Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ROSALIA
Having breakfast with my husband is quickly becoming my most favorite activity.
The morning sun streams warm and bright through the tall windows of the dining room, illuminating the spread of fresh fruit, pastries, and coffee laid out on the table.
Underneath the linen tablecloth, Dominic’s large hand is warm over mine, our fingers loosely laced together. Down by my feet, Yapper is letting out little excited yaps every time a crumb lands near his nose, his tail thumping rhythmically against the hardwood floor.
Sitting across from us, Keane is quietly sipping his black coffee while reviewing a stack of morning briefs, while Helena moves back and forth from the kitchen, beaming at the sight of the two of us.
"I still can't believe it," Helena says, setting a fresh carafe of orange juice on the table, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "The Guardian interview drops in just three days. I honestly can't wait to see what the two of you actually said about each other."
I roll my eyes playfully, taking a slow sip of my coffee. "Oh, please, Helena. We said nothing but stark truths. If you’re looking for fairytale romance, you won’t find it.”
Dominic lets out a smooth laugh, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand. "What? Please. I was a complete gentleman."
"That's what frightens me," I tease back, unable to hide the bright smile breaking across my face.
It’s been two days since our date at the beach, and honestly... I’ve never been happier. The constant anxiety that used to live in my chest has dissolved into something soft and real. For the first time in a very long time, I feel like I am exactly where I belong.
A sharp chime breaks through the warm atmosphere.
My phone, resting beside my plate, lights up with an incoming email notification. I slide my hand out of Dominic's grip to pick it up, tapping the screen to open the message.
The header at the top of the email instantly freezes the breath in my throat: DeLorenzo Legal Group.
My eyes quickly skim down the formal legalese on the screen. The easy mood in the room vanishes in a fraction of a second as the words register.
"What is it?" Dominic asks, his voice instantly losing its playful edge, his dark eyes sharpening as he catches the sudden shift in my posture.
I swallow hard, staring down at the glowing screen. "It's an email from Dante's lawyers. They're requesting a formal arbitration... next Monday."
Before I can even process the text, Dominic snatches the phone right out of my hand. I don't even have to look at him—the sharp intake of his breath and the immediate hardening of his jaw say it all.
Dante is requesting a formal arbitration between the DeLorenzos, the Carusos, and the Kanes. His legal team claims that Luciano's hidden accounts contain proprietary DeLorenzo property—business records, clearance codes, high-value contracts, untraceable funds, and sensitive intelligence.
Because of this, he argues that I have no legal right to keep the files or turn them over to Dominic, which he explicitly notes I am bound to do given my marriage into the Kane family.
He’s legally twisting facts to build a technical argument, but everyone in this room knows that’s not the actual point.
Dominic finishes reading, his dark eyes ablaze with cold fury, and shoves the phone toward Keane. He leans over it, his brow furrowing deeper with every line they scan.
Keane is the first to speak, setting the phone down on the table with an exhale.
"Since Dante failed to rob you of your rights legally after losing the will contest in court, he’s shifting tactics.
He’s trying to pressure you publicly. If he forces a public arbitration, he can spin the narrative to make you look unstable, guilty, and entirely manipulated by the Kane family. "
Helena turns her sharp gaze between the two of us, her mouth setting into a grim line. "What are you going to do?"
"We aren't doing a fucking thing with his arbitration," Dominic snaps instantly, standing up from his chair so fast it scrapes loudly against the hardwood floor. "I’ll shut the meeting down before it even makes the docket. I’ll handle Dante myself."
"No," I say, my voice cutting through his rising anger with absolute clarity.
Dominic pauses, turning to glare down at me. "Rosalia—"
"No, Dominic," I repeat, standing up to meet his intense gaze head-on. "We are attending that arbitration."
He opens his mouth to argue, his chest rising as he prepares to completely steamroll the conversation, but I step closer, holding my ground until his jaw clicks shut.
"If you want me to be your wife and not your pawn," I say, keeping my tone calm, "then you cannot handle me like one. You cannot fight my battles in the dark while hiding me behind your back. It is time I prove to Dante—and everyone else in this city—that I am not a pushover."
Dominic stares at me, the muscle in his jaw ticking wildly as his protective instincts clash violently with the respect he promised me. For a long, tense moment, the room is completely silent.
Finally, he lets out a harsh breath, his shoulders dropping just a fraction.
"Fine," Dominic agrees, his dark eyes locking onto mine with fierce intensity. "We go to the arbitration. When we walk into that room, Rosalia... you speak first. But if Dante pisses me off, he will not leave that room alive.”
I believe him.
Three days later, we’re back at the long mahogany dining table for breakfast.
It seems like the tension from Dante's arbitration notice has temporarily receded, replaced by a warm, chaotic energy.
Helena and Keane are sitting across from us, a physical copy of The Guardian spread out between them, both of them grinning like kids with a prize.
"Well, well, well," Keane chuckles, tapping the glossy page with his finger.
"You two certainly put on a masterclass.
On the surface, you posture as cold, powerful, and perfectly matched—a total united front.
" He flips the page, his smirk broadening.
"But if you read between the lines, you dropped some hilarious accidental truths. "
"Listen to this," Helena chimes in, clearing her throat dramatically to read Dominic's highlighted quote.
"'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.”
Dominic takes a slow sip of his black coffee, looking entirely unimpressed, though a tiny smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"And here’s Rosalia on you, Boss," Keane adds, leaning back in his chair to quote me.
“Keane…” I groan. “Come on.”
He continues with a laugh, "'Dominic is not as cold and careless as he wants the world to believe. He wears a very heavy armor, and he lets people think he’s ruthless…”
I tune out the rest of the words because I can feel my face heat up like a stove.
Helena drops the magazine onto the table with a theatrical clatter, crossing her arms as she looks between the two of us. "You two were publicly defending each other's honor in a national magazine before you even fully settled your fight privately!"
"It's true," Keane agrees, shaking his head with a grin. "You've both been caring for each other a hell of a lot longer than either of you wants to admit."
More heat instantly rushes up my neck, flushing my cheeks a bright, burning red. I stare down at my plate, trying desperately to regain my composure.
Beside me, Dominic doesn't even bother to deny it. He throws his head back and laughs, openly enjoying Keane and Helena’s endless teasing.
Unable to take his smug amusement for another second, I reach over and slap his arm hard.
"Ow!" Dominic exclaims, rubbing his bicep as his laugh turns even louder, his dark eyes sparkling down at me with pure delight. "What was that for?"
"For sitting there looking pleased with yourself!" I huff, though I can't stop the stubborn smile from breaking across my face as he wraps his arm around the back of my chair, pulling me closer to his side.
He kisses me thoroughly right in front of them, paying no mind to the dramatic groans coming from across the table.
Helena covers her eyes with a dish towel while Keane mutters something about losing his appetite, but I just melt into Dominic's arms, letting the heat of his mouth sweep away the last of my embarrassment.
Today was off to a marvelous start.
The plan for the morning is simple and perfect: Dominic and I will lounge together in the quiet shade of the garden for a few hours, and then by noon, we’ll head over to Camilla's house.
I’ve spent days coordinating a double date with Camilla and her husband, Maksim.
It took me a solid two hours of endless bargaining, threats, pouting, and strategic persuasion to convince Dominic to come with me. Maksim isn't exactly the easiest man to sit down with, and Dominic isn't known for making friendly small talk with other powerful men.
But he finally agreed, and we’re going.
If this goes well, we can start having more dates like this. I don't just want my sisters to stay close—I want our husbands to build a bridge, too. In our world, survival means strength, and we have to stay united.
Dominic's thumb traces small, comforting circles on my shoulder as we turn our attention back to the table.
Suddenly, the harsh ring of Keane’s phone cuts through the warm atmosphere.
Keane pulls the device from his inner jacket pocket, glances at the caller ID, and his entire posture shifts into instant alert. Without a word to us, he stands up from the table, his face unreadable, and hurries away down the long corridor to take the call in private.
I see Dominic’s gaze follow Keane down the hallway, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, but I think nothing of it as we round off breakfast.
A minute later, Keane reappears at the entrance of the dining room. His expression is completely smooth, but there's a tight, guarded tension in his jaw. "Boss. There’s something urgent. We have to go."