Page 9 of The Sin

He sipped on his whiskey, his gaze locking on me. “I knew I could control the situation.”

“But I didn’t, Roman. For the last twenty-four hours, I didn’t know that.”

“I’m sorry.”

He meant it…probably. Maybe that should have been enough for me. It wasn’t. “I don’t forgive you.”

We shared a look that said it all, and said nothing at all. His face was a mask of careless indifference.

Roman hadn’t thrown me to the wolves. But I didn’t forgive him for so much more. His gut instinct had kicked in and he’d made a unilateral decision on my behalf. He knew he could control the situation. He knew what was best for me.

That was the way of men, and Roman was one of those men.

My world was built on lies and Roman was one of the men propping up that false foundation.

So no, I did not forgive him.

I popped off the couch and deposited my untouched glass in the kitchen sink. “I’m going to try and get some sleep.”

“One more thing,” he said. “You’re not to leave the house or receive visitors for the next two weeks.”

I paused, my spine stiffening as I turned to look at him. “You’re putting me under house arrest?”

“The Guard and the council believe I’m committed to subduing your reckless and insubordinate proclivities,” he said. “I have to be seen to be doingsomething.”

“And?”

His brow lowered on me. “And?”

“What else will you be seen to be doing in the name of correcting my behavior?”

“That’s all I’ve got.” The ghost of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. “If you have any other suggestions, I’m all ears.”

His amusement was a velvet blade. It didn’t cut, but it was still a blade. Roman had never taken the rules and regulations of Capra seriously. He mostly just gave a superficial nod to the ones required to further his ambitions.

On the one hand, that gave me a wide scope of leniency within this marriage.

On the other hand, all those silly rules he found so amusing were my life. They tripped me up. They trapped me. If he had to walk in my shoes for five minutes, I guarantee he’d have an instant case of humor failure.

5

My eyes snapped open to a dark room.

Pitch blackness.

My heart raced, still caught in the nightmare that had jolted me awake. Whatever sleep I’d managed to grab, Roman had chased me through it, hot on my heels as I fled across the bridge at Sector Five. I didn’t look back, didn’t dare risk looking over my shoulder.If you don’t see the monster, it won’t catch you.

But I knew he was there, a breath away from grabbing me, and all I could do was run, run until my legs ached, run until my muscles quivered, run until sweat coated my skin and pain stabbed my side. And no matter how fast I ran, the other end of the bridge never got any nearer.

I wasn’t on the bridge now.

I wasn’t in that six-by-six cell at the wall.

I was in my own bed, clutching the bedcovers as my breaths slowed and the panic dissipated.

A glance at my watch showed it was early evening. I’d slept the day away. I lay there another long minute, listening to the cabin’s groans and creaks. The drapes were drawn closed, but it sounded like a storm was brewing outside. Not unusual for this time of the year. Winter was creeping up on us. Soon the storms would turn icy and the days would be cut short.

I couldn’t hear any sounds to indicate Roman was up and about. Then again, he wasn’t a noisy person.

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