Page 24 of Bound in Ruin

Long, rustic wooden tables are draped in deep emerald linens, set with polished silverware, crystal stemware, and low arrangements of white roses and dark greenery. The scent of roasted meats, fresh herbs, and rich wine drifts through the night air, carried by the soft evening breeze.

It’s a small, controlled gathering, but a critical one. Only a few high-ranking members of my empire are present—the men who need to understand, without a shadow of a doubt, that this marriage is a strategic alliance, not a surrender. We married in total secret to keep the vulture press away, making this dinner the true political statement.

On Rosalia’s side, she only intended to invite her sisters. But word came through my security detail earlier that her father has decided to grace us with his presence, bringing along a few key members of his cabinet. Which is fine by me.

As we step out onto the stone patio toward the garden, I notice the slight, rigid tension in her posture.

She's nervous.

We haven't spent a second together today. I was up and out of the master suite before she even opened her eyes, swamped with business, while she spent her hours glued to Helena’s side, directing the setup.

Now, standing beside me in a fitted black dress that covers her up to her throat as usual, her hands are clutched tightly in front of her. Her breathing is just a fraction too shallow.

I wonder what's going through that guarded head of hers. But Rosalia is a vault—secretive, defensive, and fiercely closed off. I know if I ask her about it now, it will only set her off, so I let her be.

"Smile, sweetheart," I murmur under my breath, offering her my arm as our guests begin to notice us. "The vultures are watching."

She smooths down her dress, takes a quiet breath to steady herself, and places her hand on my forearm as we step down into the garden to welcome our guests and mingle with the crowd that has already arrived.

For the next ten minutes as we move through the crowd and greet everyone, I notice Rosalia becoming increasingly stiffer. Her hand rests on my forearm like a piece of cold marble, her fingers digging into the fabric of my suit jacket every time someone approaches us.

It makes me uncomfortable. I hate not knowing what’s going on in her head, and right now, I want to know more than anything. I try to tell myself to mind my own damn business, but there is something about Rosalia that makes me want to unearth every secret she’s hiding. I want to peel off every layer until there’s nothing left to hide.

I hate that there are things about her that I do not know.

Just as we turn away from greeting another guest and telling them to enjoy the night, I lean down toward Rosalia, about to ask her exactly what the issue is.

Before I can get a word out, a loud shriek shatters the low hum of conversation.

"Rosy!"

We both turn toward the edge of the patio. It’s her sisters, accompanied by their husbands—powerful men I recognize instantly from business circles, even if we've never been friends.

I give a brief, respectful nod to the men, while Rosalia's sisters bypass every boundary of high-society decorum and launch themselves into a group hug.

"Rosy! It's so good to see you!"

Rosalia glances up at me, and I immediately read the silent plea in her eyes—she wants to be alone with her sisters.

I pull back slightly, breaking the physical contact, but before I step away, I nod at the women standing in front of us. "Hello, ladies. We haven’t officially met."

Rosalia offers a stiff, tight-lipped smile. "Ladies, meet Dominic."

I immediately hate how she addresses me—just Dominic. No 'my husband,' no warm follow-up or proper introduction. I'm her fucking husband.

She turns to face me, her tone cool and practical. "Dominic, meet three of my sisters: Sienna, Eleonora, and Camilla."

"Nice to meet you, Dominic," they say, greeting me politely enough, though I don't miss the sharp wariness flickering behind their eyes. They're sizing me up, looking for the threat.

I keep my expression smooth and hospitable. "I'm sorry we rushed the wedding on such short notice, but please, enjoy the party."

Their guarded posture softens, a few genuine smiles breaking through. "Thank you, Dominic."

I give Rosalia one last, deliberate look, offering her a brief nod before turning on my heel and stepping away to give them space. I don't get more than five paces toward the bar before Keane materializes by my side like a shadow.

He sidles up next to me, hands thrust casually into his trousers pockets. "Hey, Dom. The Command Council is here."

I groan, rubbing the bridge of my nose as I glance over toward the tables near the garden fountain. "Do I really have to deal with them right now?"