Page 8 of Vicious Games

She vigorously shook her head from side to side. “I won’t. I promise.”

I leaned down on my haunches. I cupped her cheeks in my hands and pulled her close. I pressed my lips against hers, tasting the salt of her tears. “You need to understand, baby. I will let nothing and no one take you from me. Ever. I will tear this world apart to return you to my side, if you are foolish enough to try and leave me again, and I don’t give a damn who I kill in the process.”

She sniffed. “I won’t leave you, Roman.”

I smoothed an errant curl off of her cheek. “I wish I could believe you, but I fear blood will be spilled before you truly learn your lesson.”

She shook her head again as she gripped my wrist, pressing her cheek into my palm. “Don’t say that, Roman. I understand. I promise you won’t have to hurt anyone for me.”

I looked deeply into her bright eyes. “I don’t think you do understand. When I say I will hurt anyone who tries to take you from me… that includes you.”

Her body started at my threat. She blinked several times, but said nothing.

I leaned my forehead against hers. “Don’t make me hurt you, baby, because I will, if that is what it will take to keep you.”

Not expecting a response, I kissed her on the forehead and rose to my full height.

I left her curled up in the fetal position, partially concealed under the piano.

CHAPTER 4

ROMAN

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Dark, soulless eyes stared back.

They were the hollow eyes of a monster and for the very first time in my life, I was ashamed.

I turned the faucet on and splashed cold water on my face, hoping to shake off the feeling. Taking a deep breath, I surveyed my expression again. Nothing changed.

She hated me.

No, hate was too prosaic of a word. She despised me.

From the moment they thrust me into this world as an unwanted, orphaned bastard, they had made me beg for the slightest crust of bread given to me. I was told I should be grateful when given ripped and torn charity shop clothes. They made me smile and grovel when handed a cold bowl of weak broth as my only meal of the day. The smallest show of kindness always came at a price, one that they forced me to pay over and over again for my survival.

I swore the moment I broke free of the system, I would make my own way in the world, and never again be forced to accept the charity of others. And I didn’t just mean material goods. I never sought nor did I want anyone’s love. In my experience, love came with conditions. Someone always wanted something in return. I knew I would never be beholden to anyone in that regard. I had made my way in the world without a mother’s or father’s love. I didn’t need anyone. Fuck them all.

Through sheer will and determination, I had turned the tables. Now I was the one they came begging to for a crust of bread. Now I had the power to make them grovel on their knees for the slightest kindness. Now I was the one in control.

And now I was the one who had taken it too far…

I stared at my reflection, looking for some sign, some indication of how a silly slip of a girl had somehow changed the rules of the game on me.

There had been plenty of women in my past who had tried to get the upper hand. Who had plied me with false affection in vain attempts to secure my heart… and my wealth. I had used and discarded each and every one of them. Aurora wasn’t even the first to pretend she didn’t want or need my money. Did she really think no other woman had tried to return a piece of jewelry or turn down a trip to some exotic location because she loved me for me and not my net worth? Or the first woman to pretend she hated me to capture my interest? This game was as old as time, and I had already played it countless ways.

Yet somehow, Aurora was different.

It wasn’t just that I was starting to believe she truly didn’t care about my money or the luxuries I could buy her. Or that her hatred of me wasn’t just a ploy to keep me interested in the chase. It was far worse.

I was starting to give a damn.

It bothered me that every kiss, every touch, every caress had to be forced on her. I craved her willing embrace. I didn’t want her in my bed because she had no other choice. I didn’t even want her there because of the passionate orgasms I gave her. I wanted her to want to be in my bed. I wanted her to want to touch me. I wanted her to roll over in the middle of the night and seek the warmth of my arms.

It was insanity.

Suddenly, I wanted to be the type of man she would run to for help.

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