Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DOMINIC
Two hours later, I drop Rosalia off at the estate. She’s the first to get out of the car, but when she notices I’m not following, she frowns.
"Where are you going?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest as she stops on the front steps, her dark eyes tracking my every move.
I just offer her a slow, unreadable smile. "I'll be back."
She narrows her eyes at me, a sharp, suspicious glare settling on her face as I pull away, the heavy iron gates closing behind me.
I drive into an affluent, suburban neighborhood of the city, where historic mansions sit behind tall, pristine hedges and manicured lawns. I pull up to an ornate brick house, kill the ignition, and walk up the stone path to the grand front entrance.
I press the brass doorbell.
A moment later, the oak door swings open, revealing Judge Arthur Sterling. He’s in a silk lounge jacket, a glass of scotch in his hand. He blinks, a subtle flicker of recognition darting across his eyes as he takes in my face and my tailored suit.
"Can I help you?" Sterling asks, frowning slightly. "You look...oddly familiar."
I smile, letting the expression remain completely devoid of warmth. "It's me. Cooking class, Dom. My wife is Rosalia.”
Sterling’s face drains of color instantly. Fear flashes wild in his eyes, and he immediately lunges forward to slam the door shut in my face. Before the wood can latch, I slip my leather-gloved hand into the frame, catching the door with effortless force and shoving it back wide open.
"Now, now, Arthur," I say smoothly, stepping over the threshold. "I thought you wanted to see me again. You told me to return to class on Saturday."
The judge stumbles backward into his grand foyer, clutching his drink like a weapon. "What... what do you want from me? I don’t have any money, please.”
What? The bastard thinks I’m here for his money?
I’m not surprised that he doesn’t know me. I've been under the radar for years, and I go out of my way to steer clear off the path of any law enforcement officer.
I brush past him, sweeping a quick, practiced glance across the high ceilings and quiet corridors. The house is dead quiet. Empty. No staff, no one. I wonder where his wife is.
"Lovely place you have here," I say, stepping further inside. "Built on an honorable judge's salary, no doubt."
"If you're here to threaten me—"
"I don't make threats, Arthur. I deliver terms," I interrupt, reaching into my inner jacket pocket and pulling out a slim leather folder. I toss it onto the center table between us.
Sterling hesitates before reaching out with a trembling hand, opening the file. As his eyes scan the offshore account numbers, the Cayman shell company transfers, and the exact dates corresponding to Dante's payoffs, his face turns a stark, ghostly white.
"This... this is..." he stammers out, his throat working dryly.
"This is your life, Arthur," I say flatly. "If this file hits the state prosecutor's desk, you lose your bench, your pension, your freedom, and whatever scrap of dignity you have left. But it doesn't have to go down like that."
Sterling drops the folder onto the table, dropping heavily against the leather chair, sweating profusely. "What do you want?"
"You’re handling a case next week. Rosalia Caruso, widow of Luciano DeLorenzo. Now married to me. Dominic Kane.”
His eyes flash with recognition at my name.
Yes. That’s fucking right.
“Y—you’re K-Kane?”
I ignore him.
“When Rosalia's probate case comes before your bench next week, you are going to rule strictly in her favor," I state, leaning in close so he can feel the ice in my voice.
"You will ensure she receives every single asset, every piece of land, and every dollar left in Luciano's estate. Do we understand each other?"
Sterling swallows hard, bowing his head in total defeat. "I'll do it. I'll make sure she wins."
I pat his shoulder firmly, a dark, victorious glint in my eyes. "I knew you'd make the right decision, Arthur. Have a good evening."
By the time I pull back into the estate, it’s evening. I head upstairs to the master suite and find Rosalia sitting on the edge of the bed, reading a book.
She looks up the moment I step inside. "Back already?"
“Miss me?” I ask, unbuttoning my coat and tossing it over the chair.
She huffs, but I can feel her gaze tracking me across the room.
I walk over to her, resting my hands on my hips as I look down into her dark eyes. "You can stop worrying about the probate hearing, Rosalia. Next week, you win."
She freezes, the book loosening in her fingers. She doesn't cheer. She doesn't smile. A shadow falls over her face instead. She knows me too well. She knows that for a victory like this to fall into her lap overnight, I had to play the monster in the dark.
“Is that where you went? To see Judge Sterling?”
What’s the point of lying?
“Yes.”
"You blackmailed him," she says quietly, her voice flat.
"I did what was necessary.”
Silence fills the room. Rosalia sets her book down on the nightstand, her gaze drifting down to her hands folded in her lap. The mood between us shifts, growing dense, serious, and dangerously real.
"I never wanted this," she whispers softly. "I never wanted any of this filth attached to my life. When I was with Luciano... I spent years dreaming of a completely different life. A quiet one."
I watch her closely, my jaw tightening slightly. "Is that why you never had children with him?"
Rosalia stills instantly. She slowly lifts her head, her dark eyes locking onto mine with a sharp, piercing intensity that cuts straight through the room.
"Why do you say it like that, Dominic?" she asks, her voice soft. "Why do you say 'you never had children with him’ like I didn’t want them... instead of assuming I couldn't have them?"
The air in the bedroom turns completely still.
Well…there goes everything I’ve been stuffing down.
I don't answer right away. I keep my expression locked behind an impenetrable mask, but the fraction-of-a-second delay in my response speaks louder than any word could.
Rosalia's eyes widen slightly as the realization hits her like a physical blow. She stands up from the bed, staring at me as if looking at a stranger.
"You know," she breathes out, her voice trembling with sudden, sharp inquisition. "You know something about my past. What are you hiding from me, Dominic?"
My heart slams violently against my ribs, a cold sweat pricking the back of my neck. I step forward, reaching out for her before the distance between us can fracture into something irreparable.
To my absolute relief, she doesn't flinch away. She steps into my arms willingly, letting me pull her flush against my chest.
"I am fighting for you," I tell her, my voice a quiet, desperate rumble near her ear.
At least that’s the truth. It's the absolute truth, and right now, it’s the only bit of truth I can afford to give her without shattering everything. I hold her tight, waiting for the anger, waiting for the storm of questions that I know I cannot answer yet.
Rosalia pulls back just enough to look at me. She eyes me skeptically for a long, torturous moment, searching my face for the lie, weighing the heavy silence between us.
And then... she smiles.
It’s such a beautiful, glorious, devastating smile that the breath completely leaves my lungs. I just stare down at her in pure awe, completely disarmed by the sudden warmth lighting up her dark eyes.
"In that case," she whispers softly, tracing the line of my jaw with her fingertips, "then thank you, Dominic.
No one has ever fought for me like this before.
I appreciate you. And I have been terrified ever since Luciano was found dead.
That I would be accused for his murder. Having you by my side makes me less scared. "
She leans up on her toes and drops a soft, lingering kiss on my lips, leaving me with another blinding, breathtaking smile before pulling away to grab her book.
Fuck.
I stand frozen in the middle of the bedroom, staring after her as my pulse hammers a frantic rhythm against my throat.
I’m a fucking dead man.