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“What point?” I respond flippantly. Because, somewhere along the line, I lost the plot.
“Nothing,” she bites. “I should go to bed. It’s late.”
“Don’t be delusional, printsessa,” I say as she walks away, frustration etched in her steps. “You think that at any point you were in control?”
She pauses and turns, and I see unshed tears in her eyes.
My jaw clenches as a stab of guilt, of self-hate, punches through my chest. I shouldn’t have touched her. I was trying to prove a point, but I could’ve done it any other way.
Instead, I let my frustration take over. I made her pay the price for my troubled emotions. I knew how to break her, and I did because I couldn’t handle the fact that, for a moment, I felt something deeper than lust.
“What other lessons do you have to teach me?” she asks, hurt bleeding through her voice. “That it’d be a mistake to think you capable of anything remotely humane? That you’re a cold, manipulative bastard who I should have no sympathy for?”
No.Yes.I don’t want her to see me any other way, because I’ll never be the man she deserves, the one I know she wants. Beneath the tough, stubborn exterior, I know what she wants—kindness, love, everything my world doesn’t accommodate.
“Yes.” I nod, dragging my hand across my face. “Yes,goddammit.” My words are harsh and rough, tinged with the same frustration I tried to bury when I made love to her. “This isn’t a fairy tale. I am not on your side. You’re the daughter of the man who killed my father in cold blood, and I took you as a trophy, nothing more.”
“I see.” She nods slowly, her lashes fluttering rapidly.
She turns away for a moment, shutting her eyes. Then she faces me with a thin smile on her lips. “You’re saying I shouldn’t havesaved you.” She laughs bitterly, biting down on her lip. “I guess I’m not as smart as you thought, then.”
My chest burns with more guilt as she continues, “But you seem to be mistaken about one thing, Roman. Ichoseto sleep with you. The sex?” She clicks her tongue. “It happened because I wanted it to. There’s a big difference between lust and love, and I promise you, I’m nowhere near the latter. You’re the last person I’d ever fall in love with.”
She exhales loudly, smooths her hands down her chest, and marches off without another word, leaving me in stifling, suffocating silence.
This is what I wanted.
For her to hate me the way she did when I threw her over my shoulder and took her from the cathedral. It wasn’t supposed to be a marriage with feelings or empathy—Isabella Ricci was my trophy bride, a punishment for her father, and a warning to everyone else.
I succeeded in reminding her of her position.
And yet?—
My nails dig into my palms as I clench my fists, and my jaw aches from how hard it clenches, holding back a flood of fury and much more than I can admit—all of it directed atme.
Myself.
Because it should be a victory, yet all I feel is raw and stripped bare, down to the bone.
“Fucking hell,” I snarl as I stand, heading toward the kitchen. I need a fucking drink.
Something, any-bloody-thing to keep Isabella out of my head before it’s too late.
17
ISABELLA
By the time I get to my bedroom, my tears have dried, and the urge to slam the door shut has disappeared, along with my anger. I sink into my bed, arms spread out on either side.
A quiet, gnawing sensation is digging a hole through my stomach—regret.
Not because I called Leo and saved Roman from getting killed. That was just…keeping my father from having the upper hand. It was my personal revenge for his secrecy and his selfishness.
Not for patching Roman up.No.It’s because I let him touch me. For not pushing him away when he kissed me, for yielding when he had me against the wall, baring my vulnerability to his control.
I could’ve stopped when he told me I was being foolish, when he whispered in my ear that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have saved me. I should’ve walked away, gathering the shreds of my self-esteem.
But I didn’t.