Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
ROSALIA
On Monday morning, our black SUV glides smoothly up the private drive of the Grand Regency Hotel, pulling to a halt beneath the polished glass canopy. The venue for the Guardian magazine interview is an exclusive, top-floor suite overlooking the skyline.
I look down at my silk dress, my pulse quickening just a bit. This isn't like the photo shoot; it's a full-length feature on the mysterious, powerful Dominic Kane and his new wife.
I turn in my seat, locking eyes with Dominic. "We need to practice."
Dominic raises an eyebrow, resting one wrist over the steering wheel. "Practice what?"
"The questions!" I say, exasperated. "This is a couple's interview, Dominic. You know the interviewer is going to ask how we met, how we fell in love, how you proposed... all of it. And you definitely cannot tell them you bought me from my father like a piece of high-value inventory."
A low, deep chuckle rumbles from his chest.
"It's not funny!" I snap, swatting his shoulder with my clutch bag, though a tiny smile tugs at my own lips despite the nervous energy in my stomach. "We need a story. A good one. One that doesn't involve mafia debts, forced contracts, or extortion."
"Fine," he says smoothly, leaning back against his seat, his dark eyes fixed on mine with amused intrigue. "What's our beautiful romance story, Mrs. Kane?"
"We met at a charity gala," I improvise quickly. "An exclusive high-society event in the city. You saw me across the room, you were completely enchanted, and you asked me to dance."
"Enchanted," Dominic repeats, testing the word on his tongue like a rare wine, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "And then?"
"And then you courted me," I say firmly, glaring at him. "You sent flowers. You took me to fine restaurants. You fell head over heels in love with me, and I—after a lot of convincing—eventually gave in to your irresistible charm."
"Convincing?" He leans in closer. "I don't remember having to do much convincing when I had you pinned against the bed."
"Dominic!" I gasp, my cheeks flaming hot as I glance toward the front partition to make sure the driver isn't listening. "Be serious! If they ask what you love most about me, what are you going to say?"
He stops laughing. His dark gaze holds mine, the playful mockery evaporating into something thick, steady, and uncomfortably real.
"I'll tell them you're a fighter," he says quietly, his thumb reaching out to brush gently against my jawline. "I'll tell them you don't break, no matter how hard the world tries to bend you. And that you're the only person on this planet insane enough to yell at me in my own house."
My breath hitches in my throat. I stare at him, completely thrown off balance by the raw sincerity in his voice, my rehearsed lines suddenly vanishing from my mind.
"Okay," I whisper, swallowing hard to clear the nervous lump in my throat. "That... that works."
Dominic offers a slow, satisfied nod. He turns, opening his side of the door, and steps out onto the valet pavement before rounding the car to open mine. He extends a long hand toward me.
I take a deep breath, slip my hand into his firm, steady grip, and step out into the bright morning sun. With our story locked in and his arm wrapped firmly around my waist, we walk together through the grand revolving doors of the hotel.
We are met almost instantly at the glass doors by the magazine’s lead event coordinator, a woman holding an iPad who looks as though she might faint from sheer excitement.
"Mr. and Mrs. Kane! It is an absolute honor to have you both," she gushes, her voice tight with giddy professionalism. She bows her head slightly, gesturing toward the private elevator bank. "Right this way, please. Everything has been prepared for you in the Presidential Suite upstairs."
We are ushered up to the top floor and guided into a massive, light-filled suite that takes my breath away. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrap around the perimeter, offering a staggering panoramic view of the city skyline.
The interview area has been arranged in the center of the room with warm, sophisticated lighting—two plush cream velvet armchairs set beside a polished mahogany coffee table, with small, high-end cameras mounted on discreet tripods around us.
Soft vintage rugs cushion the hardwood floors, and a stunning array of white orchids frames the background.
The crew moves around us with quiet reverence, speaking in hushed tones as if stepping onto sacred ground.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable," the coordinator says, gesturing toward the armchairs.
We sit down—Dominic sinking into his chair with lazy, dangerous grace, while I settle into mine, adjusting the silk hem of my dress. He immediately reaches over, resting his broad hand casually over mine on the armrest, his thumb tracing slow, reassuring circles into my skin.
The journalist, a sharp, elegant woman named Victoria with a warm smile and an expressive face, takes her seat opposite us. She adjusts her lapel, glances at her notepad, and smiles brightly and pushes record on her phone.
"Good afternoon, everyone," Victoria begins, her voice smooth and polished. "Today, we are sitting down with one of the most talked-about couples of the year—business tycoon Dominic Kane and his stunning wife, Rosalia. Thank you both so much for joining us."
"Our pleasure," Dominic says smoothly, his public persona slipping on as effortlessly as a tailored coat.
"Let's dive right in," Victoria smiles, leaning forward on her elbows. "The public has been captivated by your whirlwind romance. Tell us... how did you two first meet?"
I take a tiny, quiet breath, slipping right into our practiced script. "It was at a charity gala," I say, offering a soft, cultured smile. "An exclusive event downtown. I was standing near the terrace, and Dominic walked up and asked me to dance."
"And was it love at first sight, Dominic?" Victoria asks, turning her bright gaze to him.
"I don't believe in fairy tales," Dominic replies smoothly, his voice a quiet rumble that fills the luxurious suite.
"But the moment I saw her across that room, I knew she was going to change my life.
She wasn't like anyone else in that room.
She was holding her ground, looking at the crowd like she owned it. "
I glance sideways at him, catching the dark, intense glint in his eyes. It was a lie—we met over a forced marriage contract and bitter debts—but as he says it, the weight behind his gaze feels startlingly real.
"That sounds utterly romantic," Victoria beams, taking a few quick notes. "Now, marriage always comes with surprises once the honeymoon phase settles. What surprised you the most about each other after tying the knot?"
I open my mouth to give a polite, sanitized answer, but the words catch in my throat as I think about him guiding my hands on the heavy gear shift of the Stingray, about him calling top doctors just for a minor graze, about the quiet way he holds me at night.
"I think..." I start slowly, my eyes turning to Dominic, "what surprised me most is that Dominic is not as cold or careless as he wants the world to believe.
He wears a heavy armor, and he lets people think he's ruthless—which he can be—but beneath all of that, he is fiercely protective.
When he decides to care for someone, he leaves zero room for failure. "
The room goes entirely still for a second. Victoria looks touched, while Dominic's jaw tightens slightly, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a sharp intensity that makes my heart skip a beat. I meant every word. It wasn't in our script, but it is the absolute truth.
Victoria turns back to Dominic, clearly moved by the unspoken chemistry radiating between us. "And for you, Dominic? What surprised you about Rosalia?"
Dominic doesn't look away from me. His thumb continues its steady, soothing rhythm against my knuckles.
"I expected a lot of things," Dominic says quietly, his deep voice carrying a strange edge of pride.
"I expected grace, beauty, elegance. But what surprised me—what catches my breath every single day—is her strength.
Rosalia is harder to frighten than any woman I have ever known.
You can put her through hell, throw a storm directly at her face, and she won't bow her head.
She just stands up and fights back harder. "
A warm blush creeps up my neck, settling high in my cheeks.
My hand twitches under his, my fingers instinctively curling around his palm.
The elaborate hotel suite shrinks until it feels like it's just the two of us sitting in the space between our lies and the undeniable truths slipping out from beneath them.
Victoria lets out a soft, delighted sigh, breaking the trance. "Well... I think our readers are going to absolutely fall in love with you two."
"Though, Rosalia... if I may be completely candid," Victoria says, her voice morphing into a faux-sympathetic tone that grates against the quiet room.
"There are quite a few whispers in high society regarding your family's recent misfortunes. Many seem to view your marriage to a man of Dominic’s...
immense status as a rather strategic, last-minute safety net for you.
How does it feel knowing people see you as little more than a lucky trophy wife rescued from ruin? "
The room temperature instantly plummets to absolute zero.
Beside me, I feel Dominic go completely rigid. His knuckles turn stark white, the muscles in his jaw flexing violently as his dark eyes lock onto Victoria with a cold, murderous promise that makes her visibly flinch.
Before he can unleash holy hell and end this woman's career—or life—I immediately reach over, slipping my fingers firmly into his hand and squeezing it with a tight, grounding pressure.
I don't need Dominic to fight this battle for me.
"Victoria," I say, my voice smooth, quiet, and razor-sharp.
I tilt my head, offering her a cool, effortless smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "If high society believes I’m a trophy, it only proves how little they understand true value. Dominic didn’t marry a helpless damsel looking for a savior, and I certainly didn't enter this union looking for an escape.
I stand beside my husband as an equal, not a charity case.
But please... do tell me more about what these 'whispers' say.
I always find the opinions of irrelevant onlookers mildly entertaining. "
Dominic’s sharp intake of breath is almost audible. I glance sideways for a fraction of a second and catch the subtle, wicked dark gleam in his eyes. He is enjoying every single second of this.
However, he doesn't let her completely off the hook.
Dominic leans forward slowly, placing his elbow on his knee, his broad frame looming over the coffee table like an approaching storm. Victoria’s smile vanished in an instant.
"My wife was polite enough to answer your question," Dominic says, his tone dark and flat, carrying an unmistakable warning that echoes off the glass windows.
“Now let me make something abundantly clear to you, Victoria.
You are in this room because we permitted it.
Speak to Rosalia with disrespect again, or question her place beside me one more time, and this interview ends right now—along with your magazine's access to anything bearing the Kane name. Am I making myself clear?"
Victoria’s face drains of color. She swallows hard, her hands trembling slightly as she clutches her notepad tightly against her chest.
"I—I apologize, Mr. Kane... Mrs. Kane," Victoria stammers out quickly, bowing her head in genuine, terrified embarrassment. "That was completely out of line. Please forgive me."
I offer a small, calm nod, tightening my grip on Dominic’s hand as he slowly settles back into his chair, his eyes never leaving her until she nervously clears her throat and moves on to the next topic.