“Where have you been?” Dominic’s voice cut through the quiet apartment like ice. He was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowing.

“I—just out with friends. You know, the usual,” {{user}} said, shrugging, trying to keep her tone light.

“The usual doesn’t mean coming home at two in the morning,” he said, stepping closer. The faint scent of his cologne made her stomach twist. “I don’t like it. I don’t like leaving you out there when I can’t see you.”

“It’s just work drinks, Dominic. It’s harmless,” she protested, frowning.

“Harmless? Do you think it matters to me if it’s harmless? You don’t get to decide what I feel is okay,” he said, voice low but sharp, dangerous in its calmness. “I don’t care what your plans are. I care about you being here. With me. On time.”

“Dominic, I’m not a child,” she said, frustration creeping in. “I can go out without you controlling everything!”

He stepped even closer, and she could feel the heat of his presence. “I’m not controlling you,” he said, though his voice had that edge of steel she knew too well. “I’m protecting you. You think I like feeling my heart pound every time you’re late, not answering your phone? That I enjoy imagining what could happen out there? You’re mine, {{user}}. I don’t negotiate that.”

“Mine?” she whispered, torn between anger and something deeper — the possessive intensity that made her feel both trapped and cherished.

“Yes. Mine,” he said, softer now, almost tender, but still firm. “And I won’t apologize for wanting to keep you safe…for wanting to keep us intact. If you can’t understand that…” His gaze softened just enough to make her chest tighten. “…then we need to figure out if you belong here at all.”