Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
DOMINIC
It’s well past midnight when I finally return to the estate. The front doors shut behind me with a muted thud, the quiet of the house wrapping around me like a cold shroud.
My feet drag as I make my way up the grand staircase. For the past six hours, I couldn't focus on a single fucking thing. Out in the city, tracking Dante’s movements should have had my full, undivided attention, but my mind was completely trapped in our bedroom.
Keane had noticed instantly. What the hell is wrong with you? he’d asked, watching me stare blankly at a surveillance feed.
When I finally snapped and laid out the entire sickening mess—everything he already knows about—the bastard had just looked at me with solemn, brutal honesty. She’s going to leave you, Dominic. Any sane woman would.
Fucking bastard.
Those six words have been echoing in my skull ever since, a relentless, deafening drumbeat pounding against my ribs.
I reach the master suite, resting my palm against the mahogany door for a long, agonizing second before slowly turning the handle.
The room is dim, lit only by the warm glow of the bedside lamp. Rosalia is sitting up against the headboard, an open book resting in her lap.
The moment I step inside, Yapper pops his small head up from the end of the bed. His ears back, he lets out a sharp, defensive bark, his tiny body stiffening as he glares at me.
A small, unexpected twist of quiet satisfaction touches my chest. This dog impresses me every day.
The little creature is protecting her. He senses her pain, senses the threat in the room, and he's standing his ground. Good. It proves the dog is loyal to her, and if nothing else, I’m glad she has a guardian who won't betray her trust.
I glance warily past the dog, expecting her to be looking away, but her dark eyes are already fixed directly on me.
She isn't crying. Her expression is calm, composed, and completely unreadable—which terrifies me a thousand times more than tears did.
"How are you?" I ask softly, my voice gravelly as I stay rooted near the entryway.
Rosalia slowly closes her book, setting it aside on the nightstand. She looks up, holding my gaze with an unblinking focus.
"Sit down, Dominic," she says, her tone smooth, measured, and stripped of all anger. "We need to talk."
My heart slams violently against my ribs, hammering so hard it aches in my chest.
This is it, my mind screams. She’s done. She’s walking away.
The sheer terror of losing her grips my throat, choking the breath right out of me. What the fuck am I supposed to do if she says she’s leaving? How do I survive walking through this empty house knowing I drove away the only light I've ever had?
"Give me a minute," I force out, my voice tight and strained. "Let me pour myself a drink."
Rosalia nods stiffly, her eyes tracking my movements as I turn away.
I cross the dark floor to the wet bar, my hands trembling slightly as I grab the crystal decanter.
I don't bother with a glass of ice. I pour a generous splash of straight bourbon into a short glass and down it in one sharp, burning gulp.
The alcohol sears its way down my throat, but it does fuck-all to steady the violent pounding in my chest.
I set the heavy glass down with a quiet click, take a long, deep breath to steady the rising panic, and turn back to face her.
"Alright," I say, my voice steadying as I fix my eyes on hers. "Let’s talk."
Rosalia sits up a little straighter on the edge of the bed, her dark eyes pinning me with a look that is terrifyingly blank.
"I won't pretend I can just forget what you did, Dominic," she begins, her voice clear and measured. "The betrayal... I can't forgive it easily. It's going to take time. But the files? You can take them. Do whatever it is you need to do with them. I don't care about Luciano's secrets."
I freeze, a cold, harsh refusal instantly hardening in my chest.
"No," I say bluntly, shaking my head. "I'm not taking them."
Rosalia frowns, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Dominic, that was the whole point. That's what you married me for—"
"I don't give a damn about the files anymore," I cut in, stepping closer to the bed, my voice rough and laced with absolute certainty. "Those files mean nothing to me if you can't forgive me. I'm not touching them."
"You take them," I tell her, holding her gaze. "Everything Luciano had on me is in there. Take it. Keep it as proof—as collateral. If there ever comes a day where you want your freedom from me, use it. Hand it to the feds. Destroy me."
Rosalia’s eyes widen in sheer shock. "You... you don't mean that."
"I fucking do," I snap, my voice thick with a raw honesty that strips away every layer of defense I've ever built. "If I can't earn your trust back, then I don't deserve the protection. I'm handing you the gun, Rosalia. It's yours."
Silence falls over the room, heavy and charged like the air right before a lightning strike.
She stares at me, searching my face for any hint of a lie, any sign of tactical deceit. But there's nothing left to hide behind. I am completely exposed.
"Dominic..." she whispers, her throat working as she swallows hard. She looks down at her lap, her hands tightly interlaced. "Despite how everything began... I never felt caged with you."
The breath hitches in my chest.
"You gave me room to breathe," she continues softly, looking up into my eyes with an overwhelming vulnerability. "You gave me room to actually figure out who I am. Before you... I had never even dated anyone. I had never known what it felt like to have someone stand in my corner."
Something inside me snaps.
I bridge the remaining distance between us in two heavy strides. I drop to my knees beside the bed, cupping her face in both of my hands, and bring my lips crashing down onto hers.
It is a desperate, starved kiss—frantic and heavy with the fear that we are separating, that the world might tear us apart before I can fix what I broke.
I kiss her like a drowning man reaching for air, pouring every drop of my silent worship, my remorse, and my wild, dangerous affection into the press of my mouth against hers.
For a fraction of a second, she catches her breath—and then her arms wrap tightly around my neck.
She clings to me, pulling me impossibly closer, and kisses me back just as ferally, matching my desperation with her own fierce heat.
We both fall onto the bed.
As I reach to push the strap of her nightdress down her shoulders, she reaches to unbuckle my pants. Neither of us speaks, but we both know exactly what the other needs.
When she wraps her fingers around my cock, I let out a sharp hiss and press her into the mattress, sinking my teeth gently into her already hardened nipple.
She lets out a soft whimper, her hand sliding down to guide me to her entrance. I plunge in with a single, deep thrust, pulling her nipple back into my mouth as she gasps.
Wet and eager for me, she yields instantly to my depth. She wraps an arm tightly around my neck, anchoring herself as I establish a relentless, pulsing rhythm against her.
"I'm sorry," I mutter against her skin, the words breathless and thick with emotion between deep thrusts. "God, you're so beautiful... so fucking beautiful."
Her moans shatter through the quiet room, loud, uninhibited, and driving me past the edge of control. I lean down again, my mouth closing over her nipple to lick and tease it hard, matching the punishing pace of my hips.
Sliding one hand down between our bodies, my thumb finds her clit, flicking it in sharp, precise motions that send a violent shiver straight through.
"Dominic..." she chokes out, my name a shattered plea on her lips as her head falls back into the pillows.
I don't slow down. I pound into her harder, driving us both to the absolute brink, but it still isn't close enough. Needing more, needing all of her, I hook my hands under her hips, flipping her over onto her hands and knees in one fluid, urgent motion.
I pull her up against me and drive back inside her from behind, raw and ferocious. She arches into the impact, completely feral, pushing back against every thrust with a desperate, wild heat of her own.
We're tearing into each other, starved and breathless, both of us consumed by the undeniable truth that we need this—that we need each other—to survive the night.
I reach around her waist, my hands finding her breasts, molding and lifting them as I continue to fuck into her without mercy.
Every slide of my body against hers is pure, unadulterated friction, driving the pace until the tension snaps entirely. The climax hits us at the exact same moment—a numbing, electric shatter that tears through my veins and pulls a ragged growl from my chest as she tightens violently around me.
When the waves finally subside, my legs give out, and we collapse together onto the tangled sheets.
I pull her into my arms, gathering her flush against my chest. I can feel the lingering tension in her muscles, the slight stiffness remaining in her frame, but I hold her anyway.
I'm just grateful she's letting me. For tonight, for right now, this is a win.
I press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead, resting my chin against the top of her head. I don't move an inch, holding us both perfectly still as our ragged breaths slowly begin to calm in the dark.