An Understated Dominance Novel (Dahlia & Dustin) by Marina Vittori updated 2025-26 - An Understated Dominance Chapter 2721

Chapter 2721 

“President Nicholson, you’re back?” Natasha looked up, her smile bright and effortless. “We’re almost done eating. This place is great—thank you for recommending it.”

Her words clearly placed herself and Dustin on one side… and Dahlia as the “host” on the outside.

Dahlia forced a polite smile. “I’m glad you liked it.”

One glance at Dustin—and Natasha’s watchful stare—was enough for Dahlia to abandon any hope of speaking to him alone. The last spark of intention disappeared from her eyes.

“I have a meeting this afternoon, so I’ll head out first,” she said, picking up her handbag. “I’ve already taken care of the bill.”

“Oh gosh, how could I let you spend money like that?” Natasha replied, though her expression showed absolutely no embarrassment.

“It’s just a meal. No need to be polite.” Dahlia’s gaze lingered on Dustin, complicated and heavy. In the end, she simply said, “Dustin, take care.”

Dustin nodded, expression unchanged. “You too.”

No extra words. No apology. No attempt at resolution.

Dahlia looked at the two of them one last time, as if imprinting the scene deep into herself, then turned around. Back straight, steps steady, she walked away from the place that had stirred up so much pain.

The moment she disappeared, Natasha finally let out a long, satisfied breath—like a soldier who had won a hard-fought battle.

“She’s finally gone…” Natasha leaned against Dustin’s shoulder, sounding both relieved and playfully dramatic. “Having dinner with your ex-wife was so stressful.”

Dustin wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving a gentle pat. He didn’t reply. His gaze drifted toward the direction Dahlia had left, his heart completely at peace.

The past was like smoke—long gone. The only warmth he cared about was in his arms now.

Meanwhile, Dahlia slid into her luxury car and shut her eyes, feeling a bone-deep weariness. She understood: some relationships, once missed, never return.

Some people, once let go, can never be reclaimed.

Today’s chance encounter wasn’t fate—it was a verdict on her past choices.

But the hurt and bitterness inside her… those would take a long time to fade.

As night settled in, the neon lights of the city glimmered like a flowing galaxy.

After their meal, Dustin and Natasha ended their date, and Natasha drove her red sports car toward home. Soft music played through the speakers. Natasha was still riding the high of her earlier “victory,” while Dustin leaned back, eyes closed, feeling the growing weight of his mortal limitations.

But the peaceful drive didn’t last long.

“Screech—!”

“Bang!”

The shriek of brakes and the violent crash hit almost simultaneously.

Seven or eight black minivans suddenly emerged from all directions, boxing them in like predators, forcing Natasha to slam on the brakes.

One of the vans cut sharply in front of them, crashing grill-to-grill with her sports car.

Natasha jerked forward from the impact, saved only by the seatbelt. The shock quickly turned into anger and disbelief.

A loud metallic clang echoed through the air.

In front of the car stood Mateo—face still bandaged, one arm in a cast—swinging a metal baseball bat with his good hand. He smashed it down hard on the hood, leaving a deep dent.

His face twisted with fury, eyes wild with vengeance as he roared, “You two bastards! Get out here!”

At the same time, doors of the other vans slammed open. Dozens of burly men swarmed out, armed with steel pipes, machetes, clubs—surrounding the car completely, murder in their eyes.

At the back, a Rolls-Royce door opened. A young man in a suit stepped out, his presence cold and imposing. He leaned lazily against the hood and lit a cigar.

It was Mateo’s older brother, Hayes.

He watched the trapped sports car with a cruel smile, as if anticipating a good show.

To provoke the Spanner family, and even cripple Mateo so heavily—they really had no idea who they were dealing with.

Inside the car, Natasha’s face drained of color. She instinctively turned to Dustin.

Dustin’s gaze sharpened instantly as he assessed the scene.

Seven or eight vans. Dozens of armed men.

With his current mortal body, he could handle a dozen attackers using experience alone… but this many was impossible. A direct fight would be suicidal.

“Call the police,” Dustin said immediately, voice steady and firm. “And call your grandfather—tell him to send help now.”

Natasha jolted into action. She dialed the police at once and reported their location and the fact they were surrounded. Then she sent an encrypted SOS message to her grandfather.

Outside, Mateo grew even more arrogant when he saw they still hadn’t stepped out of the car.

He continued hammering the hood, shouting furiously, spit flying with every word.

“Dustin! Weren’t you so arrogant before?! Weren’t you good at fighting?! Try acting tough now! If I don’t beat the crap out of you today, I’ll change my surname!”

His voice echoed through the night, filled with rage and madness.