LENA

“You can still change your mind.”

Dominic’s voice was quiet as the elevator climbed toward the top floor. His hand stayed in mine, warm and steady, thumb brushing over my knuckles like he was giving me an exit ramp at every second.

I looked up at him. The club lights were gone. Up close he was even more solid—broad chest, the kind of arms that looked like they could hold someone together or pin them down, whichever was needed. But his eyes were careful.

“I don’t want to change my mind,” I said. “I just… don’t know how to do this without feeling like I’m still that girl standing...