Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
ROSALIA
I pace back and forth across the plush carpet, the steady, rhythmic thud of steps doing nothing to quiet the wild pounding of my heart. I walk the full length of the massive bedroom, my eyes darting from the heavy dark furniture to the reinforced glass of the balcony doors.
I don't know when the wedding will take place, but judging by how things operate in our world, time is never on a woman's side.
Marriages like this aren't planned over months with flowers and invitations; they are executed like military coups. It will be soon. A week at most, if I’m lucky.
Which is exactly why I have to be smart. I cannot afford to be naive again.
I reach into my pocket, tap the screen of my phone, and open the note file I’ve been meticulously editing for hours. I go through my compiled list one more time, line by line, checking every word, every boundary, every demand.
One: Separate bedrooms.
Two: Full autonomy over my personal schedule and movements.
Three: No interference in my personal affairs or past.
Four: No sex or physical intimacy.
I mark off the rest of the list with my fingers, careful to make sure I’m not forgetting anything. I won't go into another marriage defenseless. I made that mistake with Luciano, walking blindly into a cage and letting a man strip away my voice piece by piece, until there was nothing left of me.
I survived ten years of Luciano’s cold, cruel control. I am not about to hand the reins of my life over to Dominic Kane just because he wears a better suit and carries a bigger gun.
I won't.
I stare at the screen, letting out a slow, steadying breath. Everything here is reasonable. It's fair, clear, and pragmatic. He wants a strategic alliance to cement his power, and I want my dignity and freedom intact. He must agree to these terms before I ever sign my name next to his.
I start pacing again, my phone clutched so tightly in my hand that my knuckles turn white.
Suddenly, the heavy click of the suite's front door echoes down the hall. My heart jumps into my throat. I scramble back toward the bed, sitting down quickly and smoothing my skirt, forcing my shoulders back to appear calm, composed, and unbothered.
A second later, the bedroom door swings open and Dominic walks in.
His dark eyes immediately lock onto mine, analyzing me for a long, quiet moment. He doesn't say a word. He simply turns and walks into the adjoining bathroom, leaving the door half-open.
Soon, the sharp sound of running water fills the silence. My body heats up, a sudden spike of nervous awareness flushing through my skin. I can't do this. I need my own room—if only for my own sanity and peace of mind.
A few minutes later, Dominic walks back into the bedroom, completely changed. Gone is the shirt and jacket. Instead, he wears a simple pair of dark gray sweatpants and a black fitted t-shirt that clings to his broad chest and heavy shoulders.
I swallow hard, clearing my throat before my courage fails me.
"Can you please sit down?" I ask, my voice surprisingly steady. "We need to talk."
Dominic stops in his tracks, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at me. "About what?"
"I have some terms concerning the marriage," I state firmly, lifting my chin. "And we have to discuss them before I agree to marry you."
A low, dark chuckle escapes his throat, deep and infuriating. My face instantly heats up with burning embarrassment, but I refuse to shrink under his gaze.
To my surprise, he actually leans back and drops down into the leather armchair directly opposite the bed. He stretches his long legs out, resting his forearms on his knees, his dark eyes glittering with wicked amusement.
"Alright," he murmurs, his voice smooth and dangerously low. "Let’s hear your terms, sweetheart."
I unlock my phone, clear my throat, and sit up straight, focusing on the screen to hide the slight tremor in my hands.
"One: Separate bedrooms," I begin, reading each point clearly and firmly.
"Two: Full autonomy over my personal schedule and movements.
Three: No interference in my personal affairs or questions about my past. Four: No sex or physical intimacy in private.
Five: Public affection only when absolutely necessary. "
When I reach the end, I lower the phone and look up, expecting resistance, irritation, or at least a negotiation.
Instead, Dominic throws his head back and laughs—a rich, loud, booming sound that fills the entire bedroom and bounces off the walls.
I instantly glare at him, my cheeks burning hot with a mixture of fury and embarrassment. "I'm being completely serious, Dominic! There's nothing funny about this! Are my terms unreasonable?" I demand, my chest heaving as I glare at him across the space separating us.
Dominic's laughter slowly dies down to a dark, amused grin, though his eyes remain sharp as steel. "Sweetheart, we're about to get married. Of course, your terms are unreasonable. What married couple do you know has separate bedrooms and lives without intimacy?"
My heart pounds against my ribs, wild and frantic, but I force myself to hold his gaze. "We are not a normal couple, Dominic, and you know it! So, there's no need to sit there and pretend otherwise."
Another quiet chuckle escapes him, infuriatingly unbothered by my outburst.
"You're going to have to compromise on some of my terms," I insist, leaning forward slightly, tapping my phone screen with a rigid finger. "I'm part of this marriage, too. I get a say."
Dominic watches me for a long, heavy moment. The trace of amusement slowly fades from his face, replaced by a cold, calculating intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat. He leans back against the sofa, steepling his fingers under his chin.
"Alright," he says smoothly. "Let's run it back."
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, pinning me with a gaze that leaves zero room for argument.
"I will not be agreeing to a separate bedroom, Rosalia," he says, his voice dropping into a hard, uncompromising register. "The sooner you come to terms with that, the better."
It takes everything in me not to cuss him out right then and there. I clench my jaw, squeeze my hands into fists against my thighs, and stay dead silent.
"Concerning full autonomy over your personal schedule and movement—sure," Dominic continues, his tone smooth and composed. "Believe it or not, I’m not interested in marrying a zombie. You have the right to do whatever you want and go where you please."
I blink, caught entirely off guard. I search his face, looking for a catch or a hidden taunt, but I see only steady, unfiltered honesty in his dark eyes. My racing heart calms just a fraction. Is he actually being serious? He looks entirely serious.
I was certain he would have the most problem with this particular item on my list. Men in our world never allow their women freedom.
They lock them away in polished estates, treating them like delicate porcelain or gilded trophies.
Even my own father denies me my basic freedom, dictating every move I make.
"However," Dominic speaks up, leaning in slightly, his sharp eyes holding mine captive.
"When I tell you to be somewhere or need you to do something, I’m going to need you to cooperate and be understanding.
Okay? You understand this world, Rosalia.
You know security is paramount at all times. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I answer breathlessly, the word slipping out before I can even process the weight of it. He’s already giving me much more freedom than anyone else in my life ever has.
"Okay," he says, inclining his head subtly. "Your third term. No interference in your personal affairs or your past. What are you hiding, sweetheart?"
I swallow, pushing down the sudden lump in my throat and forcing my chin up. "Nothing. You can believe the rumors that I killed Luciano for all I care."
He chuckles, a dark, rich sound that sends a strange ripple down my spine.
"Should I take your word for it, then?” He asks. “And trust that you didn’t murder your husband in his sleep? Not like I would blame you if you did—he was a terrible bastard."
"I’d believe it if I were you," I retort smoothly, leaning in just a fraction. "And that’s exactly why you should give me a separate bedroom. You never know when I’ll turn around and stab you in your sleep."
Dominic throws his head back and laughs—a booming, full-bodied sound that echoes around the quiet master suite.
My brows furrow as I stare at him. What on earth is so funny? I know for a fact he’s heard the rumors, and the evidence stacked against me for Luciano's death is pretty damn incriminating. Anyone in his position should have at least an iota of fear or doubt about bringing me into his bed.
He wipes a tear of amusement from the corner of his eye, his dark, sharp gaze settling back on me with terrifying confidence.
"I’ll take my chances, sweetheart."
"Whatever. Just don’t ask me questions about my past or personal affairs. We don’t have that kind of marriage."
He ponders that for a moment, his eyes scanning my face, before giving a casual shrug. "Okay."
I fight to hide my relief, swallowing down the sudden lump in my throat.
This is actually going well. At least I won’t have to worry about him dragging up memories of my time with Luciano or digging into things he has no business knowing.
That entire chapter of my life is a grave I intend to leave sealed forever.
"My fourth term?" I probe.
He cocks his head, his dark brows drawing together. "What? No sex or physical intimacy?"
"Yes."
He gives a brief, quiet nod. "I agree."
There’s no amusement or teasing left in his gaze now. No lingering smirks. Just absolute, immovable seriousness.
"We won’t have sex," I clarify, saying the words explicitly just in case he misunderstood the boundary. "No kissing. Nothing."
"We won’t do anything you don’t want to do, Rosalia," he says, a subtle crease forming between his brows. "What kind of man do you think I am? I’m not going to force you."