“Roman,” she says, her voice steady. “I appreciate you for doing all this. I really do. I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to keep your word. Find Riley. Help me get her back.”

I meet her gaze, something shifting between us. This woman—this firecracker who’s been driving me insane since the moment we met—is now looking at me with something more than frustration or anger. There’s trust there. A fragile, tentativetrust, but it’s there. For the first time, I realized just how much I wanted to keep that trust.

“I will,” I promise, my voice low but firm. “I’ll find her. And I’ll keep you safe.”

She nods. Her hand doesn’t move from my arm, and neither her eyes from mine. We sit in silence for what feels like minutes, holding each other’s stare. Somehow, the air between us isn’t awkward. No, it’s charged with something more potent, more intense than even our toughest moments of banter. Something unexplainable but brings a certain heat to my crotch that I try hard to ignore.

There’s a look in her eyes, which I catch momentarily dropping to my lips. The second they do, her fingers pull away. The moment breaks, but the weight of the look in her eyes lingers between us. I notice the heat rush to her cheeks but bite my tongue. Now isn’t the time.

We stand there in silence for a few more minutes, the city lights twinkling in the distance. For once, neither of us feels the need to fill the quiet with words. It’s a comfortable silence that speaks louder than any argument or conversation ever could.

Eventually, I glance at her, a small smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. “Ready to head back?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Are you going to drive like a maniac again?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Not this time. I’ll take it easy on you.”

“Well, that’sboring,” She grins, putting her helmet back on, and climbs on the bike behind me, her hands wrapping around my waist as we prepare to head back into the city. As we ride, I can feel the change in the air between us. It’s subtle, butit’s there. Maybe this marriage isn’t just a transaction to her after all. Maybe, just maybe, there’s something more. Perhaps she’s starting to enjoy it just as much as I have.

As we drive through the quiet streets, the city lights reflecting off the bike’s chrome, I can’t help but wonder what the hell I’m getting myself into. Because with every passing day, it’s becoming harder and harder to see Gwen as just part of the job. She’s starting to feel like something more.

Something I’m not sure I’m ready for.

Chapter 9 - Gwen

I wake up feeling refreshed and far happier than the last few days, but I also cannot deny the strange feelings residing in the pits of my stomach, as if there’s this underlying tension humming just beneath my skin. The memories of last night linger like a fog—Roman’s rough hands gripping the motorcycle handles, the wind in my hair, the thrill that pulsed through my veins. I had needed that release more than I realized, and somehow, without knowing me at all, he knewexactlywhat I needed. That thought scares me.

It terrifies me, actually, how easily I could let myself fall into this, into him.

I roll over in bed, pulling the blanket to my chin as I stare at the ceiling. What if I had acted on it? What if, in the quiet moments after the ride, when we stood there under the stars, I had just let myself give in to the pull between us? I almost did. I couldn’t resist reaching out to make contact, even just barely. But then, reality crashed back in, and the weight of everything kept me in check. Still, the attraction I feel for him is undeniable, and the more I’m around him, the harder it gets to ignore.

And it frustrates me to no end.

I’m supposed to be focused on getting Riley back, and here I am, starting to feel attraction for the man who could be classified as my captor but is also myhusband.

With a frustrated sigh, I force myself out of bed and head for the bathroom. Maybe a shower will help me clear my head and help me make sense of whatever the hell is going on between us. But even as the hot water hits my skin, I can only think about Roman. His quiet confidence, the way he looks at me like he’s trying to figure me out. And that protectiveness…God, it’ssuffocating, but at the same time, it makes me feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.

Safe.

By the time I’m done with my shower, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m not going to get any clarity on this today. Not when my thoughts are this jumbled, and definitely not when Roman is still such a mystery to me. Instead, I focus on getting ready, trying to channel this restless energy into something productive. He said he’d be back later today, and I have no idea what to expect when he does.

Hours pass, and the knot in my stomach only tightens as the afternoon drags on. I try to return to my studies, but nothing seems to do enough of a job distracting me. When the door finally opens, I feel my heart lurch in my chest, and for a moment, I’m embarrassed by how eager I am to see him. I quickly gather myself, smoothing out my shirt as I walk into the living room.

Roman stands there, looking like he always does—composed, in control. But he’s not alone. Behind him, four figures step into the apartment, and I immediately know who they are. His family. His siblings.

I’ve been living in this strange in-between with Roman for weeks, knowing bits and pieces of his life but never the full picture. But now, standing in front of his brothers and sister, it hits me just how real all of this is. Like Roman, I had imagined them to be cold, calculated—maybe even a little unapproachable. But to my surprise, they seem… normal.Ordinary, even.

Roman told me their names and a little bit about them so I could guess who was who based on the little information given to me. Victor, the oldest, is the first to catch my eye. Hehas a presence about him, something that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Something dangerous lurks behind his sharp eyes, and I get the distinct feeling that he enjoys making people uneasy. He’s got that same quiet, menacing energy Roman has, but there’s something darker about him. More deliberate.

Then there’s Anton, who looks more relaxed though no less intimidating. He’s the kind of guy who seems like he knows how to have a good time but could turn deadly serious in an instant. I can tell just by looking at him that he’s the type of person you don’t want to cross. But unlike Victor, there’s a warmth in his smile that throws me off.

Their sister, Anya, is a completely different story. She’s a little taller than me, with dark hair that falls in waves around her shoulders and a smile that’s so genuine that it immediately puts me at ease. There’s no hardness in her, no coldness. She looks like someone I could actually talk to, and when she approaches me, her warmth is infectious.

“You must be Gwen,” she says, her voice soft and friendly. “Roman’s told us all about you.”

Her smile is disarming, and I can’t help but return it. “Not too much, I hope.”

She laughs lightly, shaking her head. “Don’t worry. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, he's not the chatty type.”