Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ROSALIA
Wait. Is he jealous?
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye as the car glides through the dark city streets. His jaw is locked, his shoulders are broad and rigid, and his gaze is fixed dead ahead like he’s ready to kill the next thing that moves.
The absolute rage in the way he hauled that man off the floor... the sheer intensity of his posture right now.
He is jealous!
I almost laugh out loud. The terrifying, ruthless Dominic Kane, losing his mind over a random drunk holding my wrist for two seconds. He’s so cute when he tries to pretend he’s completely unbothered.
"Were you jealous?" I ask softly, leaning back against the leather seat and tilting my head to study his tight profile.
Dominic doesn't even turn his head. His voice comes out flat, cold, and entirely unconvincing. "I don't get jealous, Rosalia. I enforce boundaries."
I purse my lips tightly together, fighting to swallow the amusement bubbling up in my chest to hide another laugh.
Sure you don't, Dominic.
When the car pulls up to the estate, he steps out, barely waiting for me before he marches up the front steps like a man on a mission. He storms right into the grand foyer, his heavy footsteps echoing up the curving staircase as he heads straight for our suite without looking back.
Helena is standing near the bottom of the stairs, adjusting a vase of fresh lilies. She watches his retreating, furious back, then glances over at me with an amused, knowing twinkle in her eye.
"Rough evening?" she asks softly.
"You could say that," I say, smothering a grin. Then I remember my little guest tucked away upstairs. "Actually, Helena... I have a dog up there. Is there anything we can feed him?"
Helena breaks into a warm laugh. "Keane already warned me about your new housemate. Don't worry, I'll have the kitchen staff prepare a proper meal for him."
"Thank you. I'll go bring him down so he can stretch his legs."
I head up the stairs and push open the bedroom door. Dominic is already in the middle of the room, tearing off his shirt with aggressive, irritated yanks, his back turned to me. His tight muscles flex under the low light, radiating sheer annoyance.
And right at his feet, completely unbothered by the dark mood of the room, Yapper is yapping furiously at his boots.
I almost laugh again. The sight of a dangerous mob boss being harassed by a tiny, barking puppy is almost too much to handle.
Before Dominic can scowl at either of us, I scoop Yapper up into my arms and head back downstairs.
Helena takes one look at the little bundle of fluff and is instantly, insanely smitten. She cradles him like royalty, cooing over his little paws and scruffy ears.
"I have to say, I'm completely surprised Dominic allowed this," Helena murmurs with a smile, scratching Yapper right behind his ears. "He's not usually one for... unexpected additions."
"He has his moments," I say with a small smile, kissing the top of Yapper's head before handing him off for dinner.
“Is there a vet around here?” I ask. “I’d like to take Yapper in just to make sure he’s healthy.”
“I’ll take care of that.”
“Thank you, Helena.”
I head back upstairs, feeling lighter than I have all night. When I walk into the bedroom, Dominic is standing by the mini-bar, pouring a generous splash of crystal-clear vodka into a heavy tumbler. The tension in his back could snap steel.
I choose to completely ignore him.
Without saying a word, I walk past his dark glare, grab my pajamas from the drawer, and head straight into the bathroom, closing the door behind me with a quiet click.
When I step out of the bathroom, freshly dressed in my pajamas with a towel drying my hair, Dominic hasn't moved an inch.
He stands in the center of the bedroom, his bare chest broad and shadowed under the dim lamps. His arms are tightly folded across his chest, and his eyes tracking my every step like a predator waiting in the dark.
"You don't need to hide in the bathroom, Rosalia," he says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates through the quiet room. “I’m sick of it.”
I stop near the edge of the bed, draping the towel over my shoulders. "I'm not hiding. But I'm certainly not going to stand around in front of you when you're radiating enough temper to burn the house down."
"I am not throwing a temper," he growls, stepping closer, his jaw setting into a hard line. "I am establishing what is mine. You're my wife."
"Your wife," I repeat with a dry, bitter edge, looking up at him. "Right. Because that title meant so much the last time I had it."
Dominic's eyes darken instantly. "Do not bring Luciano into this."
"Why not?" I shoot back, crossing my own arms as the residual adrenaline from the casino flares up into pure defiance.
"It’s the same dynamic, isn't it? A powerful man asserting control, claiming ownership over me like a piece of land, getting furious the second someone else steps into the perimeter. I’ve lived through one marriage built on possessive dominance, Dominic.
Forgive me if I'm not eager to repeat the experience. "
"You think this is the same?" The words snap out of him, sharp and dangerous. He closes the distance between us in two long strides, towering over me, his shadow swallowing me whole.
"You think I am like Luciano? I gave you a home. I give you freedom. I let you speak to me the way no one else in this city dares to, and you compare me to a dead coward who hid behind his rank?"
"You're acting just like him tonight!" I snap, refusing to back down, my chest heaving as I look right into his furious gaze. "You didn't care about that man touching my hand—you cared about someone touching your property! It's all about control for you!"
"It isn't about control!" he roars, his breathing heavy, his gaze burning through me with an intensity that makes the room feel suffocatingly small.
"Then what is it, Dominic?" I demand, stepping right into his space. "Because if this isn't about control, and it isn't about your pride, then maybe it's about what actually happens in this room. Or what doesn't happen."
The air between us snaps tight, thick with a sudden, suffocating heat.
Dominic’s eyes drop to my lips before rising back to mine, dark and completely feral. "Careful, Rosalia."
"Why should I be careful?" I push, my heart hammering against my ribs, driven by a strange mix of anger and nerve.
"You treat me like I’m yours out in public, laying hands on anyone who looks at me, acting like the possessive husband.
But in this bed, you keep your distance.
So which is it? Am I your wife, or am I just another piece of territory you like to guard? "
I know I’m not being fair. I was the one who drew the lines. I was the one who made the rule.
But…he’s also never attempted to erase those lines! It’s like he’s comfortable without intimacy. Without touching me. Kissing me. How can he look at me with so much heat and stay away? How can he attack a man for touching me when he won’t do the fucking same?!
"You want to know what this bed is about?" Dominic steps so close I can feel the heat radiating off his skin, his hand reaching out to wrap firmly around the back of my neck, tilting my head up to force me to meet his burning gaze.
"You think I keep my distance because I don't want you? You have no idea how much effort it takes not to tear those clothes off you the second you walk into this room."
"Then why won’t you?" I breathe out, the words laced with a dangerous mix of defiance and desperate craving.
His grip on my neck tightens, his jaw locking so hard a muscle twitches in his cheek. "You don’t know what you’re asking for, Rosalia."
"Tear my clothes off, Dominic," I challenge, leaning into his touch, my heart pounding wild against my ribs. "Prove to me that you’re a man."
A voice in the back of my mind screams that I'm crossing a line I can't uncross. I know I’ll regret this. The moment these clothes come off, he’ll see everything—the jagged silver scars left behind by my past, the marks I keep hidden under layers of silk and lies.
But right now, the anger, the alcohol, and the suffocating tension in this room have me entirely in their grip. I’m way too strung out, too hot, too consumed by him to care. I’ve never wanted anyone so badly in my life. I want him. Right now.
His eyes flare with a sudden, dark fury that makes my breath catch in my throat. He crowds my space, trapping me against his chest as he raises his hand.
For a split second, I think he’s going to gently trace the side of my face, to break the rage with a stroke of his thumb.
Instead, I hear the sharp, violent sound of fabric giving way.
A loud, brutal tear echoes through the room as he rips my shirt down the center, the buttons scattering across the hardwood floor like hail. The cool bedroom air hits my bare skin, but the heat radiating off Dominic burns hot enough to scorch.
He steps in closer, his frame pressing me back until the edge of the mattress catches the back of my knees. His dark orbs devour me, burning through the anger, through the scars, straight into the core of me.
“Look at me, Rosalia, and you better listen to me well,” he growls, his voice a low rumble against my jaw. “Remember you asked for this, because I’ll show you no mercy. I’m going to fuck you as hard as I’ve been dying to since the moment I first saw you.”
Before the last word even clears his throat, he crashes his lips to mine, taking my mouth with a fierce, punishing hunger that completely wipes out the rest of the world.
He drags me down onto the mattress, his massive weight settling over me, pressing my hips flat into the high-thread-count sheets.
The kiss isn't gentle; it's a collision of raw frustration and long-repressed hunger, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to claim every inch of territory I’d just accused him of guarding from afar.