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CHAPTER 14

AURORA

I stared at my reflection in the hallway mirror. Leaning in, I pinched my cheeks to bring some color to my pale complexion. I sighed. There was no hiding. I hadn’t slept a wink last night.

Roman had never come to bed.

I had spent the entire night crying into my pillow. I hadn’t realized how much comfort I drew from his strong presence next to me in bed. Each time I fell into a troubled sleep, I would find myself reaching for his warmth. The moment his strong arms didn’t encircle me, I would wake up and just start crying all over again as I clutched at his pillow, inhaling the lingering scent of his cologne.

Countless times, I had walked to our bedroom door and stopped, my hand on the doorknob. I wanted to go to him. I wanted to tell him I’d changed my mind. I wanted to beg him to propose again, but each time I pulled back. As much as my heart might break now, it would be nothing compared to the devastation I would feel if I had said yes. I knew deep down that I would trap myself in a loveless marriage. No amount of money or security could compensate for the cold desolation I would feel once Roman’s affections turned elsewhere. And they would.

I wasn’t a fool. I was significantly younger than him. Eventually another woman who was older, more sophisticated and accomplished would catch his eye. I would be left a hollowed-out shell.

No, my first answer had been the correct one. I could never marry Roman.

I knew him preventing me from leaving last night had only been his anger at being rejected. He’d probably tell me to get the fuck out of his house the moment he set eyes on me this morning.

It would be for the best. Forcing me to leave would actually save me from myself because, in this moment, I wasn’t sure I would leave of my own accord. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Thank God it hadn’t been in the duffel bag Roman had tossed in the fire.

Eleanor had been texting me all night. I finally texted her back this morning. As soon as Roman left, I was sneaking out to meet her at my favorite museum to explain everything.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to face the dining room doors.

Time to get this over with…

I checked to see that the lock was unhooked and pulled on the latches. The double pocket doors silently disappeared into the wall. Not surprisingly, Roman’s dining room wasn’t so much a dining room as it was a medieval hall. It was part of the annexed building of the gothic church he had added when he converted it into a home. Roman had retained a gothic splendor with massive tapestries and an enormous gargoyle-flanked stone fireplace that was so tall I could stand in it.

Roman was already sitting at the end of the long, natural wood-edged table.

His appearance shocked me. I was accustomed to seeing impeccably tailored suits in the mornings as he prepared to go to the office. Today he was still wearing the tuxedo he wore last night without the jacket and bow tie. There was a deep five o’clock shadow on his jaw and dark circles under his eyes. In a strange way, it pleased me to know he had gotten little more sleep than I.

“Good morning,” I said softly as I slid into the high-backed chair to his right.

He remained silent. His eyes were transfixed on me as the tip of his finger slowly circled the edge of his coffee cup.

I coughed to clear my throat. “About last night?—”

Before I could continue, a servant entered. He was carrying a silver tray with a single cloche-covered dish on it. He placed the dish in front of me, bowed and left the room, softly closing the double doors that I had deliberately left ajar.

I frowned. Usually the servants set up a small breakfast on the sidebar for Roman and me. I was used to just helping myself to spoonfuls of fluffy scrambled eggs, stewed tomatoes, and sausages. I stared at the covered dish as I kept my hands folded in my lap.

“Eat.”

I started at the sound of Roman’s voice. His command seemed to echo off the wooden-rafter walls.

“I was waiting for you to be served.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a macabre imitation of a smile. “I insist.”

My gaze returned to the dish in front of me. With a shaking hand, I lifted the silver-domed cloche off my plate. There was no food.

In the center of the plate was the engagement ring Roman had proposed with last night.

My heart raced. I stared at the ring as if at any moment it was going to spring to life and kill me.

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “Put it on your finger.”

I licked my lips. “Roman?—”

“Put. It. On.” He ground out each word as if it were crushed glass beneath his teeth.

My vision blurred. “I can’t.”

“So help me God, Aurora. If you don’t put that fucking ring on your finger, I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

“You can’t threaten someone into marrying you.”

“Watch me.”

I slammed the cloche back down on the plate and rose. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

Roman stood up so abruptly the heavy chair he was sitting on flew backward and slammed against the wall.

I ran for the double doors and pulled at the latches. Nothing happened. I pulled again. They didn’t move. Roman must have had the servant lock us in. I turned as Roman approached. Casting a hurried glance around the room, I fled to the other side of the long table as I raced toward the other exit.

“It’s locked.”

I skidded to a halt and turned to face him. “Let me out of here.”

“No.”

“Roman, let me out of here.”

“No. You wanted to talk, so talk.”

I shook my head. He must have thought I was insane. There was no way I was going to try to have a reasonable conversation with him in this state. I stuck my chin up. “There’s no point in talking. My answer is still the same. No.”

He circled around the table, a predator stalking its prey. “Perhaps you don’t fully understand the consequences of saying no to me.”

I slid my right hand over the tops of the chairs to guide me as I backed quickly away from him. For a half second, I thought about using one of the massive silver candlesticks in the center of the table to break the Tudor-style casement windows that lined one side of the dining hall. Unfortunately, I knew the diamond-shaped wrought-iron grid would prevent my escape, even if I managed to lift and throw the heavy candlestick.

Out of breath from circling around the table trying to stay several steps ahead of him, I desperately pleaded, “Why do we have to marry? We’ve only been together a few months.”

I wasn’t watching where I was going and tripped backward over a displaced fold in the Persian carpet. I cried out as I helplessly grasped at air. I knew with dawning horror that the stone fireplace was directly behind me. If I hit my head on one of the gargoyles, it would be fatal.

A primal roar erupted from Roman as he lunged.

He grasped me around the waist and wrenched me into his arms a hairsbreadth before I would have contacted the sharp limestone and marble edge of one of the gargoyle wings. He drove his hands into my hair. “Are you hurt?”

I blinked several times, still stunned by what almost happened.

“Aurora, are you hurt?”

His fingers searched my scalp as he cupped the back of my skull.

My head tilted up to meet his terrified gaze. “No… I don’t think so.”

HIs jaw hardened as a small tic appeared in his upper cheek. He bared his teeth as he growled, “You stupid little fool.”

His lips crashed down onto mine. He tasted of fear and desperation. With his hand in my hair, he pulled me forward, crushing me in his embrace as his mouth moved over mine, stealing my air. Once more, I felt as if I were thrown into the middle of a tempest. His hands were everywhere at once, clawing at my clothes as his tongue dueled with mine.

He walked us back until my body slammed into the wall. Lifting my arm over my head, he interlaced his fingers in mine and pressed our palms together. His other hand tore at the buttons on my blouse. I could hear the plastic click and rattle as the buttons hit the stone floor and scattered around us. He moved his mouth over my jawline and down my neck, biting and licking my flesh.

“Give in to me, darling. Be my wife,” he groaned against my skin.

My heart splintered into a million pieces.

He released my hand and gripped me under my thighs, lifting me off the floor. I wrapped my legs around his hips and he stepped closer, grinding his engorged cock against my core as he recaptured my lips.

My arms encircled his neck as I pulled him closer.

This was what I wanted, what I craved.

His fierce passion.

His domineering presence.

If only we could go back to this and forget all about talk of marriage. If only we could just live in this twisted, fucked-up, toxic moment.

When I didn’t respond, Roman pulled back. He wrapped his hand around my throat and pushed it high, just below my jaw, anchoring my head against the wall. “Answer me, Aurora.”

My vision blurred. “Please, don’t make me.”

His gaze narrowed. “Last chance, baby girl. Are you going to put on my ring?” He pushed the words past anger-thinned lips.

I swallowed. Part of me wanted to lie and say yes, but I knew that would cause even more problems. Despite the palpable danger, I couldn’t lie to him. Nor could I form the words to tell him no. All I could do was slowly shake my head as the tears rolled down my cheeks.

Roman snatched me around the waist and violently swung away from the wall. He tossed me onto the empty end of the massive dining hall table as if I were no more than a rag doll. Sobbing, I braced my palms against the polished wood surface and shifted onto my knees in an attempt to climb off the table.

Roman stretched his arm out to me, pointed, and growled, “Don’t you fucking move.”

I stayed on my hands and knees, watching him prowl back and forth.

He rubbed his hand over his unshaven jaw. “What do you think is going to happen here, Aurora?”

“I… I… don’t know.”

“You think I’m just going to let you go? You think I’ll let you just walk out of my life so you can go and fuck some other man?”

I shook my head. “Oh, God, Roman, I would never do that. I don’t want any other man. I only want you.”

He stopped pacing and stormed toward me. He pounded his fist on the table. “You’re lying. I already caught you trying to run into another man’s arms. Turning to another man for protection.”

“That was a misunderstanding. Please, Roman.”

I watched as his chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. The tense silence stretched as he flexed his hands open before curling them into fists several times. When he finally spoke again, my whole body jumped in reaction.

“Take off your clothes.”

I frowned, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor.

He flung the two chairs that separated us away, sending them crashing against the wall. “Take. Off. Your. Clothes.”

I clutched at the open shreds of my silk blouse, unwilling to obey his terrifying command.

Roman forced my hands away and tore at what remained of the blouse, tossing it aside. I was left in my cream lace bra, panties, short plaid skirt, and black leather knee-high boots.

I crouched low, feeling exposed and on display on the table.

“Take off the rest.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Roman reached for the buckle of his belt. “If you won’t be my wife, then you’ll be my whore.”