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“You live here?” My tone is filled with a disbelieving horror that has nothing to do with being in this decrepit building and everything to do with the thought of a child being in this place.

“No, angel,” he corrects gently. “I grew up here. I haven’t actually lived here in a very long time.” He walks to the center of the room, his expensive suit a jarring contrast to the squalor surrounding us. “I thought it was only fitting that this was our first…”

My jaw drops. “This was the property you took today… This?” The disgust is evident in my tone. Why would anyone with money want this?

“I did,” he confirms, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I wanted the building that took every dime my mother made to become the first I owned. For years, I was going to simply tear it to the ground, leave it nothing but a vacant lot so no one ever had to live here again.” He walks to the grimy window and looks out at the building across the alleyway. “But I’m going to turn it into a place my mother would’ve been proud to call her home.”

He points out the window to the adjacent building, which appears equally rundown. “And then I’ll add another. And another.” The feverish intensity of his voice grows with every word. “All of them. Until I own the whole fucking block.”

“The block?” I repeat, bewildered with interest.

“Yes.” He turns from the window, and his eyes are burning with an excitement that almost matches the way he usually looks at me. “And then half of fucking Chicago.”

Half of Chicago? My father, with all his generational wealth and influence, doesn’t own that much. Roman sounds crazed, possessed by a vision I can’t see.

“It’s the legacy that I’m going to leave to our sons,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Our what?” The question is a reflexive, knee-jerk reaction born of my resentment and the fact that our marriage has yet to even be consummated. We are strangers bound by blackmail… and a terrifying chemistry.

He crosses the small space, closing the distance between us in a few strides. His hand settles on my stomach, and he rubs it slowly. His voice is a deep rumble that vibrates through my entire body when he repeats himself. “Our sons.” Staring down at me, his eyes are dark with emotion that I could almost believe is adoration. “When you finally submit to me, angel,” he breathes, his palm still flush against my flat stomach, “I’m going to fill this body of yours with my babies.”

The primitive nature of words turns my stomach and makes my knees weak. He isn’t talking about love or family. He’s talking about claiming my body and using it to propagate his name. It’s a dirty, primal confession, and the heat it floods through my veins is a betrayal of everything I thought I knew.

I can’t breathe. I’m so speechless that I can’t even form a single coherent thought. I stare up at him, lost in the dark fire of his gaze. He holds my stare, watching me for a long moment with flickers of triumph in his eyes when he sees the war that I’m slowly losing with myself. Without another word, he turns on his heel and walks toward the door, leaving me standing in the center of this filthy place with my heart pounding against my ribs.

Fill this body of yours with my babies…

The words echo through my thoughts. While my gut reaction is to run for the door and scream for help, my hand drifts upward of its own volition until my fingers settle over where his rested only a moment ago. Flattening my palm over the empty plane of my stomach, a soothing warmth spreads under my touch.

Roman stops at the door, with his hand on the knob, before turning over his shoulder just enough that I can see his strong profile. “The building was my beginning, angel. A place of nothing but weakness and want.” His voice is quiet, but it carries the weight of a lifetime. “I watched my mother work herself to the bone for this shithole. I saw her hope die here, piece by piece, with every day. Watching that, I swore I would never be a weak man, and that I would never want for anything.”

Turning to face me, he rests his back against the door and crosses his arms over his chest. “And then, one fateful day, I saw you. And I wanted you more than anything in my entire life.” He pushes off the door and takes slow, measured steps toward me. “You’ve seen the lengths I will go through to get what I want. I will ruin men without so much as an ounce of guilt.

“But you haven’t seen what I will do to keep it all.” His presence is overwhelming as he towers over me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off him. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear with a tenderness that contrasts with his tone. “I will burn this city to the ground to keep you. Year after year, I will fill you with my children so that my legacy—my name, my blood—is carved into this world so deeply it can never be erased.” His fingers trail from my ear, lightly dusting along the line of my jaw, as he tilts my face up toward his. “You are the foundation, angel. The mother of my dynasty. You can fight it, hate me for it, but it’s already been decided.”

My throat is tight, and my eyes burn with unshed tears, ones I am uncertain whether they’re of fury or being overwhelmed about a life I can’t bring myself to admit I actually want. “You’re insane,” I whisper, my words lacking conviction.

“Perhaps,” he concedes with a devastating smile. “But I’m an insane man who is going to own half this fucking city. And I’m going to do it with a beautiful, stubborn wife on my arm. It’s a very specific kind of insanity, one that only you make possible.”

Roman’s hand falls from my face to take my hand. He uses it to pull me across the room before opening the door and chivalrously holding it for me. I hesitate momentarily, glancing over my shoulder to look at the sad apartment one last time. It isn’t just a rundown studio. It’s the place that forged the man in front of me—the monster and the visionary.

I step past him into the dim, grimy hallway. As we descend the three flights of stairs, the understanding that I am far more than his prisoner settles deep into my bones. I was never just a prize to be won or a pawn to use against my father.

I was everything.

I am everything.

As we step out onto the cracked pavement, I realize with a dawning horror that the darkest, most broken parts of me like the way being wanted by this insane monster makes me feel.

Chapter Nine

Roman

The scents of garlic and saffron fill our penthouse, a rich aroma that should be comforting, but instead heralds another battle. It’s been a week since I brought Cora to the filth of my beginning and laid the blueprint of our future at her feet, and she hasn’t been the same since. The sharp, brittle edges of her hatred have softened, blunted by a grudging understanding she continues to fight against. She’s still a brat, very much still my defiant angel, but it feels more like a performance these days.

“It smells like a cheap restaurant in here,” she groans from her seat, where she’s watching me cook. “Can’t we just go out? I’m tired of being trapped in this apartment.”

I stir the Arborio rice, adding another splash of white wine. “We’re not going out, Cora. I’m making you dinner.”