Page 38 of Bound in Ruin

"Luciano? No. The intelligence we pulled suggested he kept her under lock and key, but physical abuse wasn't on the record. Why?"

"I saw scars," I say, keeping the description bare and guarded. I don't owe him the details, but I need the truth. "Fresh enough to be recent, enough of them to mean it happened more than once."

Keane’s jaw tightens. "Dominic..."

"Dig deeper," I order, pointing a finger at him. "Gather every piece of information on Rosalia and Luciano’s dynamic. Beyond the basic intel we already have. I want to know every room she stayed in, every doctor they called to that house, and every guard that stood outside her door."

Keane gives a single, sharp nod. "Consider it done."

I grab the glass, knock back another shot of vodka, letting the burn coat my throat, and stride out of the office to find my wife.

Rosalia is already waiting for me when I reach the foyer. She smiles tentatively as I approach, her posture slightly guarded, as if she’s bracing herself for a barrage of invasive questions about the marks on her back.

Instead, I let a calm, reassuring smile touch my lips. The moment she sees it, I watch the tension leave her shoulders as she visibly relaxes.

Almost an hour later, we’re sitting in Dante’s executive office suite. Her lawyer is already seated beside us, briefcase open, reviewing notes.

Dante keeps us waiting for a full fifteen minutes.

By minute ten, I’m already fucking enraged. I’m certain he’s playing these pathetic little power moves because he thinks Rosalia came here alone and vulnerable. He doesn’t know I’m here, and he’s treating my wife with a total lack of respect. I'm going to have to rectify that real fast.

I’m completely up to date on their family feud. Dante firmly believes Rosalia was involved in his brother’s death, and he’s been using that paranoid theory to harass, bully, and victimize her ever since.

At 01:15 pm, the heavy double doors finally swing open, and Dante strides in. His smug expression vanishes the exact second his eyes land on me sitting in the leather armchair. I watch pure, unadulterated shock flash across his features before he quickly forces a neutral face and clears his throat.

"Mr. Kane," he greets, his tone tight. "I didn't expect you."

"Dante," I reply, forcing a sharp, hollow smile as I check the face of my watch. "We’ve been waiting for almost fifteen minutes. It’s not a good look for a man who claims to run a tight ship."

He clears his throat again, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he moves behind his desk, offering a reluctant, stiff apology. "I was held up with urgent business."

"You were the one who set this meeting for precisely one o'clock," I remind him, leaning back and resting my ankle over my knee. "If you set the time, you make damn sure you’re available for it."

Dante stands awkwardly behind his massive desk, his jaw clenching so hard I can hear his teeth grinding. He’s glaring at me, bristling at being dressed down in his own sanctuary. "Some circumstances cannot be foreseen, Kane."

He shifts his furious gaze over to Rosalia, his lip curling slightly. "In any case, this meeting was meant for Rosalia alone."

Before I can even open my mouth to tear him apart, Rosalia speaks up. Her voice is calm, steady, and cut through the room like a blade.

"Are you forgetting that I am married now, Dante?" she asks, tilting her head with cool disdain. "I have a husband. Where I go, he goes."

Dante looks like he’s about to have a full-blown aneurysm right then and there, his face turning a dark, mottled shade of crimson as he stares at the woman he thought he could intimidate.

I’ve always known Rosalia has teeth. I wonder why others can’t see that yet.

Dante swallows hard, his hands gripping the edge of his mahogany desk as he tries to regain control. "Congratulations on the wedding," he says, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

Rosalia opens her mouth, probably about to give him a polite, hollow thank you, when Dante cuts in, his voice morphing into an ugly, venomous sneer. "Although we both know why you rushed down the aisle. I’m very certain you killed my brother Luciano just so you could jump straight into Dominic Kane’s bed."

A dangerous surge of adrenaline hits my bloodstream. I’m about to rise out of my seat and break his jaw right over his desk, but Rosalia’s small, cool hand suddenly squeezes mine.

She doesn't flinch.

Instead, a light, melodic laugh escapes her lips.

"Tell me, Dante," she says, leaning forward with effortless elegance. "If you had a daughter, would you marry her off to an old pig like Luciano... or a handsome, young man like Dominic?"

Dante’s face turns a violent shade of dark crimson.