His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.-Chapter 635 Dom’s Talents

"You don’t have to tell me," Dominique said quietly.

"I know." Hazel took a breath. "Before the accident. Before I started hiding. I wanted to see the northern lights. Always thought they’d be beautiful."

Dom was quiet for a moment. Then, softly: "We could go."

She looked up. "What?"

"The northern lights. We could go. See them together." He shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal, but his voice was gentle. "I’ve never seen them either."

She stared at him. His face was open, no pressure, no expectation. Just an offer.

"Maybe," she said finally.

His smile was small, but real. "Maybe," he agreed.

They sat in silence for a while.

"Your turn," Dom said eventually. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"My turn what?"

"Ask me something. Anything."

Hazel thought for a long moment. Two minutes passed. Maybe three. She watched the fairy lights sway above them, listened to the distant city hum, and finally turned to him.

"Do you love modeling? Is that why you do it?" she asked curiously.

Dom was quiet for a moment. His eyes went distant, like he was looking at something far away, something she couldn’t see.

"Well..." He looked down at his hands, studying his own fingers like they held answers. "I had to learn how to walk. How to eat. How to talk. How to stand. How to sit. How to enter a room. How to leave one. All of it. Since I was very young."

Hazel’s brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

He didn’t answer right away. His thumb traced the edge of his sleeve, back and forth, back and forth. He was thinking deeply, his usual playful energy gone, and he looked a bit more careful.

"I mean, modeling wasn’t really a choice. It was training." He picked at a loose thread on his sleeve, still not looking at her. "Posture. Grooming. The right way to hold a fork. Which fork to use. The right way to greet people. Which smile to use for which occasion. How to laugh without being too loud. How to listen without appearing too interested."

Hazel watched his profile in the dim light. The fairy lights caught the sharp line of his jaw, the slight tension in his shoulders. She’d never seen him like this, looking so tense.

She asked carefully, "Were you from some prominent family?"

He glanced at her, a small, almost sad smile on his lips. "Yes. Something like that."

He didn’t say more. Didn’t offer names or details. Hazel understood. Some things weren’t for sharing. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

"What else?" she asked instead, steering gently away. "You seem to have so many talents. Modeling. Skating. Etiquette. What else can you do?"

Dom’s face relaxed, grateful for the shift. He leaned back on the bench, looking up at the fairy lights. A slow smile spread across his face as he thought.

"Let’s see..." He started counting on his fingers. "Piano. I had lessons for eight years. Hated every minute of it, but I can play. Chopin, Beethoven, the whole serious repertoire. Also some jazz, but don’t tell my teacher."

She raised an eyebrow. "Piano."

"Mm. Also violin. That one I actually liked. The sound just... I don’t know. It felt like something I could disappear into." He paused, thinking. "Ballroom dancing. Waltz, tango, foxtrot, the whole thing. Could probably still lead if you gave me a partner." He winked. "I speak four languages. French, Italian, Japanese, and enough German to order food and apologize for my bad German."

"Four languages?"

"Five if you count the three years of Latin that I’ve completely forgotten except for a few phrases that make me sound pretentious at dinner parties." He grinned. "I can also cook. Like, actually cook, not just heat things up. Learned from my grandmother. She said a man should be able to feed himself and anyone he wants to impress."

Hazel smiled. "And can you?"

"Impress people? Obviously."

She laughed softly. "No, cook."

"Absolutely. My pasta is legendary. My risotto is acceptable. My bread—" He kissed his fingers. "Don’t tell my mother, but it’s better than hers."

"Your mother doesn’t know?"

"She’d disown me." He grinned, then his eyes lit up with another thought. "Oh! I can sew. Buttons, hems, fixing torn seams. Learned from watching the seamstresses at—" He stopped.

She didn’t push.

He kept going, warming to the subject. "I know calligraphy. My handwriting is terrible now, but I can make it beautiful if I try. I can ride horses. English and Western. Used to compete when I was younger." He paused, thinking. "I know how to fold a napkin into a swan. Or a fan. Or a rose. My grandmother insisted it was an essential skill."

Hazel stared at him, amazed. "That’s... a lot."

He shrugged, but his cheeks were slightly pink. "I had a lot of lessons."

"How do you remember all of it?"

"I don’t know." He looked up at the lights again, thoughtful. "Some of it I use. Some of it I hated so much I couldn’t forget it. Some of it..." He paused. "Some of it felt like the only thing I was good at. So I held onto it."

She watched him for a long moment. The way his fingers drummed lightly on his knee. The way his eyes went soft when he talked about his grandmother. The way he shrugged off his own words like they didn’t matter.

"You’re amazing," she said quietly.

He blinked, looking at her. "What?"

His heart was pounding. She was looking at him with such intensity, such focus, like he was the only person in the world. Her hand was moving, reaching toward his face, and his mind went into overdrive.

If she kisses me, I’ll let her, he thought, barely breathing. Maybe all those years of learning multiple skills are finally paying off. She’s so impressed she can’t resist. She thinks I’d be the perfect husband. Maybe I should start thinking about wed—

His thoughts scattered.

Because Hazel wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were fixed somewhere past his shoulder, her focus razor-sharp, her body tense. Every muscle in her frame had gone rigid, coiled like a spring.

A red laser dot flickered on his head multiple times.

Her hand caught his face firmly. She pulled him close, and for one dizzy second he thought she was going to kiss him. Her fingers pressed into his jaw, her face inches from his, her breath warm against his skin.

Instead, her lips brushed his ear.

"Dom," she breathed, so low he almost didn’t hear. "Someone is watching us. Don’t be scared. I’ll handle everything."

His face went blank.

Before he could process, she shoved him hard. His back hit the ground, gravel digging into his palms, the world spinning...