Page 98 of Bound in Ruin

"I've got you, I've got you," I breathe harshly against her hair, my chest heaving as I cup her face and press desperate, hot kisses over her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. I scan every inch of her, checking for blood, for tears in her clothes. She isn't hurt. She isn't bleeding. But she’s shaking so hard she can barely stand.

A dark, blinding fury boils in my gut—raging at myself for letting that damn fire pull me away from her side.

Keane rushes up behind us, taking in the carnage with a grim face.

"I'm taking her home right now," I order Keane, my voice a dangerous, low vibrate. "Stay here. Call for backup, clear the road, and deal with the dead. Send me every single one of their names tonight, Keane. We're going to make sure their families are taken care of for the rest of their lives."

"Understood, Boss," Keane says firmly.

I don't let go of Rosalia for a single second. I usher her into the back of a car, pulling her flush against my chest the entire ride back, my arms wrapped around her like steel bands. I keep her close, staring out the tinted windows with barely controlled rage, ready to put a bullet through anyone who even looks at this car wrong.

When we finally pull into the gates of the estate, I don't even let her walk. I step out, pull her up into my arms, and carry her straight through the front doors.

Helena rushes into the foyer, her eyes wide with panic as she sees us. "Dominic! What happened? Is she⁠—"

"Not now, Helena!" I snap, my tone so sharp and lethal it cuts her off mid-sentence.

I carry Rosalia straight up the grand staircase and into our private suite, kicking the heavy wooden doors shut behind us.

"Dominic, I'm fine," she whispers softly, her voice small and trembling as I set her feet gently onto the carpet. "Really, I'm fine..."

I look at her, my jaw clenching. She’s trying to be strong, but I can see right through it—the wide, haunted look in her eyes, the faint quiver in her lips. She is terrified.

"I want to take a bath," she murmurs, staring down at her boots.

"Okay," I say instantly, stepping past her into the bathroom.

I hurry over to the large tub, turning the handles to draw a hot bath, pouring in soothing oils until the water steams. I step back out to where she's standing, gently unbuttoning her coat, sliding the heavy fabric off her shoulders, and helping her out of her clothes with slow, careful hands.

She steps into the warm water, sinking down until it hits her chest.

Without bothering to take off my own clothes, I climb right up to the edge of the tub, reaching down and wrapping my arms around her. I pull her back against my chest, settling into the warm water with her. The fabric of my dress shirt and trousers gets completely soaked, but I don't give a single fuck.

I just wrap my arms tighter around her, resting my chin on her shoulder, letting her feel the solid weight of my body holding her safely.

"Can you talk to me?" I ask softly against her skin, my voice a quiet rumble over the sound of the gently rippling water.

A tiny, breathless chuckle escapes her lips, though it carries no real humor. "Yes," she whispers, leaning her head back against my shoulder. "It was Dante."

"I know," I say grimly, my jaw tightening until it hurts. "I already knew."

She takes a deep, shaky breath, her fingers tightening over my wet sleeves. Then, the words start spilling out of her—the truth about what happened on that road. She tells me about the blade pressed against her throat, the way he dragged her by her hair, and the poisonous ultimatum he delivered: yield every single piece of Luciano's legacy to him at the arbitration, or he would put a bullet in my head and make her watch me die.

By the time she finishes, the rage inside me is an inferno. My whole body goes rigid, blood pounding in my ears with a lethal, violent rhythm.

"Dominic..." she whispers, turning slightly in my arms, her eyes searching mine with a terrifying vulnerability. "I can't let him kill you."

"Listen to me," I say, my tone absolute as I frame her face with both hands, ignoring the water dripping from my cuffs. "Nothing bad is going to happen to me. Do you hear me? Dante is a dead man walking. You are not surrendering a single document, a single code, or a single cent to him on Monday. I promise you."

The raw fear, the crushing relief, and the sudden, overwhelming need between us shift the air in the bathroom entirely.

Rosalia doesn't answer with words. She reaches out, grabbing the lapels of my soaked shirt, and pulls my mouth down to hers in a fierce, desperate kiss.

It’s not slow; it’s frantic, needy, and electric. I kiss her back just as hard, but as her hands slide down my chest, I try to gently pull back, breathing heavily against her lips. "Rosalia, wait... You've had a traumatic night, sweetheart. I don't want to hurt you."

She lets out a sharp, impatient hiss against my mouth. "You're not going to hurt me."

Without dropping her gaze, her hand slides down into the warm water, reaching between us. Her fingers move with swift, unyielding purpose, undoing my belt and zipping down my fly. She reaches inside, pulling my aching, fully hard cock free into the cool air above the waterline.