Page 3 of Devoted

“Penni,” he says grimly. “Good to see you’re safe.”

My brows draw together. I don’t detect concern. Are his words for my benefit or for Mick’s? “I’m safe. I can call a ride and be out of your hair.”

His lips turn down. A troubled frown at first glance. But I’ve seen the way he reacts when I don’t do what he wants. I don’t fear it like I used to; I’m annoyed. I don’t have time for this, and I’m leaving as soon as he forgets me and goes back to work.

“I have your room ready.”

“I don’t have a room here.” Our bedroom was always his bedroom. I’d rather sleep in the hallway. “And I’m not staying.”

His expression turns to chiseled marble. “I don’t have time to continuously explain things to you.”

No longer fearing his wrath, I lift my chin. I’ve been through scarier things than him. “I don’t have time to tolerate another minute with you. Let me go.”

“Don’t be foolish. You’d be dead if it wasn’t for me.”

Something about his mocking tone bothers me, and a sliver of unease wedges underneath my skin. I don’t have any proof I wouldn’t be dead. If Roman’s correct, I should be profusely thanking him. He saved my life. But nothing he’s done in the last five years tells me he cares about me.

I’m missing facts, and it’s irritating and unnerving. Crankiness emboldens me. “I’m tired of being insulted by you. The police will determine Cannon’s criminal activity, and I can face him in court.”

The emotion that flashes through Roman’s expression is more than annoyance. He smothers it too quickly for me to identify.

I press the topic. “Right? The police have Cannon by now.”

His expression turns glacial but distanced. He smooths a hand over his tie. “As I’ve said, I don’t have time for this.”

“Answer me, Roman,” I snap.

He sucks in a sharp breath. I don’t talk to him like that, ever. “I see time away from refined society has given you an attitude.”

“No, it’s given me back a part of myself you tried to take away. How do you have all those recordings of Cannon?” Realization dawns on me as pieces fall into place. Roman knew who to find me with. He knew when we were leaving. His men were spying on the place. He knew someone was hired to kill me. It’s all too convenient. “He was talking to you, wasn’t he? Or one of your guys? Why would he—”

“Take her to her room.”

Mick wraps a hand around my arm. I try to shake him free, but he doesn’t release me. The urge to run is strong, but I can’t break free. Why would Roman keep me here? “I want to leave.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Penni,” Roman says coolly and nods to Mick.

Dread stains my insides and only fresh air and distance from this place will wash it off. Mick tugs on my arm, and I aim a glare at him. “Are you paid to kidnap too?”

Roman charges toward me, eyes flashing. “We’ve both had enough of you.”

I imagine steel being poured down my spine as I face him. I’m not as impervious as I hoped. “Then let me go.”

His features even out and the arrogant glint is back in his eye. “Now, what kind of husband would I be if I didn’t take care of my wife?” He nods to Mick.

Mick’s grip tightens, but I strain against it. Rare rebellion rises inside me. I might be pouring gasoline on a garbage fire, but I have to push. I have to get some answers somehow, and the one topic we’ve never touched on might give me the reaction I want. “Did you treat your first wife like this?”

Roman cups my chin in his punishing grip. “Don’t you dare speak of my first wife.”

“Why? Wouldn’t she approve of how you’re acting?”

My chin is crushed by his fingers. Rage blooms across his face like a black rose opening to the moon. Pain flares on my skin. I’d wince if I could move. The accident might not have left me bruised, but I’ll have finger marks from both Roman and Mick. This is a man who was deeply in love. Did losing her change him? Did it make him think a wife is nothing more than a tool to get what he wants?

I believed he never loved me, but now it’s confirmed. And if he never loved me and is refusing to let me go—then I’m in trouble.

He brings his face inches from mine. I’m afraid he’s going to do something I can’t recover from, but I’m willing him to say something. To crack his icy composure.

There’s a slight tremble in his body before his fury drains and he releases me. I flex my jaw and use my free arm to rub my face.

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