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CHAPTER 9

AURORA

B efore I could respond, he snatched my hand in his and dragged me out of the restaurant. I could feel a thousand eyes on us, but kept my head lowered, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. I had learned my lesson.

Two valets with strained expressions were waiting by Roman’s car. The moment we appeared, they opened both car doors and stepped aside. Roman held my hand as I got into the passenger seat and then slammed the door shut. After handing the valet a fifty-pound note, he got behind the wheel and we sped away.

After several minutes of tense silence, my stomach growled. The sound echoed around the silent car. I wrapped my arms around my middle as I clenched my stomach, willing it not to growl again.

Roman cursed under his breath before taking a turn so sharply, my shoulder bumped into his as my body slid to the side in my seat.

Despite being curious as to where he was taking me, I kept my lips firmly pressed together. I had pushed his buttons enough for one night.

Roman eased into a parking space on Whitcomb Street. He popped the boot of his car before getting out. As I watched through the side mirror, Roman lifted out what looked like a folded blanket.

Oh, God. He was going to kill me and wrap me up in that blanket before burying my body!

I took a deep breath. It was an irrational thought. There were people everywhere. We were in the center of London. Even Roman wouldn’t get away with killing me in front of all of these witnesses… or would he? Oh, God!

Roman opened my door.

I stayed seated.

He held out his hand, palm up. He draped the blanket over his other arm. “Aurora?”

I stared at his hand. The hand that had given me both pleasure and pain. The metal band of what was probably an impossibly expensive watch was just visible beneath his crisp white shirt cuff with the sterling silver cufflinks in the shape of some kind of crest. Seeing no other option, I reached with my shaking hand and took his. His warm hand closed around mine and lifted me out of the car.

As I stood on the curb, casting an uncertain glance around me, Roman shook out the folded blanket and placed it over my shoulders. It was so long it dragged along the pavement.

“I’m fine. I have your jacket.”

Roman smirked. He tapped the end of my nose. “Humor me. I have no desire to break more arms this evening.”

My cheeks flamed. I lowered my head and hid behind a cascade of curls that covered my face.

Roman put a protective hand at my lower back and led me forward. In less than a block, we crossed into the chaos of Leicester Square. I had always loved this part of London. There was a hum and energy to it. It wasn’t as touristy and loud as Piccadilly Circus, but always had a bustle of people and street performers. I also loved the new installation of whimsical film statues.

He led me past Paddington Bear and Harry Potter over to the bronze statue of Gene Kelly from Singin ’ in the Rain . Beneath the statue’s outstretched arm was a small fish and chips cart.

The heavyset man standing under the cheery hunter green and white awning called out a greeting to Roman. “Roman! How are you, my friend?”

Roman smiled warmly. The sight caught me by surprise. I blinked several times, trying to process what was happening.

Roman removed his hand from my back and shook the purveyor’s hand. “Good evening, Hamish. This is my girlfriend, Aurora.”

His girlfriend?

Seriously, what is happening?

Hamish bowed his head and smiled broadly. “I should have known a man like you would pick a beauty.”

Roman laughed as he unhooked his cufflinks and dropped them in his trouser pocket. He slowly rolled up his dress shirt sleeves, exposing his tanned forearms. “Two orders of your finest, Hamish.”

Hamish bowed a second time. “Coming right up!”

I raised a hand to touch the side of my head, feeling for a bump. Perhaps I’d banged my head harder than I thought back at the restaurant.

Hamish wrapped the piping hot order of breaded cod and chips with a flourish in wax paper printed to look like old newsprint. Roman handed him yet another fifty-pound note and nodded his thanks as he took both orders.

I clutched at the blanket wrapped over my shoulders as I followed Roman back to the wooden bench where a jolly statue of Paddington Bear sat eating a marmalade sandwich. Roman brushed off the seat with a napkin before gesturing for me to sit.

Roman sat beside me. He waited until I got settled before handing me my order. “Careful, it’s hot.”

I gingerly pinched my fingers over the end of the battered cod. Breaking off a piece, I popped it into my mouth. I opened my lips and breathed out steam as the bit burned my tongue.

Roman chuckled as he also broke off a piece. “I warned you.”

I closed my eyes as the salty, buttery taste melted in my mouth. “This tastes like heaven.”

“Best fish and chips in London.”

I nibbled on the end of a chip as I watched Roman eat another bite. I ate the rest of the chip and brushed the salt off my fingertips. “What’s happening?”

Roman shrugged. “Our dinner was interrupted.” He cast a sardonic glance in my direction. I raised my chin and ignored it. “So, I needed to feed you.”

I broke off another piece of cod and ate it, chewing slowly.

Roman leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs as he casually watched the passersby and ate.

Usually, when there was silence between us, it was the calm before the violent thunderstorm. This was different. It was just… silence … and it was freaking me out.

After taking a few more bites of fish, I set the order to the side of me on the bench and lightly brushed my fingertips over my lips to dislodge any salt kernels that had stuck to my lipstick. I angled my knees toward Roman. “Okay, what’s your game?”

He glanced at me over his shoulder but said nothing. He returned to eating.

“I don’t know what’s happening, but,” I gestured between us, “this, whatever this is , isn’t us.”

He crumpled up his empty wax paper, raised his arm and tossed it in the bin several feet away. He then settled his arm on the back of the bench and turned to face me. “What do you mean?”

His facial expression was serene as he quirked his eyebrow as if in confusion. I wasn’t buying it. I wasn’t the crazy one here, although he often made me question my sanity.

“This! This isn’t normal. Well, it is normal,” I blustered, “but not normal for us. We don’t do cute dates in the park with takeaway food.”

“Are you not having fun?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know!” Tossing the blanket and his jacket off my shoulders, I rose and paced in front of him. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

Roman leaned back, stretching both arms over the back of the bench, looking like the Cheshire cat with his mock-innocent gaze. “Doing what, my love?”

Once again, I gestured wildly between us. “This! Acting all normal and boyfriend-y and shit.” I stretched out my hand and counted off on my fingers. “Not yelling at me after what happened in the restaurant.” I tapped the end of another finger. “Calling me your girlfriend .” I tapped a third finger. “Taking me to Leicester Square to eat food from a freaking cart as if that is something you do every day.”

Roman raised his arm and waved to Hamish, who waved back. “Well, not every day, but…”

I shook my head as I planted my fists on my hips. “No. Nope. Not a chance. I’m not buying it. Roman Winterbourne as a normal guy? Please. What are you up to?”

Roman sighed as he brushed salt off his trousers. “Aurora, will you please sit down? You are causing a scene and people are staring.”

I stamped my foot. I knew I looked like a petulant child, but I didn’t care. “I will not sit down, and you can’t make me!”

In one swift move, Roman rose, wrapped his arm around my waist, and spun me around until my back was against a large, ancient oak tree. It partially concealed us behind its wide trunk.

He braced his forearm against the tree and leaned over me. He stroked my cheek with the backs of his knuckles before wrapping his hand around my throat. His lips brushed mine when he spoke. “I knew it. Admit it, baby girl. You like the monster.”

I opened my mouth to object but shut it when he gently squeezed my throat.

“Don’t try to deny it. I disappointed you when I didn’t tear this fucking dress off your body and whip you with my belt the moment you came down those stairs this evening.”

My eyes widened. Once again, it was as if he had read my deepest, most twisted inner thoughts.

I couldn’t make a response, but he didn’t expect one.

He shifted closer, pressing his hips against my stomach. The feel of his erection only highlighting the danger I was in. I didn’t think for a moment that all these people around us would stop Roman from flipping up my dress and fucking me senseless.

He ruthlessly continued, “You like being dominated and punished.”

At this, I finally spoke up. My voice hitched and cracked. “No, I don’t.”

His tongue flicked out and traced my bottom lip. “You’re lying. You enjoyed knowing you were pushing me to the edge at the restaurant. You knew that asshole would follow you to the restroom.”

“I didn’t! I swear!”

As if I hadn’t spoken, he continued, his tone getting harsher. “You’re a bloodthirsty little wench. Begging another man for rent money in France. Making a spectacle of yourself in this dress so some stranger would hit on you. Tossing aside the blanket I used to cover you and then making yet another scene, hoping some man would buy into your damsel in distress routine and challenge me. It’s all to get a reaction from me .”

My head swam. He was turning things around. It was he who liked to play games, not me . Why was what he was saying sounding so logical? I shook my head.

He bit down on my earlobe before saying, “Is that what you want, baby? Did it turn you on to see me take care of that bastard back at the restaurant?”

He reached under my dress hem and palmed my pussy.

I moaned as I clawed at his shirt. “Please don’t do this, not here.”

He pushed the hand around my throat higher, up against my jaw, tilting my head back as far as the rough tree trunk would allow. “You say you want the gentleman. Act like you despise being under my control, and it’s all a fucking lie. I just proved it. You don’t want the sweet and considerate gentleman, you want the beast.”

I shifted one of my hands to grip the wrist holding my throat as I whispered, “That’s not true.”

“If I forced you to your knees and ordered you to swallow my cock, right here, right now, you’d do it.”

Tears of shame sprang to my eyes. “I wouldn’t!”

Now I was definitely lying. Roman had a hold over me like no other. If he commanded me, I’d drop to the ground like his obedient little whore and we both knew it.

Fuck, I needed to get away from this man before he destroyed what little dignity I had left.

He pressed his palm against my already wet pussy to further humiliate me. “Let tonight be a lesson to you, little one. Don’t play games you can’t win. The next time you try starting something with me, I won’t be so accommodating.”

A tear ran down my cheek. Here I had thought I was being so sassy and defiant by wearing this dress and pushing his buttons and all along, he was just playing with me. I was still just a helpless butterfly caught in his killing jar.