Page 22 of Fallen Roses

I should feel used—abused even. He didn’t ask, he took. He treated me as if I had no choice and rather than being appalled by that, I loved every minute of it. It was exactly what I wanted—needed, even.

How does he know what I’m ashamed to admit to myself? Anastasia Romanov, daughter of a billionaire, ice maiden, astute businesswoman, ice queen if you like, craves to be dominated, taken and used. It’s an escape, a release, and a freedom nobody has ever given me before.

Until now.

Until him.

CHAPTER 12

JAMES

Ican breathe again. It’s as if I can only think straight when I’ve had my fill of this woman. The meeting was pure torture because she was in my line of sight. I couldn’t think of anything other than how good she tasted and how it felt to be deep inside her with her soft skin brushing against mine. The minute I left her apartment, it all came back to bite me. The loneliness and the nightmares that plague my darkest thoughts, coupled with the lack of control and the longing for something destructive,

Dylan has demons but deals with them in a very different way than me. My demons circle, ready to strike when I least expect it. They color my day and torture my nights, and I choke on respectability through work during the day and unleash them when I leave.

The night Ana met me in the bar was unusual. I rarely venture into places like that. They don’t have whatI need. My tastes are depraved, unusual and dark. Occasionally, I allow them their moment where there is no chance they can harm me.

The club I usually go to has no name over the door. No members list and no identity. The clientele hide behind masks, meaning there is no recognition, and no comeback. A place for you to enact your depraved fantasies with someone of the same mind.

Since meeting Ana, the lines have become blurred and the desire for anonymity has long since passed. Dylan survives this shit by taking drugs. She is mine—my survival, and I was withdrawing pretty badly until I had my fix.

I stare at her freshly fucked face and her body dripping with my mark. Her legs are still apart as she slumps on the table, her hair messed up with turbulently wild eyes. She is beautiful, none more so than now, but like the bastard I am—no gentleman here—I growl.

“That will be all, Miss Starling.”

I turn away, waiting for her anger to strike me in the back, but I get nothing at all. As I shift my cock back into my pants, I hear her slide from the table, her soft movements as deafening as waves crashing to the shore or thunder rumbling overhead and lightning striking my evil soul.

The door clicks shut behind her and I breathe again.

Running my fingers through my hair, I struggle to get a grip.

I used her.

I fucked her with no consideration for her feelings, and it was exactly what I needed.

It proves what a monster I am but as always, I push that aside to deal with in the future.

I return to my office with a clearer head and within five minutes, Angela enters with my coffee order and a sandwich.

“BLT. Is that okay?”

“Thanks.”

I smile my appreciation and she takes the chair before me and says with a worried frown, “There’s a man waiting to see you.”

I raise my eyes and she appears uncomfortable. “He doesn’t have an appointment but insists you will see him.”

“His name?”

“Mikhail Romanov.”

The name is familiar and then I remember the man who donated one million dollars to Adele’s fundraiser. It’s the same surname and I wonder if it has something to do with that, so I nod.

“Send him in.”

As she leaves, I take a bite of my sandwich and a gulp of my coffee before tucking them away out of sight.

Business comes first. It always has because outside of my dark nights, it’s the only thing that keeps me sane.

---