Like a toy. Like a piece of paper.
“You don’t need to be sorry and you don’t need to be grateful.” He took my hands in his, staring into my eyes. “I’m not a man that takes risks that aren’t necessary, and I very rarely allow a new person into my life. You are a risk and you are very new. But I promise I will take care of you Cassie, only you need to understand that I’m not a safe person. You will be in danger while you’re here.”
“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
“No, you don’t.”
He stayed there between my legs holding my hands and I was desperate for him to kiss me—
But he released my fingers and stood up. I felt a ghost of him still.
“Get some sleep. You’ll need it.”
With that very ominous warning, he walked away, leaving me alone.
I pulled out my phone as I curled into bed. For the second time in a month, I texted Winter to let her know that I was okay, but I was with a guy again. The same guy, actually. And he sort of kidnapped me? Kind of, not really?
I left out the kidnapped part and hit send.
She didn’t respond, but I figured she was asleep.
Back in Roman’s bed. I never expected to find myself here in this man’s world all over again and yet I dreamed about it night after night, craved it like a curse and a pleasure. I curled up under the covers and tried not to wake up—because if this was another nightmare, I wanted to linger inside of it as long as I could.
9
Cassie
Like last time, I expected to find Roza waiting for me in the kitchen.
Instead, I found him.
At least he had a shirt on. Or maybe it would’ve been nice to see that toned chest and his absurdly sculpted abs again.
This whole thing was more than a little confusing.
Deja vu.
Except instead of an ocean-side view, I got a blank wall.
An underground bunker.
Who the heck had an underground bunker?
I got out of bed, brushed my teeth—another brand new brush, of course, this man seemed totally prepared for guests—and opened the closet. I expected to find another robe—
And found it packed with clothes.
I stared, trying to comprehend what I was seeing, before I reached in and started running my hand through the different tops, sweaters, pants, and skirts.
They must be for Roza—
But no. I took out a few pieces at random—all designer, of course, what the heck was with this guy, who had a closet of designer clothes just sitting around doing nothing?—and they were all in my size.
Like he’d put them here specifically for me.
Like he knew I’d be coming here sooner or later.
That freaked me out. I slammed the closet door shut and took a few steps back. My breath came fast and wicked as I steadied myself on the bed.
I was underground in some secret bunker, the guest of an ultra-rich oligarch or whatever the heck he was, and last night I watched him murder a man right in front of me.
And now he had a closet full of clothes, all of them in my size.
Roman was terrifying. More than that, he was alluring and attractive, but also really, really, freaking terrifying.
I checked my phone with shaking hands.
Winter: Get it girl!!!!
If only she had any clue.
I was tempted to tell her, but what could I say? Oh hey girl, I’m trapped in an underground bunker because some mafia guys want to kill me because I witnessed a murder but NBD my knight in shining armor is an insanely handsome and very freaking intense rich guy that’s also sort of running the mob from behind the scenes, ha ha, super complicated but don’t worry it’s great I’m having a blast this isn’t totally insane at all xoxoxo!!!
Pretty sure she’d call the FBI and the Navy SEALs immediately, and yes, I know you can’t really call the SEALs, but she’d figure it out somehow.
Which meant I was on my own.
I had nobody else to turn to. I left my old life behind years ago, and going back to them would only confuse things even more.
Besides—I told my dad I’d never speak to him again and I meant it.
No reason to break a promise just because I was—captive? guest? obsession?—whatever I was to Roman.
I went back to the closet, took several deep breaths, and picked out a simple outfit. Black jeans from some French brand I’d never heard of, the knees artfully ripped, and a white button down blouse from Yves St. Laurent. I finished it with a white Givenchy sneaker, though I eyed the ridiculous heels with some small amount of lust—a very teeny tiny amount of lust, no more than is appropriate for beautiful shoes—and left the room.
The hallway was bland, but I remembered the way back to the main living area. I stepped through the door and breathed in the smell of fresh coffee and frying bacon. That made me smile—I found it hard to believe they made bacon in this place very often.