Page 65 of Bound in Ruin

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?"