under the shower and let her thoughts wash down the drain. She needed a plan.
Her family would be relocating soon. The paperwork was almost finalized. A three-bedroom apartment, closer to the city, better plumbing, better neighborhood. She had made it happen. Her mother had cried on the phone when Kirah showed her pictures of the place.
"This is all you, my child," her mom had said. "All you."
That, more than anything, kept her going.
And now, she needed to consider herself too.
Maybe another apartment. Something close enough to work, with enough privacy. Naya deserved her space. And frankly, so did Kirah.
She stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, passing the living room where Naya now sat, half-dressed and flushed. Her boyfriend was in the kitchen humming, bare-chested, making tea like he hadn't just turned the house into an x-rated studio.
"Morning, lover girl," Naya teased.
Kirah rolled her eyes. "Morning, naughty girl."
They both laughed.
"You going home?"
"Yeah. Need to prepare for today. Lots of errands. It'll be a busy weekend."
Naya nodded. "You okay, though?"
Kirah paused, then forced a smile. "I'm getting there."
She dressed quickly and left without saying much else. Her mind was already racing with all she had to do. Groceries. A quick stop at the real estate office. Bank transfer to finalize her family's move. Maybe check out a few listings for herself. Anything to stay distracted.
Anything to not think about Dominic.
But even as she stepped into the street and flagged down a taxi, her thoughts betrayed her. Her heart ached. Not because he didn't love her—she had known better than to expect that.
But because he had made her feel like she didn't matter.
That, she couldn't forgive.
Dominic walked through the luxury mall like a man with purpose. He passed rows of high-end boutiques until he found what he was looking for: Valterra, a store known for its handcrafted designer shoes.
"Good morning, sir," the manager greeted, instantly recognizing him. "Looking for anything in particular?"
Dominic didn't flinch. "Women's heels. Size 39. Classy, elegant. Not too tall. Something that says she's powerful but doesn't need to scream it."
The manager blinked, impressed.
"We have just the collection."
Minutes later, Dominic stood before a glass display lined with leather, suede, and velvet shoes of all shades. He pointed to three pairs. A nude stiletto with a sleek curve, a black low-heeled patent pump, and a burgundy velvet heel with golden accents.
"Pack all three. Gift wrap."
"Certainly, Mr. Dominic. Shall we include a card?"
Dominic hesitated.
Then nodded. "Keep it simple. No name. Just: 'For the girl who never needed fixing.'"
As he left the store, a weight lifted off his chest.
He didn't know if it would make a difference.
But it was a start.
A start toward something more than silence. At least his coming week should be more fun and life and "Kirah ,my Kirah...