Page 104 of Destined for the Devil
Life was strange. I met him because of death, and yet being with him made me feel more alive than I had ever been before. I turned to look at him—his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm, his closed eyes watching dreams. A ruthless, brutal, severe, and vicious man was a soft teddy bear with me.
The thought made me giggle. He was all mine.
My chest bursting from emotions—or maybe a feeling of accomplishment—I tiptoed downstairsto get a glass of water. My apartment was silent and cozy, filled with pleasant memories since he’d arrived back in my life. It was a bit messy, and some more things were due to arrive next week—like the dining table—but an aura of undeniable joy permeated every corner.
I took a peek out the window before heading upstairs, itching to enjoy the winter wonderland one last time, but instead, I caught sight of a car parked right outside the building. The same car that we noticed when we came back from vacation. What the hell was it doing here again?
I told myself Roman and I had been overthinking it all. It was probably nothing, just a coincidence. The pictures set us both on edge, and ever since then, I’d been more vigilant, unsure of what I was looking for. It was easy to read too much into any small thing.
But then the driver’s door swung open, and I froze. A young man stepped out, lightly shutting the door behind him. Moving slowly, like he had all the time in the world, he leaned against the car and lit up a cigarette in a puff of smoke.
He took a long drag and lifted his head, his gaze settling right on my windows. I ducked behind the curtain, my heart beating in my throat. I peeked through the gap in the fabric, noticing that he was still looking this way. Not the building, not the entrance,mywindows.
I debated waking Roman, but it felt ridiculous! So what if some guy was smoking outside? He probably wasn’t staring at my windows; everything just felt so much more dramatic in the middle of the night. I waited for a minute longer, and the man tossed the cigarette to the side and climbed back inside the car. But he didn’t drive off; he just sat there, headlights off, windows closed.
Okay, so maybe he was waiting for someone? An early morning airport drop-off? My paranoia was uncalled for; I was sure of it. Besides, I had Roman. I wasn’t in any danger.
So, I let it go, padded back upstairs, and curled up beside my futurehusband.
Weeks passed by in a blur of slow mornings, delicious sex, and intense schoolwork. Valentine’s Day and Roman’s birthday arrived with another snowstorm, and I worked overtime to clear my schedule for the entire weekend.
But I had no idea what to get him. What do you get a man who already had everything? So I went with an experience: two tickets to the opera. It was romantic but also an exciting place where we could sneak off somewhere and fool around.
At six in the morning on his birthday, I was already in the kitchen baking him a cake. The countertop resembled a chaotic work of art—flour and cocoa powder decorated every inch.
Just before I heard him wake up upstairs, I plated the cake on a cake stand—complete with candles, incredibly proud of myself.
“Angel?” he called out as he descended the stairs, sleepy and delicious as always.
“Happy birthday!” I sang just as he strolled closer to the kitchen, the sweet surprise in his eyes an unforgettable sight.
He froze for a few seconds as he looked over the cake and me, wearing only his t-shirt, dirtied with cocoa powder.
“Is this…for me?” he asked, bewildered, but clearly filled with joy.
I paused at that question. Had he never had a birthday cake before?
“Of course, baby. Happy birthday!” I took a few steps closer and lifted up on my tippytoes for a kiss.
Roman melted, indeed, like he’d never had candles and a birthday cake before. His smile was so genuine, so happy, soboyish—exactly the smile I’d come to admire with my whole heart.
His lips whispered dirty promises and sweet nothings in my ear all day, and his fingers worked their magic underneath my skirt as we listened to Tosca in the private opera box that evening.
The birthday gift was a success but…
I got him something else, too. Something I knew we would both enjoy in bed.
47
Tie Me Up, Daddy
Isla
Lateatnight,withthe city outside cloaked in darkness and my apartment lit in soft gold, Roman unwrapped his Valentine’s present. His smile was replaced by a soft gasp when the gift landed in his hands.
He never did give me that list of what he wanted for his birthday, but I was pretty sure these wrist-to-ankle cuffs were on it. Along with probably a few other restraints, but I would let him take care of that.
"Does it fit?" I was sitting on Roman’s lap with a champagne glass, but grabbed the cuffs out of his hands and tried them on. Fuck. I was wet just thinking about it.
