Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
DOMINIC
I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking giving her those keys.
Okay, fine. I know exactly what I was thinking.
I know how much she loves driving that car. I know the way her face lights up when the engine turns over, how completely free she feels whenever she’s behind the wheel. I just wanted to make her happy. I wanted to give her something real, something that proved I wasn't holding her hostage.
But I wasn't thinking clearly.
Now it’s pitch-black outside, and she’s been gone for over an hour.
That Stingray is a monster to handle, the clutch is unforgiving, and—sorry, Rosalia—she’s not winning any best driver contests anytime soon.
I saw her when she was getting ready to leave, even though she didn't see me watching from the shadow of the upper balcony. I watched her speed out into the night.
Now here I am, pacing the cold concrete of the garage like a complete fool, praying to gods I don’t even believe in just to hear that engine rumbling back down the driveway.
For fuck's sake, she was literally attacked just days ago. Dante's men are still out there, desperate and cornered. I should have insisted she take a team of bodyguards with her. But I knew the second I brought up security, she’d throw a tantrum, thinking I was trying to leash her all over again.
Fuck. I’m going insane.
I drag a hand down my face, my boots echoing sharply against the empty parking bays.
Every minute that ticks by feels like a razor blade scraping against my nerves.
If anything happens to her out there—if Dante touches a single hair on her head because I tried to be a thoughtful fucking husband—I will burn this entire city to the ground, starting with myself.
Just then, the deep, thunderous roar of the Stingray's engine echoes through the iron gates, cutting through the silence of the night.
Relief hits me so hard my knees almost give out, but the instant the headlights flash into the garage, I force my posture straight.
I quickly grab a rag off the workbench and pretend to be meticulously wiping down the hood of one of the other cars, acting like I haven't been pacing these floors like a manic lunatic for the last ninety minutes.
She pulls into her spot, the engine cutting out with a soft sputter.
I don't ask where she went. I don't ask why she took so damn long.
"Did it stall?" I ask, keeping my voice smooth and indifferent as I toss the rag back onto the bench.
Rosalia steps out of the car, tossing her hair back, her cheeks flushed from the cool night wind. She looks at me, slightly guarded. "It stalled twice."
"Okay," I say simply, nodding once.
“Thanks.” She unclips the key, holding it out toward me. "I'm going to go upstairs and shower."
"Okay," I repeat, taking the keys as her fingers briefly brush mine.
I stand there, rooted to the spot, watching her silhouette disappear through the doors leading back into the main house.
A moment later, the soft thud of shoes signals Helena walking into the garage. She stops a few feet away, crossing her arms, a knowing, triumphant smirk playing on her lips.
"Are you more relaxed now that she's back safely?" she asks, her voice dripping with amusement.
I glare at her, my jaw tight. "I'm not in the mood for your snark tonight, Helena."
Helena laughs quietly, shaking her head. "You can easily take yourself out of this misery, you know. Plan a romantic date for her."
I pause, my eyes snapping back to her.
"I happen to be friends with Rosalia," Helena continues, raising an eyebrow. "We talk. And I know for a fact that she would appreciate something like that from you right now."
Interest ignites instantly in my chest, burning through the lingering anxiety. I step toward her. "What type of date?"
Helena just shakes her head, stepping backward toward the door. "Oh no. It's up to you to figure that out, Dominic."
Before I can demand a straight answer, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.
A while later, I make my way up to the master suite.
Rosalia is already in bed, propped up against the pillows, freshly showered.
I head into the bathroom, take a quick shower to wash off the dirt from the day, and pull on a pair of black briefs. Slipping quietly back into the bedroom, I climb onto the mattress, keeping my distance as I lie down beside her.
I reach out, my fingers gently brushing against the smooth skin of her bare arm. "Rosalia..."
She flinches instantly, pulling her arm back as if my touch burned her. "I don't want to have sex tonight, Dominic."
The words hit me like a physical blow right to the chest, leaving a sharp, bitter ache in their wake.
Is that really how she sees me? An animal who only comes to her when he wants to take?
God, I just wanted to talk to her. I just wanted to hold her, to feel her heart beating against mine so I could finally sleep knowing she was safe.
I swallow down the sudden, painful lump in my throat and pull my hand back entirely.
"Okay," I whisper into the quiet room.
I roll onto my side, away from her, reach over to the nightstand, and switch off the light, plunging us both into absolute darkness.
I don’t sleep. I can’t. The sting of her words lingers in the quiet room, a sharp reminder of the distance still stretching between us. I stay completely still, staring blankly into the shadows, listening to the silence until her even breathing tells me she has finally fallen asleep.
Hours pass. I don't move an inch, keeping my distance on my side of the mattress just like she asked.
Sometime in the middle of the night, the bed shifts slightly.
"Dominic?" her voice breaks through the dark, small and groggy. She turns over, her eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the sheer curtains. "Why are you awake?"
I keep my gaze fixed on the ceiling and force a smile. "Go back to sleep, Rosalia."
She doesn't close her eyes. She lies there in the quiet, the silence stretching between us for a long, agonizing minute.
"I'm sorry," she whispers softly into the dark. "For snapping at you earlier."
"It's fine," I reply, my voice tight.
"It's not," she insists quietly. "I know I hurt you. I'm sorry, Dominic. Really."
The mattress shifts again. This time, by her own choice, she slides across the space separating us. She reaches out, her small, warm hand resting gently on my chest before she leans up and presses a soft, tentative kiss to my lips.
My whole body stiffens. I pull back just an inch, looking up at her in the faint moonlight.
"Stay away, Rosalia," I warn her, my voice turning gravelly, thick with raw restraint. "Please. You know I've never been able to resist you."
She doesn't flinch this time. She holds my gaze, her eyes completely clear. "I don't want you to."
She closes the remaining distance, her lips finding mine again.
The kiss starts slow, but the moment her fingers entangle in my hair, the breath hitches in my throat. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me, sinking into the warmth of her mouth.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathing heavily in the dark, she rests her forehead against mine, her hand cupping the side of my face.
"Promise me," she whispers, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. "Promise me you will never lie to me again. No more secrets, Dominic. Never again."
I look straight into her eyes, no walls left to hide behind. "I promise you. On my life, Rosalia. Never again."
She exhales a long, shaky breath, relaxing against my chest.
I stroke her back gently, the quiet settling over us once more. The confusion, the fear, the intensity of what we've been running from suddenly feels too heavy to keep bottled up inside.
"I have feelings for you, Rosalia," I admit softly, the truth spilling out of me first. "Real ones. And honestly... it terrifies the hell out of me."
Rosalia quietens for a moment, resting her head over my heart, listening to its steady thud.
"I feel the same for you too," she murmurs into my skin, her fingers tracing soft patterns on my shoulder. "It confuses me, and it scares me after everything... but it's real."
I pull the blanket up over her shoulders, tightening my hold around her as she snuggles closer into my side. For the first time all night, the tension in my chest dissolves, replaced by a sweet peace as we fall asleep together in the dark.
"One more thing," Rosalia whispers, her voice muffled against my chest, breaking the quiet right as I begin to drift off.
"Yeah?"
She lifts her head slightly, her dark eyes looking up into mine with a serious look.
"You have to stop treating me like a case file, Dominic.
No more reading my reactions like a tactical report, no more investigating my life from behind a desk.
If you want to know something about me—how I feel, what I like, what I want—you ask me. Directly."
A small, quiet breath escapes my lips, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Fair enough."
I stroke a thumb across her cheekbone, holding her gaze in the dim moonlight. "Then let me ask you directly... will you let me take you out? On a real date. Just you and me. No bodyguards hovering, no business attached, no bullshit."
Rosalia blinks, caught off guard for a fraction of a second, before a clear, musical laugh bubbles out of her chest.
"A real date?" she echoes, a soft, genuine smile spreading across her face.
"A real date," I confirm, my chest swelling at the sound of her laughter.
"Yes, Dominic," she murmurs, snuggling back down into the crook of my neck, resting her arm over my waist. "I'd really like that."
Yes!
By the evening of the next day, I have everything planned.
I’ve bought out the rooftop of one of the city’s most exclusive restaurants. Just me and Rosalia. My wife.
A Michelin-starred chef has prepared a private dinner for us, and a renowned musician is performing live. I’ve gone all out.
When we arrive, I take her by the hand and lead her upstairs.
The moment she steps out and sees it, she stops.