I look into his eyes. I don’t recognize the man who keeps me safe anymore. His eyes are almost vacant, void of all goodness, of all emotion besides rage. For the first time since I met Roman, doubt settles in the pit of my stomach.
How could he say these things?
Does he even care if my father finds me? Does he even care about me? I thought I knew him, or at least a piece of him, but it was all just a mask covering up the monster beneath. I twist around on my heels, ready to run out of the room...run away from him.
I have no idea where I’m going, I just need to get away, and any place is better than being here with a man who doesn’t really care about me. I make it three steps before Roman’s strong arms grab me from behind, looping around my torso, pulling me into his chest.
“Oh no you don’t. I’m not done with you. I’m might have made a mistake agreeing to take you in, but you’re my fucking responsibility. I don’t care how I make you feel, you’re fucking stuck with me until further notice,” he growls in my ear.
“Let go of me.” I struggle against his hold, wanting to break free. His words swirl around my head, eating away at my fragile heart.
“Keep struggling. It makes my cock hard.” His hot breath fans against my ear, and I shiver.
“I don’t want you to touch me.” I wiggle in his arms once more, feeling my strength falter.
“Funny, you weren’t saying that earlier when my fingers were grazing your cunt.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, willing tears away. I hate that he knows I wanted him, and that my body reacted to his touch in such a way.
I want to fight him…I want to hurt him like he’s hurting me, but I am just too drained. Emotionally and physically. I have nothing left inside me, nothing to give him. I let my body relax into his muscled chest and force him to carry my dead weight.
At least I can make it harder on him this way.
“I hate you,” I say quietly.
“We both know that’s not true,” he replies, and I hate that he’s right. I hate that he knows how much he means to me, and I’m mad at myself for giving him that knowledge.
He sits me down on the bench just so he can change his grip on me and tosses me over his shoulder.
I let my head hang and close my eyes as he carries me out of the locker room. It sounds less crowded in here now, but voices, of people and the shuffling of their feet as they move around us still pierce my ears. Most of them say something to Roman as we pass, congratulating him and complimenting him on the fight. Roman never, not even once, replies. It’s not surprising, though. He doesn’t seem like the type to stick around and have a conversation with any of his fans.
When we finally step outside and the cool air caresses my heated skin, I sigh, thankful to just be out of that insane asylum. All I want is to go back to Roman’s house and forget about tonight, forget about the things Roman said. A second later, he opens a car door and deposits me in the backseat.
I barely pull my feet inside before he slams the door shut.
“You okay?” Mac asks me from the driver's seat. There's a look of concern in his soft eyes, and the tense body language he’s giving off confirms his worry further. I wonder if this is common behavior for Roman or if he’s just being this way with me.
“Yes,” I whisper, hating the way my voice sounds.
Roman gets into the passenger side with a grunt and slams the door just as hard as he did mine. The air in the car is so thick, it could be cut with a knife.
Mac pulls out of the parking lot, and no one dares to say a word the entire drive back to Roman’s house.
When we get to the house, there are two cars I don’t recognize parked in the driveway. The guys don't seem alarmed by them being there, so I just get out of the car and follow them into the house.
“Go to your room, lock the door, and stay the fuck in there for the rest for of the night,” Roman orders without even looking at me. I watch him walk in the direction of the living room, having half the mind to tell him to fuck off and follow him. But I’m not that stupid. There’s clearly something going on with him today, and even though I don’t understand what it is, I don’t want to push him. Instead, I head to my bedroom without any further questions.
“Seriously, Roman,” Mac grumbles behind me. I do as instructed and walk into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind me. I strip out of my clothes and go straight into the shower. I want to wash everything off me—all the smells of that awful place clinging to my skin like gooey tar.
I turn the water on, twist the knob to hot, then step into the spray and melt beneath the nearly boiling water. The tension seeps out of my muscles. I stand there for a long while, letting the water beat against my back before I reach for the bar of soap. I scrub myself from head to toe and wash my hair, massaging my scalp with my fingers.
I can’t stop thinking about the things Roman said. About how I wanted him even when he was being an asshole...about how he said his brother should’ve just sent me back whenever I came from.
The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I escaped a life ruled by my angry father, following his strict rules, only to be thrust into another dark world. I may not be completely caged, but I’m still being ordered around. I don’t want that kind of life. I don’t want to be controlled by a man.
Rinsing my hair, I decide I need to do what I want to do. Roman can order me around all he wants, but he doesn’t own me. He doesn’t control my future.
I get out of the shower and dry off, looking at my reflection in the mirror. My cheek is bruised from the left corner of my lip up toward my eye. It looks horrible and hurts like hell, but soon, it will be nothing more than another scar and memory.
I go back into my room and pull out the first outfit I find from the dresser. After I’m dressed, I contemplate what to do next. I’m not ready to go out and face anybody yet, especially Roman. I throw myself onto the bed and curl up in a ball, trying to forget the events of this entire day. Unfortunately, it’s hard to clear my mind with loud music booming through the normally quiet house. My walls vibrate as the rap music pulses through me, like I’m standing right next to the damn speaker.
I rub at my temples. This is a much different problem than I’m used to having. Usually I’m all alone, the silence surrounding me, but tonight, there is no silence inside my head, nor in this house.
Stepping out of my room, I march through the house on a mission...even though I’m not sure what that mission is yet. I follow the sounds of the music underlined with talking and laughing. The noises get louder as I move farther down the hall. Knowing they are having a party right now infuriates me beyond measure.
How dare they celebrate Roman killing a man.
My fists are clenched and my jaw is tight when I enter the large living space people have gathered in. My eyes scan the crowd of maybe fifty, but I don’t see Roman or Mac. I do, however, spot Devin, his mouth attached to some busty blonde sitting on his lap. I almost turn around and run back to my room when some random guy appears next to me. I look him up and down. He’s handsome, but simple looking, nothing like Roman.
“Hey,” he greets, giving me a friendly smile, revealing perfectly white, straight teeth. “I feel like I’ve never seen you at one of Roman’s parties before.” He shakes his head before answering his own question. “Nah, I would definitely remember a pretty face like yours.”
“Hi,” is all I can muster. His smile widens, as if he appreciates my timidity, and my insides tighten. This is new territory for me. Guys, talking, dating. I’ve never done any of those things, but I have the desire to do them, eventually.
“You look like you could use a drink.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond to him. “Come on. We’ll get you something.” Putting his hand gently against my lower back, he ushers me to the kitchen, which is now a makeshift bar.
“Uh, thanks…” I walk with him, even though I really don’t want to. His hand on my lower back, however innocent the touch might seem, makes
me uneasy.
I look around the room once more, not even thinking about it as I search for Roman. Even now, I search him out for protection. Even after everything that has happened today, after all the horrible things he said to me, I still want him near me. I want him to make me feel safe. I want his arms wrapped around me. I worry I might be growing obsessed, but I’m in his care and want to be near him.
When we get to the kitchen, I look up at the man with his hand on my back and watch him pour me something to drink. He smiles again, and I’m certain it’s genuine. I can’t help but wonder if there is something wrong with me. Why would I only feel safe with Roman? He obviously doesn't care about me. He is mean and unapologetic, so why does he mean so much to me? I just wish I didn't feel like I need him.
“I’m Ryan, by the way,” he introduces himself, handing me the glass.
“Sophie.” I reach for the glass and take a small sip. A strong alcohol taste mixed with some fruit juice hits my tongue and burns down my throat, filling my belly with warmth.
“Good?” Ryan lifts a brow, his smile very much still intact.
I give him a half smile and take another sip. He watches me for a long moment before guiding us toward the patio doors that lead out into the backyard. Red flags go up in my mind. I dig my feet into the tile floor to stop us from moving forward.
“Wait…” I stop him, panic gnawing at me. “Why don't we just stay inside?”
“Are you worried about being alone with me?”
I swallow and shake my head no. “Of course not, it just looks like this is where all the fun is.” I force a smile and hope he can't tell how fake it is. I look past him to the people in the living room, but no one is even looking in our direction and the music is way too loud for anyone to hear me if I called for help.
He keeps his hand on my lower back, and all I want is for him to get his hands off. When he turns and guides us back in the other direction, I relax, but that relaxation is short lived when he pushes me against a wall out of sight from everybody else. The sudden movement caused the drink in my hand to fall, the glass clattering to the floor. Some of the liquid coats the front of my shirt, but I'm more worried about this man caging me against the wall.
“Please move.” I try to keep my voice firm, but to my disappointment, it still comes out shaky.
“Don’t be like that. We’re just going to have some fun.” His face is so close, his hot breath fans against my cheek. I turn my face away from him, the odor of alcohol so strong, I might get drunk off the smell alone. He leans even closer, and bile rises in my throat as his lips graze my skin. I press my hands to his chest and push hard, but he doesn’t budge.
The air in my lungs stills as I beat my fists against his chest. When all he does is give me a smile, I lift my leg and knee him right in the groin. He lets go of me immediately and takes a step back, groaning in pain and reaching for his balls.
Not wasting any time, I run out of the kitchen and through the living room, running into people in my haste to get away. No one says anything, or even looks at me, and I don’t turn around to apologize. People are either too self-absorbed or drunk to realize what just happened only a few feet away from them.
I continue running toward my bedroom without looking behind me. I don’t make it far before a hand reaches out and grabs onto my arm, yanking me backwards.
“We weren’t done, sugartits,” he growls, pulling me toward him. His fingers dig deep into my arm, and I flinch. “And that kick to my balls is going to cost you.” Air refuses to enter my lungs even as my chest heaves. It feels like I’m choking. The onset of a panic attack rising inside me. I have to get out of here. I have to save myself.
He moves to pin me against the wall once more, but before he gets the chance, I clench my fist as tightly as I can and swing around. My knuckles slam straight into his stupidity straight nose. Pain radiates up my arm, and I clench my teeth, holding back the snarl of pain.
I will not go down without a fight. I am done letting men treat me however they like. I am not a thing. I’m a person, and I deserve to be respected and cared for.
As soon as he registers my fist hitting his face, he lets go of my arm. His reflexes are slow as he swings his own fist at my face. Luckily, in his drunken state, I’m faster. Ducking just in time, I turn around and sprint toward Roman’s room, praying he’s there.
I haven’t seen him since we arrived, and I’m almost afraid he left me in this huge house with all these people. He wouldn’t do that, would he? I’m weak with need for him, more now than before. Worry consumes me with every step I take. I push my legs to run faster. The heavy footsteps echoing behind me act as fuel to my muscles. I just pray I can get there before he reaches me.
Just a few more steps. Two more steps. My heart beats furiously. Gripping the doorknob, I twist and yank it open. Time freezes, the beating organ inside my chest seems to stop mid-beat as if it too knows the heartache that’s to come.
“Roman…” His name spills from my lips like a sin.
“What the fuck!” The naked blonde straddling Roman on his bed screams as she turns, throwing daggers at me over her shoulder. I thought my heart was broken before. Whatever pieces were left shatter, leaving nothing but dust in their wake.
Chapter Seven
Roman
I blink, hoping my eyes are just playing tricks on me. I know I’m pretty high, but I’m not sure if I’m high enough to imagine Sophie standing in my doorway looking at me while I have this naked chick grinding on me.
I know I’ve done nothing wrong. I don’t owe her anything. We are not together, and I never promised her anything. I even went as far as telling her I was planning on fucking some random chick after the fight. I know all of this…but none of those things matter when I see her. Gut wrenching guilt invades my body. It’s so overwhelming, it pulls me from the foggy high surrounding me.
A deep sadness appears in her blue depths, hitting me like a bullet striking me straight through the heart. I feel my own heart breaking, the muscle ripping in two. I don’t fucking understand why. She means nothing to me...or at least she’s not supposed too.
But this...this stabbing feeling in my chest…she does matter—a fucking lot. It seems like she stands there staring at me for an eternity and then as if she was never there at all she’s gone, disappearing into thin air.
“Who the fuck is she?” The blonde on my lap pouts, but I don’t answer her. I don’t even think as I push her off my lap. She squeals and opens her mouth to say something but I’m already out the door consumed with need to reach Sophie and make things right.
I know I don’t have to tell her nothing happened, but I want to. I need to.
I look down the hall in both directions to see which way Sophie went but what I see next has my blood boiling. Hot fury, hotter than I’ve ever felt before grabs hold of me as I witness Ryan grab her by the arms. His hands on her snap something inside of me.
Sophie struggles to break free of his touch, and I can see the tears swimming in her eyes. My nostrils flare and I close the distance in three large strides.
Ryan’s eyes go wide. He releases Sophie a second before my hands wrap around his throat. I don’t see or feel anything other than Sophie in this moment. I’ve hurt her...he hurt her...and her father hurt her.
I’m tired of people hurting her. The fucker’s mouth opens as if he’s trying to say something, but I squeeze his windpipe, and nothing but a slow wheeze escapes his throat. I want to break him—snap him like the fucking twig he is.
Out the corner of my eye, I see Sophie scurry away, her eyes confessing her heartache. I’m fine with her escaping me—for now. I don't want her to see me kill someone else today. Pulling back my lips in a snarl, I squeeze the bastard’s throat. The pressure against his windpipe is enough to break it. The idea of making him suffer encompasses me. I stare into his face, watching his eyes widen, like they’re about to pop out of their sockets. His skin starts to turn blue, and tiny blood vessels inside his
eyes burst, coloring the whites in red. His feeble attempts to hit me and push me off are a joke. I almost smile.
Such a pitiful excuse for a human.
I squeeze harder, listening as his windpipe crushes beneath the pressure of my grip, and even then, I don’t let go until his eyes are vacant and his body is still, his arms falling lifelessly to his sides. I drop him to the floor like the sack of shit he is, and then I hear the blood curdling scream behind me.
I turn just in time to find the chick I had in my bedroom standing in the hallway, her eyes wide with fear. She’s halfway dressed, one hand clutching her purse and shoes while the other covers her mouth.
“Shut the fuck up or you’ll be next,” I growl, then twist my head around, scanning the hallway.
Where the fuck did Sophie go?
Now that the fuckface is gone, all I can think about is finding her and making things right. I need her in my arms, her scent around me, her eyes filled with happiness.
“Sophie!” I yell as I stomp down the hall and into her room. I check her bathroom, even her closet—nothing. My pulse pounds in my ears. Where did she go?
I run back to my room, checking everything there while continuing to call her name. When I can’t find her anywhere, I jog back out into the living room, nearly slamming into a group of people.
“Did you see Sophie?” I scream at Devin, who’s dry humping some chick on the couch.
“No, man. Everything all right?”
“Make everyone leave, then call someone to dispose of the guy I just killed in front of my bedroom door.” I feel nothing and everything all at once. It’s like I’m more than high, like I’m not even in this realm anymore.
“What the fuck happened?” he asks, his tone changing dramatically. I don’t even answer him. I have no time. I need to find her. All will be well when I find her.
“Just fucking do it!” I yell on my way out. What if something’s happened to her? What if someone else got her? My thoughts are irrational, but I don’t care.
Tame Me: A Mafia Romance (The Rossi Crime Family Book 5) Page 7