Page 19 of Bound in Ruin

ROSALIA

A heavy, relentless force breaks through my dream.

I’m shaken hard, my body swaying against the mattress as a firm hand grips my shoulder and gives me a sharp, unyielding jostle.

"Rosalia. Wake up."

I groan, swimming upward through layers of deep sleep, my eyelids feeling like lead. I swat blindly at the hand, burying my face deeper into the pillow, but the grip on my shoulder doesn't budge. He shakes me again, rougher this time.

"Come on, sweetheart. Up. We have somewhere to be."

"Stop," I mumble, my voice thick with sleep, dragging the duvet over my head to shut him out.

The duvet is ripped away from my face in one smooth motion, letting the chill of the air-conditioned room hit my skin. I snap my eyes open, a fiery surge of irritation igniting in my chest as I sit up, rubbing my bleary eyes.

"What is your problem?" I bite out, squinting through the dim morning light filtering through the sheer drapes.

My words catch in my throat for half a second. Dominic is standing at the foot of the bed, looking infuriatingly put-together. He’s dressed in a tailored, charcoal-grey three-piece suit that fits his broad frame with deadly precision.

His dark hair is slicked back, his jaw freshly shaved, and he smells like cedarwood and expensive cologne. It’s an absolute offense to nature that a man can look that immaculate when I barely know what year it is.

"Get up," he says, adjusting the silver cufflinks at his wrists without looking at me. "You have twenty minutes to get dressed."

"Where are we going?" I demand, tossing my hair back and glaring at him, my annoyance instantly returning full force.

"Out," he replies smoothly, checking his watch. "Wear something nice. And comfortable."

I sit frozen on the edge of the mattress, my jaw clenching. "Out? That’s all you’re giving me? A color scheme and a vague direction?"

"That’s all you need for now," Dominic says, turning toward the bedroom door. "Fifteen minutes, Rosalia. The car is idling downstairs."

"I am not one of your soldiers, Dominic!" I snap at his back, my chest heaving as anger flares up. "You don't just wake me up at the crack of dawn and order me around like a piece of luggage! Tell me where we are going!"

He pauses at the doorway, resting a hand on the frame, and glances back over his shoulder. A slow, infuriating smirk touches his lips.

"Fourteen minutes, sweetheart."

He steps out and closes the door behind him, leaving me staring at the dark wood, my blood boiling so hot I can barely breathe.

Arrogant, controlling bastard.

If he thinks he can snap his fingers and expect me to jump, he has another thing coming. I throw off the duvet, march over to the closet, and take my sweet time. I shower, pick out a high-necked, charcoal-grey tailored dress, carefully button every single fastener, and do my hair with painstaking slowness. I sit at the vanity and deliberately wait out the clock, checking my phone until a full twenty extra minutes have ticked by.

Only when I am completely satisfied with my defiance do I walk out of the room and head downstairs.

Dominic is standing near the front entryway, leaning casually against the doorframe while reading a document on his phone. When my heels click against the marble floor, he looks up. He checks his watch, his expression completely unreadable, but he doesn't say a single word about my lateness.

Not a scold, not a sarcastic remark.

He simply pockets his phone, opens the heavy oak door, and ushers me outside toward a sleek, blacked-out SUV.

He holds the door open for me. I slide into the leather backseat without looking at him, and he climbs into the driver's side, pulling out of the gated courtyard and onto the highway.

The silence inside the vehicle is suffocating. I stare out the tinted window, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. Questions are burning at the back of my throat—Where are we going? Why the rush? What is this about?—but I force myself to bite my tongue. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of asking.

He wants to keep secrets? Fine. He can go straight to hell.

Twenty minutes later, the SUV turns sharply down a concrete ramp, descending into the dark, underground garage of a massive government building. I squint through the window as we pass rows of official vehicles, security checkpoints, and municipal emblems.