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CHAPTER 4

ROMAN

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Dark, soulless eyes stared back.

They were the hollow eyes of a monster and for the very first time in my life, I was ashamed.

I turned the faucet on and splashed cold water on my face, hoping to shake off the feeling. Taking a deep breath, I surveyed my expression again. Nothing changed.

She hated me.

No, hate was too prosaic of a word. She despised me.

From the moment they thrust me into this world as an unwanted, orphaned bastard, they had made me beg for the slightest crust of bread given to me. I was told I should be grateful when given ripped and torn charity shop clothes. They made me smile and grovel when handed a cold bowl of weak broth as my only meal of the day. The smallest show of kindness always came at a price, one that they forced me to pay over and over again for my survival.

I swore the moment I broke free of the system, I would make my own way in the world, and never again be forced to accept the charity of others. And I didn’t just mean material goods. I never sought nor did I want anyone’s love. In my experience, love came with conditions. Someone always wanted something in return. I knew I would never be beholden to anyone in that regard. I had made my way in the world without a mother’s or father’s love. I didn’t need anyone. Fuck them all.

Through sheer will and determination, I had turned the tables. Now I was the one they came begging to for a crust of bread. Now I had the power to make them grovel on their knees for the slightest kindness. Now I was the one in control.

And now I was the one who had taken it too far…

I stared at my reflection, looking for some sign, some indication of how a silly slip of a girl had somehow changed the rules of the game on me.

There had been plenty of women in my past who had tried to get the upper hand. Who had plied me with false affection in vain attempts to secure my heart… and my wealth. I had used and discarded each and every one of them. Aurora wasn’t even the first to pretend she didn’t want or need my money. Did she really think no other woman had tried to return a piece of jewelry or turn down a trip to some exotic location because she loved me for me and not my net worth? Or the first woman to pretend she hated me to capture my interest? This game was as old as time, and I had already played it countless ways.

Yet somehow, Aurora was different.

It wasn’t just that I was starting to believe she truly didn’t care about my money or the luxuries I could buy her. Or that her hatred of me wasn’t just a ploy to keep me interested in the chase. It was far worse.

I was starting to give a damn.

It bothered me that every kiss, every touch, every caress had to be forced on her. I craved her willing embrace. I didn’t want her in my bed because she had no other choice. I didn’t even want her there because of the passionate orgasms I gave her. I wanted her to want to be in my bed. I wanted her to want to touch me. I wanted her to roll over in the middle of the night and seek the warmth of my arms.

It was insanity.

Suddenly, I wanted to be the type of man she would run to for help.

I wanted to be the hero in her story, not the villain.

My stomach twisted as every cell in my body rebelled against my wayward thoughts.

Heroes were weak. They were easily led by their emotions, a dangerous thing.

True, I wanted her to love me, to need me, to want me, but I had no intention of ever returning that emotion. To do so would be madness. It would be inviting in a lack of control over my life that I hadn’t felt since I was a child. A lack of control I had promised myself I would never, ever feel again as long as I lived. Never again would I return to a time when I yearned for the slightest show of affection.

Damn her.

Damn her for making me even question my motives.

Damn her for making me feel something.

She was my possession, nothing more.

A plaything I had gained through cold-hearted manipulation.

When I told her what we had was beyond love, I meant it. Love was for the weak. It was a useless emotion that left you vulnerable. Power and control were the strong emotions. Knowing you had someone’s entire existence in the palm of your hand, that was something to strive for, to attain, to possess. Of course, I was obsessed with her, but that came from my deep-seated desire to always be in complete control at all times.

I am obsessed with her because I want to own her, not love her.

That didn’t mean I didn’t want her to love me.

I wanted her to love me above all others.

I could capture her body. I could play with her mind, but I couldn’t force her heart. That was the only thing she could keep from me. The only thing I couldn’t possess at the snap of my fingers.

I could feel my anger rising again.

She had gone behind my back. She had planned another escape almost from the very moment I stopped her last one. She had begged another man for help—for help in getting away from me. It was unacceptable.

She was mine, goddammit.

The sooner she accepted that fact, the sooner I would stop hurting her.

How dare she think she could best me in this game?

How dare she make me question my motives?

Did she not realize she tempted the devil himself?

She wouldn’t win. I wouldn’t let her win. This was my game, and we would play it by my rules.

I raised my fist and punched the mirror. It shattered into a thousand jagged pieces.

Ignoring the sharp sting of pain in my hand, I continued to stare at my fractured reflection.

My moment of weakness was gone.

My resolve hardened.

She would not win. I would not let her win.

My heart wasn’t the one in danger. It never would be.

Fuck wanting her to love me. I would settle for owning her, controlling her, fucking her .

She was my pretty little possession. I would use her for my own pleasure. In time, she would learn to love me. She had no choice. It would be the only way she’d survive.

I raised my fist to my lips and sucked the droplets of blood off my knuckles.

In the meantime, I needed to move quickly to make her formally mine in the eyes of God and man.

She will be my wife, my prized possession, for all time.

And she could keep her love… I’d take everything else, including her freedom.

I clenched my jaw. I actually almost believed myself.