Page 83 of Bound in Ruin

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.