FORBIDDEN LOVE

6. MAYBE IT WAS A DREAM

When Stephanie slowly stirred awake, heavy drowsiness still clinging to her limbs, the first thing she became aware of—before her eyes even opened fully—was a subtle, familiar scent lingering in the air. It wasn’t the fragrance of her lavender pillow mist or the detergent on her sheets. It was deeper, warmer, and oddly comforting.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she inhaled again, and then it clicked: Dominic. She would know that scent anywhere, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise. There was something distinct about his cologne, something that had found a permanent space in her memory, no matter how far she tried to push it back.

Her senses didn't lie. He had been in the room—recently. The thought should have annoyed her, confused her even, but instead, it stirred something much softer inside her, something she has always known but refused to acknowledge.

As she sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes and brushing a few strands of hair away from her face, she tried to dismiss the idea that his presence could mean anything significant. She told herself it was probably Chris who sent him in to check on her, maybe to make sure she hadn't collapsed or something equally dramatic.

After all, it wasn’t like Dominic liked her—he barely tolerated her. He never missed a chance to make that clear with his cold stares and clipped responses. So why, of all people, would he come into her room while she slept? The question echoed in her mind as she looked around, but there was nothing out of place. No evidence of anyone having been there except for the soft trace of his scent still hanging in the air.

Almost unconsciously, her hand lifted to touch her forehead, and a strange warmth bloomed there. It was faint, fleeting, like a whisper of something gentle and impossibly intimate. Her fingers lingered on her skin as her eyes widened just slightly. Had she imagined it? That soft kiss she felt in the middle of her dream—was it a dream? Something deep inside her whispered that it wasn’t. But that couldn’t be right, could it? Why would Dominic, who treated her with such indifference it bordered on disdain, kiss her? It was absurd. She must still be halfway asleep, letting her mind wander to dangerous places it had no business going. Still, the feeling remained. It refused to be shaken off, no matter how much logic she threw at it.

She sighed and lay back against her pillows again, staring at the ceiling with a frown she couldn’t quite smooth out. Maybe she was going crazy from the wedding stress. That had to be it. She was exhausted, overworked, and probably starting to hallucinate things that she desperately wished were real but knew could never be.

The truth was, a part of her—no matter how deeply buried—had always longed for just a tiny sign from him. Something that would prove he saw her as more than Chris’s annoying little sister or the girl he had to tolerate during group hangouts. But that part of her had long accepted that Dominic Burton would never see her that way. Still, as she closed her eyes again, a ghost of a smile played on her lips, and her fingers absentmindedly touched her forehead once more. Maybe it was a dream… but maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t.

When Stephanie’s eyes fluttered open for the second time that day, she was greeted not by the silence of her room or the lingering warmth of a dream, but by the soft glow of her bedside lamp and the quiet presence of her fiancé sitting just beside her. Michael looked comfortable, one leg crossed over the other, his attention fully absorbed in his phone as though he had been scrolling endlessly, waiting for her to wake. The moment her gaze landed on him, as if sensing it, he lifted his head, slid the phone into his jacket pocket, and leaned slightly forward with a warm smile. That familiar, charming grin that he always wore when looking at her—part affectionate, part relieved—brought an automatic smile to her lips in return. His hand came up slowly, fingers lightly brushing her cheek with a tenderness that made her eyes momentarily drift shut. It was a small gesture, but it carried the weight of someone who was genuinely happy to see her awake and well.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, his voice laced with quiet warmth as he looked into her eyes. His hand didn’t linger long against her face, just enough to reassure himself that she was real, awake, and still his. Stephanie blinked a few times, adjusting to the brightness in the room and the presence of someone she hadn’t expected to see just yet. She stretched slightly under the covers, her limbs still heavy from the nap, and gave him a curious look, eyebrows raising as a new wave of questions filled her mind. It wasn't that she didn’t appreciate his being there, but the protective wall around her personal space—especially with her brother and his watchful crew around—was notoriously difficult to breach.

“How long have you been sitting here?” she asked, her voice still laced with sleep as she propped herself up on one elbow. Her expression turned more suspicious than curious now. “Wait—how did you even get past my brother and his friends?” The disbelief in her tone was genuine because she knew Chris’s circle of friends like the back of her hand. Her brother, though he had somewhat accepted Michael, had made no effort to hide the fact that his friends absolutely couldn’t stand him. Whether it was because they saw him as too clean-cut, too privileged, or just not the kind of guy they'd ever trust with Stephanie’s heart, their disapproval was practically a sport. She could already picture Aron, Kyle, or Dom giving him death stares and sarcastic comments if he so much as tried to knock on the door, let alone walk right in and sit beside her while she slept. So how did he manage to make it in unscathed? That alone felt like a mystery worth solving.

Stephanie narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to read between the lines of his calm expression. If there had been an argument, or if he had to force his way in, she was sure she would’ve heard some commotion—even in her sleep. But the room had been quiet, peaceful even. Which made her even more confused. Had Chris given him a pass? Or had her brother been distracted enough to let his guard down? The idea was baffling. Michael didn’t look ruffled or annoyed, though—he looked content, like he'd walked in with a blessing instead of a battle. She couldn’t help but wonder what kind of deal had gone down outside her bedroom door for that to happen, because nothing about Chris’s friends suggested that they were the type to silently agree on anything involving her fiancé.

Mike chuckled quietly, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly with amusement as he reached out again to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind Stephanie’s ear. His hand lingered for just a second longer than necessary, as if the softness of her skin gave him a moment of quiet he didn’t want to let go of. “You’re making it sound like your brother and his crew are devil incarnates,” he said with a playful tone, his eyes still warm, though there was a glint of understanding beneath the tease. He knew all too well the complicated dynamics that came with being Chris Johnson’s almost-brother-in-law. Still, he always chose to take it lightly, preferring to find humor in the tension rather than adding to it. “Are you worried about me or your brother?” he added, arching a brow, the corner of his lips quirking up in a grin that was clearly meant to disarm her rising concern.

Stephanie rolled her eyes, though her heart warmed a little at how comfortable he still tried to be about it all. She sat up slightly, supporting her weight with a pillow behind her back, and gave him a pointed look. “I don’t have a reason to worry about my brother,” she said, her voice laced with a mix of sarcasm and sincerity. “He has his friends around him, and they’d never let anything happen to him. You, on the other hand, walked in here all alone. What if they decided to beat the hell out of you just for breathing the same air as me? You don’t know how petty they can get. My brother might manage to be somewhat civil if he’s in a good mood, but those other guys? I can’t make the same promise for them.” The thought made her stomach twist a little, not because she believed her friends would actually get physical, but because she understood how intense their loyalty could be—and how quickly it could turn into something dramatic.

Mike just shook his head, still smiling in that calm, easygoing way that somehow made her feel both comforted and mildly frustrated. “You don’t have to worry about me at all,” he said softly, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know they don’t like me—believe me, I’ve picked up on that from the moment we met. But it’s okay. Honestly, I get it. They see you as their little sister, and they feel protective. If they actually liked me, that would be weird, don’t you think?” He let out a small laugh, like it was the most obvious truth in the world, and for a second, it made Stephanie want to believe that maybe things weren’t as bad as she imagined. Maybe he was right. Maybe their disapproval wasn’t personal—it was just a messed-up form of love.

But she wasn’t convinced. “This is not something you should be joking about!” she snapped, though there was no real heat in her voice, only worry that wouldn’t seem to go away. She stared at him hard, as if daring him to laugh again. “My brother and his friends aren’t as ordinary as you might think. You keep underestimating them and one day, you might find yourself on the wrong side of that door with a bloody nose and no one to back you up.” She folded her arms, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from showing how truly concerned she was, because the last thing she wanted was to admit that a part of her still feared a complete fallout between the two most important men in her life.

Mike nodded slowly, clearly trying to respect her worry now even though amusement still tugged at his lips. “Okay, okay. I hear you,” he said gently. “But really, don’t stress. They had already left by the time I got here. It was just Beth still around, and I told her I’d take care of you, so she left without any drama. No gatekeeping, no interrogation, just a quick exchange and poof—she was gone.” He shrugged, trying to make it seem like it was no big deal, but Stephanie wasn’t sure if that was the full truth or just his version of keeping her calm. Either way, it worked—for now.

Stephanie didn’t argue with him this time. There were moments when she felt like pushing back, when she wanted to question every little thing he said or did, especially when she felt like she was spiraling under pressure, but tonight wasn’t one of those nights. There was something about the quiet in the room, the way the soft evening light spilled in through the window, casting muted shadows on the walls, that made her feel more at peace than she had in days. When he motioned for her to lie down again and gently patted his chest as an invitation, she didn’t hesitate. She shifted on the bed, curling slightly toward him, and rested her head against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. It wasn’t about habit or duty or trying to convince herself of anything—she just wanted the warmth, the closeness, the familiarity of someone she didn’t have to pretend around.

There was a stillness in that moment that she didn’t want to break. His heartbeat was a soft rhythm under her cheek, steady and calming, grounding her in a way that made all the chaos of the day feel distant. She wasn’t thinking about wedding checklists or color palettes or guest lists anymore. She wasn’t thinking about Chris’s disapproving eyes. All she could focus on was the rise and fall of Mike’s chest beneath her, the subtle way his fingers moved up and down her arm in slow, comforting circles, and the rare feeling of safety it gave her. For once, being in someone’s arms didn’t feel like a performance or a compromise—it just felt like rest. And for Stephanie, who had been pushing herself beyond her limits for weeks now, that was the greatest relief of all.