The drive was torture.
Worse than anything I’d gone through before.
I was so exhausted from the chase, but my adrenaline pumped hard and kept me in a perpetual state of panic. I’d start to calm down, get close to drifting off—then another spike sent me spiraling.
Any bump, any sudden braking.
I kept wondering why Roman put up with it. I was nothing to him, just some girl that witnessed a murder. I was inconvenient more than anything else.
And yet he sat with me for over two hours, holding my hand, touching my leg, and breathing with me, in and out. He whispered softly, trying to be as reassuring and calming as he could, and it worked.
At least, it worked more than anything else ever had before.
It still felt like I was drowning, but Roman was there to keep me afloat.
Two hours in a car was a nightmare. It was the worst thing I could imagine for myself.
Roman made it bearable.
I’d never been to Jersey City before and didn’t know much about it. The houses were old and built in a typical Jersey beach-style even though we were right across from Manhattan. I found it strange that Roman didn’t live directly in the city, but couldn’t think straight enough to ask him why not.
We rolled through quiet residential streets at four in the morning and eventually dropped outside of a black wrought-iron gate. A man sat in a guard booth just inside and manually pulled the fencing back. He saluted as we drove past—and had a rifle slung over his shoulder.
The driveway reminded me of the Avalon beach house, but so much more. The grass was perfectly manicured, bushes and trees trimmed into idealized and controlled shapes. The house came into view at the top of a short rise and I sucked in a shocked breath.
It was low and sleek. Long, sloped roofs. Mid-century style, like it as built in the fifties—but everything was new, shining and pristine. Exposed wood, natural brick, lots of grain and character.
As soon as the car stopped I climbed out and threw up.
I expected Roman to leave me there. Instead, I felt him rub my back.
“God I’m so sorry,” I said, wiping my mouth. Heat pressed into my cheeks. As if having a panic attack for two hours wasn’t bad enough, now I had to get sick in front of him.
“At least it wasn’t in the car.” He gently helped me stand up straight. “Let’s get you inside.”
Erick gave me an apologetic smile like he as genuinely sorry to keep me prisoner inside of that death machine. I tried to smile back, but I was weak, shaky. Roman helped me down some steps toward where the house was sunk into the side of the hill, almost like a bunker. He let me in the front door.
The floor was sleek and marble, the walls pristine plaster. I expected him to take me back into a kitchen—
But instead, he approached a blank wall, pressed a hidden switch behind a statue of a bull with its horns shorn off, and gestured as a set of elevator doors opened.
“Going down.”
I stared at him, stared at the elevator, then followed him inside.
I hardly felt the motion at all.
“What is this place?”
“It’s my home.”
“I was wondering why you don’t live in the city.”
“I have an apartment that overlooks Central Park if you’d prefer that, but it’s difficult to build an underground fortress in New York. Much easier in New Jersey.”
“Why do you even need an underground fortress?”
He half smiled at me. “When your business is financing and running multiple criminal enterprises, security becomes a very important aspect of your life.”
The elevator doors slid open and he stepped out into a beautiful open apartment.
Or at least it looked like an apartment. Doors branched off into other places. He led me past a sitting room with a couch and a television and into a sleek modern kitchen. The decor was dark wood with antique rifles hung on the walls. Very masculine, very impressive. Expensive, thick rugs covered the otherwise sleek, metallic floor.
There were no windows.
“Welcome to my home.”
“You live in a lair.” I accepted the glass of wine he offered. “This is a lair. Like a super villain or something.”
“I was thinking more like James Bond or Batman.”
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those super masculine guys that’s also into comic books.’
“No, don’t worry. I haven’t seen a single Marvel movie. Although I did get a producer credit on the first one.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Not under my real name, but yes, really. I have a lot of investments.”
“God, you’re so strange.” I took several long sips of wine and stifled a yawn.
“You’re exhausted. Would you like to see your room?”
“I assume it’s going to be in a cave somewhere. Straw mattress, bare stone walls?”
“I have a room like that if you’d prefer.”
“Of course you do.”
“It’s a fun room. Whips and chains and all of that.”
I finished off my wine. “Are you serious?”
Another smile. “Not at all.”
“Oh. Don’t joke about that.”
“Okay, I won’t. Next time I talk about tying you up and spanking your pretty ass raw, it won’t be a joke.”
I cleared my throat and felt my cheeks flush again.
Definitely a nine. Winter would be proud.
“This way.”
He led me through one of those side doors down a long hallway. It was almost spooky the way the lighting simply turned on like something out of a horror movie. He stopped outside of a doorway and opened it into a massive bedroom suite, complete with its own sitting area, a small kitchen, a bathroom, and a working fireplace. The bed was huge, bigger than the one back in Avalon, though I couldn’t hear the sound of the ocean.
I missed it already, but was grateful to have somewhere safe to stay.
I sat down and kicked my shoes off. I put the wine glass down on the end table—which was probably worth more than my entire life’s savings.
“What do we do now?” I asked, looking up as he lingered nearby, idly inspecting the place like he was looking for stray dust.
He let out a soft sigh. “I’m not sure. I hadn’t planned for this. I hoped you’d be able to stay in your old life, but—“ He stopped and shook his head.
“Stay in my old life? You mean I can’t ever go back to Sea Isle?”
“I mean I’m going to have to fix a lot of things before you’ll be safe there again. But I promise, if you want to go back there, I will make sure you go back.”
I chewed on my lip. I wanted to believe him, but my ears still rang from the gunshots, and now I had two deaths to have nightmares about.
“Should I be angry with you? I know you saved my life, but I feel like I’m only here because of you in the first place.”
“You’re here because of Manzi, don’t forget that.”
“You’re right.” I tugged at my hair, exhausted and dizzy with wine and adrenaline. “I’m sorry. I’m not being very grateful.”
He walked over suddenly and knelt down. I leaned back in surprise. He was a bad man—masculine, intense, imposing. He made me want to squirm away in fear, but that same impulse was intoxicating. He could grab me with his big hands and hold me down if he wanted, he could tear me into little bits, he could break me—
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.
