I might not be sure about many things at this point in my life. But of this, I was sure: No one—no one—not even Lucian, would ever take her away from me. Ever!
Chapter 23 – Scarlett
A few days had passed since the mind-blowing sex that left me questioning everything I thought I knew about this man. The more I tried to get him out of my head, the longer he stayed.
I wasn’t expecting that night to turn out the way it did, which is why the whole thing hit me differently. Every time I was alone, I’d replay the incident from start to finish, reveling in the sensation that came with the memory.
I would always end up wet and craving him so badly. With everything happening at the moment, I wasn’t sure what I wanted anymore, and a part of me hated myself for being so confused.
This shouldn’t even be up for debate. Roman was a monster who kidnapped me and forced me to marry him just because he had a beef with my father. I should hate his guts and jump on every opportunity to get the hell out of here.
I shouldn’t be distracted by how good his dick was or how skilled he was with his hands and mouth. Sure, the man knew how to please me; he was excellent at exploring a woman’s body. He was so good in bed that even without penetrating me, he somehow managed to make me come.
I’d only seen techniques like that in movies or read about them in erotic novels. Never did I expect to experience it firsthand. Maybe I was still new to this, but I honestly didn’t think that making a woman come with just the tongue was a thing.
I used to think oral sex was exaggerated—maybe that was because no one had touched me the way Roman did. It was as if a veil had been lifted from my face, and my eyes were finally opened. I didn’t realize what I’d been missing until he showed me in the best possible way.
He didn’t rush it, didn’t make it about his own desires either. Instead, he took his time to explore my body, to better understand how to please me. That night was all about me, all about branding me as his own.
I still couldn’t believe that I’d damned the consequences of my actions and said the things I said to him. I praised the way he touched me and even confessed to loving his hands on me. As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, I also admitted to being his property.
He didn’t have to force me to say it, nor did he have to cajole me—I said what I said of my own free will. And at the moment, I meant every single word.
I hadn’t admitted it yet, but that night, Roman earned a fraction of my respect. Not just because he listened to my body and satisfied me in ways I didn’t dream of. But because he was able to get me to confess my inner thoughts without even saying a word.
He was a real man.
If only he were more human and less of a monster, my stay here would not be all that bad. But at the end of the day, he was what he was, and I didn’t think I could change that.
We hadn’t spoken since that night, and I barely saw him these days. He always left for work too early, before I woke up, and returned too late at night, after I’d fallen asleep.
I couldn’t tell whether it was a coincidence or his cruel way of avoiding me. But why would he want to avoid me? Was he already tired of my presence?
These questions and more kept overlapping in my mind. However, the most important one I’d been asking myself was why I cared so much.
If he decided it was best to avoid me like the plague, then he should keep his distance. So what if I hadn’t seen him in a while—it wasn’t like I was missing him or anything like that.
What was there to miss, anyway? Our fights? His commanding presence? His intimidating look, or the intoxicating scent of his expensive cologne?
With or without him, I’d survive, and I’d be okay. I’d been a loner all my life anyway, and thanks to my father, I was already used to people ghosting me.
Deep down, I knew I was starting to feel attached to this man, and his absence felt heavier by the day. Honestly, it unsettled me more than I cared to admit, leaving my mood constantly clouded.
I was sitting in the chair by the window that afternoon, my legs pulled up in front of me. My mind was a tangled mess, my thoughts jumbled together in a way that made my head ache. I sat there in silence, trying to make sense of my situation and understand my husband-slash-captor.
Just then, I heard a knock on the door, soft and gentle. At first, I was almost startled, thinking it was him, but then I remembered that knocking was the last thing he’d ever do.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“It’s me, ma’am,” a gentle voice replied from the outside.
I recognized it.
“Come in, it’s open.”
The door creaked slightly, and she walked in, her head bowed in reverence. Her footsteps were soundless against the floor as she walked toward me.
“Hi, ma’am,” she greeted me.
