Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ROSALIA
After avoiding Dominic like the plague all day, I finally decide it's time to get out of the house.
Yapper has been back from the vet since early this morning, but he spent the entire day crashed out on his little bed, completely knocked out by the cocktail of vaccines he received.
Now that evening is setting in and the heat of the day has burned off, the puppy is back on his feet, tail wagging and nudging my ankles for attention.
I scoop him up and head downstairs. Helena is standing near the main entryway, giving quiet instructions to one of the house staff.
"Helena," I call out, offering a soft smile. "I'm going to take Yapper for a quick walk around the grounds."
Helena smiles warmly, wiping her hands on her apron. "That's a wonderful idea, dear. Fresh air will do you both good. Have you mentioned it to Dominic?"
I roll my eyes before I can stop myself. Of course. Heavens forbid I step three inches onto the grass without alerting the boss.
"I'll go tell him," I sigh, setting Yapper down for a moment before heading down the familiar, quiet corridor toward his private study.
I knock lightly on the heavy oak door and push it open without waiting for an answer.
Dominic is sitting behind his massive mahogany desk, sipping amber liquid from a glass.
He looks up instantly, his dark gaze locking onto mine—and for a fraction of a second, that electric tension from last night flickers between us.
I clear my throat quickly, leaning against the doorframe. "I'm taking the dog for a walk around the estate."
Dominic's eyes narrow slightly as he takes in my outfit—a simple cardigan and loose trousers. He sets his glass down with a quiet tap. "Take a guard with you."
A prickle of annoyance flares in my chest. "Dominic, I'm just walking on our own grounds. Inside the high gates."
"I don't care," he says, his voice dropping into that commanding tone that leaves zero room for debate. "Take a guard, Rosalia. Or you don't go."
I glare at him for two seconds, tempted to argue just for the sake of defying him, but I really don't have the energy to turn a simple dog walk into another war.
"Fine," I snap, turning on my heel and leaving his office.
Outside, Helena already has a collar around Yapper’s neck. She agrees to join me, and we head out into the cool evening air, flanked at a respectful distance by one of Dominic's towering, silent security guards.
As Yapper happily scampers through the manicured grass, sniffing every single flowerbed in sight, the tension of the day finally begins to melt off my shoulders.
Helena turns out to be wonderful company. We wander down the winding stone paths, laughing as she shares hilarious, ridiculous stories about the estate staff, past misadventures, and random, witty observations about life in the compound.
For the first time all day, I find myself laughing out loud, the quiet evening air carrying the sound across the open gardens.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, cutting through the laughter. I pull it out to see an unfamiliar number on the screen.
"Excuse me for a second, Helena," I say, stepping slightly to the side and pressing the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
"Hello, Mrs. Kane? This is Sarah from the editorial team at the Guardian magazine," a crisp, upbeat voice speaks through the speaker.
"We're following up on the photo shoot. The editor-in-chief was wondering if you and Mr. Kane would be open to expanding the feature to include an exclusive Q&A interview as well? We’d love to get a short profile on your vision and background. "
I pause for a moment, weighing the idea. Before, the thought of putting myself out there in the public eye would have terrified me. But now? Standing on my own feet, choosing my own direction? It feels like the right step.
"We’d be happy to do the interview," I reply, keeping my tone poised and confident.
"Wonderful!" Sarah says, clearly pleased. "We’re finalizing the production schedule right now."
"Great. Please send over an official email with the full details, date, and location so I can note everything down," I instruct gently.
"Will do, Mrs. Kane. Have a great evening!"
I hang up and slip the phone back into my pocket, a quiet smile playing on my lips. Helena looks over at me with warm curiosity as Yapper violently wrestles with a stray pinecone at her feet.
"Good news?" she asks.
"The magazine wants to do a full interview," I tell her, walking back over as we resume our slow lap around the gardens. "It feels... exciting. A little surreal, but good."
"You deserve the spotlight," Helena says softly, her eyes twinkling with genuine affection. "It's about time you correct the narrative and share your voice.”
Her sentiment is sweet, and it makes me smile.
“Thank you, Helena.”
We lapse back into light, easy conversation until the sun dips below the tree line, turning the sky into shade of deep purple and gold.
Once we head back inside, I hand Yapper’s leash over to Helena so she can take him to the kitchen for his dinner. "I'm going to take a quick shower," I tell her, stretching my tired legs.
I make my way upstairs to the master suite, head straight into the sleek, marble bathroom, and lock the world out. I peel off my dusty clothes, turn the heavy brass handles, and let the steaming hot water cascade down over my shoulders, washing away the heat and tension of the long day.
Fifteen minutes later, I turn off the taps, step out onto the plush bathmat, and wrap a towel around my dripping hair. Steam billows off the glass walls, filling the room in a hazy cloud. I grab a second towel to wrap around my body—
Click.
The bathroom door swings wide open.
I gasp loudly as Dominic steps straight into the steam, completely unexpected. In my sheer, wild panic to cover my chest and hide the scars mapped across my ribs, my bare foot slips on a patch of wet tile.
"Ah—!"
My arms flail, my balance completely gives out, and I go skittering backward toward the slippery marble floor.
Before my skull can make violent contact with the marble, a heavy, iron-hard arm wraps firmly around my waist and yanks me straight against a broad, solid chest.
I hit his front with a soft thud, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it feels ready to shatter them. My hands instinctively slap onto his bare shoulders to steady myself, my breath coming in short, ragged hitches.
The towel I was holding has completely abandoned ship, fluttering to the wet floor below. I am entirely, completely naked in his grip.
"Careful," Dominic grumbles, his deep voice vibrating right against my wet skin.
"What is wrong with you?!" I snap, raw panic and immediate fury flaring through me in a blinding heat wave.
I try to wrench myself backward, struggling to cross my arms over my chest and cover my stomach, my ribs, my hip—every single scar that feels suddenly exposed under the bright vanity lights. "Do you not know how to knock?! Get out!"
Dominic doesn't let go. His grip on my waist tightens just enough to keep me pinned, his dark gaze dropping down, taking in every exposed inch of my skin without a single shred of shame or hesitation.
"I've already seen you, Rosalia," he says softly, his voice sending a treacherous shiver straight down my spine. "I’ve touched every inch of this body. You're breathtaking. There is absolutely no reason for you to hide from me."
"Dominic—"
"I loved everything I saw last night," he interrupts, his thumb tracing a slow, burning circle into the damp skin of my hip, right over a pale, jagged line. "And I want you again."
"No," I push out, my voice trembling as I try to hold up my collapsing defenses. "This... last night was a mistake. It shouldn't happen again."
Dominic's eyes darken, a dangerous, magnetic heat flaring in his gaze as he leans down, his lips hovering mere millimeters from mine.
I catch my breath, my pulse skyrocketing, my mind betraying me as my body completely freezes, waiting for the impact of his mouth. The steam in the room turns suffocating, thick with a sudden, unbearable tension.
He holds me right on the edge of the cliff for three agonizing seconds... and then slowly pulls back.
"We need to go to bed," he says, his voice gravelly as he finally releases my waist. "We have somewhere to be early in the morning."
I blink, thoroughly thrown off balance by the sudden shift. "Where are we going?"
"A cooking class," he answers simply, stepping back toward the doorway.
My jaw drops. "A... what?"
I open my mouth to demand a full explanation, but Dominic holds up a single, firm hand, cutting me off before a word can escape. "I won't be answering any more questions until we get there tomorrow morning."
Suddenly remembering that I am still standing in the middle of the bathroom stark naked, with his dark, hungry gaze sweeping down my frame one last time, a hot blush explodes across my cheeks.
I huff loudly, snatch the damp towel off the floor to wrap around myself, and march straight past him out of the bathroom with every ounce of dignity I can muster.
The next morning, our black SUV pulls up to a sunlit, high-end culinary studio in the heart of the city.
I step inside, looking around at the gleaming stainless-steel counters, artisan wooden cutting boards, and all the excited guests scattered around. I turn to Dominic, completely floored.
"You were actually serious?" I whisper, my eyes wide. "Why on earth are we really here, Dominic?"
Dominic leans in close, his voice lowering into a barely audible rumble near my ear.
"Judge Arthur Sterling handles high-value probate cases—including the dispute Dante is trying to ignite over Luciano's estate.
He and his wife, Eleanor, attend this class every single Saturday morning.
We need to make sure Sterling stays impartial, or better yet, leans our way. "
I stare at him in disbelief. How does he even know this? The depth of his intelligence network never ceases to amaze—and terrify—me.