Updated Feb 23, 2026 • ~9 min read
POV: Dominic
Three weeks of fake dating is driving Dominic slowly insane.
They’ve attended four public events together.
Gallery opening where Dominic kept his hand on Valencia’s lower back all evening.
Charity luncheon where they sat beside each other, Valencia charming his business associates effortlessly.
Theatre premiere where they held hands in the dark, Dominic hyper-aware of her thumb tracing circles on his palm.
Dinner party at Ethan’s where they played the couple so convincingly even Ethan—who KNOWS it’s fake—pulled Dominic aside and said “are you sure this is still pretend?”
To the outside world, they’re the perfect couple.
Dominic St. Clair and his girlfriend Valencia Rivera.
The billionaire and the nanny-turned-consultant.
Unconventional but undeniably together.
Society’s gotten used to seeing them.
The gossip has shifted from “scandal” to “how sweet.”
His mother has stopped actively interfering—still disapproves, but can’t fight what’s publicly established.
The plan is working perfectly.
Except Dominic’s falling apart.
Because every public appearance makes him want the real thing more desperately.
Every time he introduces Valencia as his girlfriend, he wants it to be true.
Every time he holds her hand or touches her back or stands beside her at events, he’s not pretending.
He’s just being himself with the woman he loves.
But the rules are clear: Public only.
At home, they maintain boundaries.
Valencia’s careful about it.
After events, she immediately creates distance—changes out of her gown, removes makeup, becomes “Valencia the nanny” instead of “Valencia the girlfriend.”
Dominic understands why.
She’s protecting herself.
Protecting them both from getting too deep into something that might still be fake.
But it’s not fake for him.
Hasn’t been fake since the moment he proposed this plan.
Maybe never was fake at all.
Tonight they’re returning from another charity event—cancer research fundraiser, black tie, Dominic’s hand in Valencia’s the entire evening.
She was radiant.
Wore deep blue that made her skin glow.
Laughed at donor jokes, discussed Jules’s development with genuine passion when people asked, stood beside Dominic like she belonged there.
Because she DOES belong there.
Beside him.
Always.
In the car heading home, Valencia’s quiet.
“You okay?” Dominic asks.
“Yeah. Just tired. These events are exhausting.”
“You were perfect tonight. Charming, poised, exactly right.”
“I’m getting better at playing the role.”
Playing the role.
Like it’s acting.
Like she’s not being herself.
“Valencia—”
“Mrs. Chen texted. Jules had a good evening. Went to bed on time, asked about us.”
Deflection.
She’s good at that too.
They arrive home, check on Jules (asleep, peaceful), thank Mrs. Chen, watch her leave.
Then it’s just them.
Alone in the dimly lit penthouse.
Still in their formal wear.
Still playing couple.
Except they’re not in public anymore.
The rules say they should separate now.
Create distance.
Return to professional boundaries.
But Dominic’s tired of rules.
“Want a drink?” he asks.
Valencia hesitates. “I should probably—”
“One drink. We’ve been doing these events for three weeks and we’ve never actually talked about how it’s going. How you’re feeling. If the plan is working for you.”
Valencia relents. “Okay. One drink.”
Dominic pours wine—expensive red she’s developed a taste for—and they sit on the couch.
Close but not touching.
Careful distance even now.
“So,” Dominic says. “Honest assessment. How’s the fake dating working for you?”
“It’s working. Society’s accepted us. Your mother’s backed off. The gossip has died down. Mission accomplished.”
“That’s the practical assessment. What about the personal one?”
Valencia’s quiet, swirling wine in her glass.
“It’s complicated,” she finally says.
“How?”
“Because it’s getting hard to remember what’s fake and what’s real. When we’re at events and you introduce me as your girlfriend, part of me forgets we’re pretending. When you hold my hand or defend me or look at me like—” She stops.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m actually yours. Like this is real. And I have to remind myself it’s not.”
“What if it is real?”
Valencia looks at him sharply. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t blur the lines. We have rules for a reason. Public appearances only. No real intimacy. Protection for both of us.”
“What if I don’t want protection anymore? What if I want real?”
“Dominic—”
He sets down his wine, turns to face her fully. “I’m not pretending, Valencia. I haven’t been pretending at any of these events. When I introduce you as my girlfriend, I mean it. When I hold your hand, I want to. When I look at you, I’m looking at the woman I love. None of it’s fake for me.”
Valencia’s breathing quickens. “We agreed—”
“I know what we agreed. And I’m saying I don’t want fake anymore. I want real. I want you. Not just at public events. Always.”
He’s close now.
Close enough to see the gold flecks in her brown eyes.
Close enough to smell her perfume—something floral she wears for events.
Close enough to kiss her if he just leaned forward slightly.
Valencia’s looking at him like she wants the same thing.
Like she’s barely restraining herself.
“We have rules,” she whispers.
“Rules we made when we were trying to protect ourselves. But I don’t want protection from this. I want you.”
“Public only—”
“It’s not public only for me. It’s never been public only. I love you. Completely. In public and private. At events and at home. Always.”
Dominic cups her face with one hand.
Gentle.
Giving her space to pull away.
She doesn’t pull away.
She leans into his touch, eyes closing briefly.
“Dominic, we can’t—”
“Why not?”
“Because if this goes wrong, we lose everything. Jules loses me. I lose this job. We lose—us. Whatever this is.”
“What if it goes right?”
Valencia’s breath catches. “You keep asking that.”
“Because you keep assuming it’ll go wrong. What if it doesn’t? What if we try and it’s exactly what we both want? What if the fake becomes real and it’s perfect?”
“Nothing’s perfect—”
“This is.”
Dominic leans closer.
Can feel her breath on his lips.
Can see her pulse racing at her throat.
Can sense she wants this as much as he does.
“Dominic—”
“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me it’s still fake for you. Tell me you’re not feeling exactly what I’m feeling right now and I’ll back off.”
Valencia’s silent.
Looking at him with wide eyes, barely breathing, visibly torn.
Then: “I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’d be lying.”
The admission breaks something open between them.
Dominic closes the distance—
Valencia’s hand comes up, presses against his chest. “Wait.”
He freezes. “Valencia—”
“We have rules. Public only. No real intimacy. We agreed because we needed boundaries. Because this situation is complicated and dangerous and—” Her voice cracks. “Because I’m terrified.”
“Of what?”
“Of this. Of us. Of wanting you so much it scares me. Of the fact that this fake relationship has become the most real thing in my life. Of losing you if we try and fail.”
Dominic takes her hand from his chest, holds it. “I’m terrified too. But I’m more terrified of not trying. Of spending months or years pretending when we could have real. Of losing you because I was too scared to risk it.”
“We need to think about this—”
“I’ve thought about nothing else for three weeks.”
“We need to be smart—”
“I am being smart. This is the smartest thing I’ve ever done—falling in love with you.”
Valencia’s eyes fill with tears. “This is insane.”
“This is honest. I love you. I want real. And I think you want that too.”
“Wanting and doing—”
“Are the same thing if we choose them to be. Stop protecting yourself from something good. Stop assuming it’ll go wrong. Let yourself want this. Want me. Want us.”
Valencia’s crying now, silently, tears streaming down her face.
“I do want it,” she whispers. “God, I want it so much.”
“Then let’s try. For real. No more fake dating. No more public only. Real relationship. Us.”
“I’m scared—”
“I know. Me too. But we can be scared together.”
They’re so close now.
Dominic can see every tear, every emotion crossing her face.
Can feel the tension between them like a living thing.
Can sense they’re at a precipice—about to jump or pull back.
Valencia’s the one who decides.
She leans forward—
Then pulls back at the last second. “No. No, we can’t. Not like this. Not when we haven’t figured out the power dynamic, the employment situation, the complications. We can’t just—kiss and hope it works out.”
Dominic pulls back, giving her space. “Okay. Okay, you’re right. We should—we should think about this. Figure out the practical stuff first.”
“Yes. Practical. Smart. Not just—emotional.”
She stands abruptly, putting physical distance between them.
“I should go to bed. It’s late.”
“Valencia—”
“Goodnight, Dominic.”
She leaves.
Practically runs to her room.
Leaving Dominic alone on the couch with his wine and his frustration and the almost-kiss hanging between them.
She almost let him.
Almost gave in.
Almost chose real over fake.
But pulled back at the last second.
Because she’s scared.
Because the complications are real.
Because wanting something doesn’t make it simple.
Dominic sits there for a long time, thinking.
The fake dating plan is backfiring.
He thought controlling the public narrative would make the private relationship possible.
Instead it’s making everything more complicated.
Because now he’s pretending in public while wanting real in private.
And Valencia’s protecting herself by maintaining boundaries that feel increasingly arbitrary.
They’re playing couple at events.
Acting professional at home.
And the dissonance is killing him.
He wants real.
All the time.
Not just when there are witnesses.
But Valencia’s not ready.
Still scared.
Still protecting herself from potential hurt.
And Dominic doesn’t know how to convince her that the risk is worth it.
Doesn’t know how to make her feel safe enough to try.
Doesn’t know how to bridge the gap between fake and real when she keeps pulling away.
So he sits on the couch in his tuxedo, alone, thinking about the woman he loves sleeping three doors away.
Thinking about how close they came to kissing.
Thinking about how much he wants her.
Thinking about how fake dating the woman he loves is the sweetest torture he’s ever experienced.
Starting now.
Starting with the almost-kiss.
Starting with the realization that his plan might have worked too well—society thinks they’re together, but Valencia still thinks they’re pretending.
And Dominic has no idea how to make fake become real when the woman he loves is too scared to let it.
This is getting complicated.
More complicated than he anticipated.
And he has absolutely no idea how to fix it.
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