Chapter Twenty-Two
Roselyn
I wake up the next morning sore as fuck, and my legs feel like Jell-O, though I enjoyed every moment last night. He made one of my fantasies a reality, and it was everything I imagined. I didn’t expect it to hurt so much my first time. My thoughts are cloudy, and I’m confused. I shouldn’t have had sex with Devious, and I don’t regret it, but our relationship wasn’t meant to get this far. He’s holding me hostage here, and he killed Tommy. I need to stick to my plan and escape him. It feels dirty and icky for me to want to leave here, but I have to do what I have to do. I don’t want to develop Stockholm syndrome. I had sex with my captor.
Fuck.
I got too caught up in what I want and not focusing on what I need, but for the time being I’m going to focus on earning his trust and stick to my plan. My goal is to live a free life, and I’m going to have it.
The sun peeks between the beige curtains, and I realize that I slept in Devious’s bed. He must have carried me here after I passed out last night. I glance around the room. I thought Devious was going to stick around, and I expected him to cuddle with me after sex, but he didn’t.
Aren’t men supposed to comfort you after sex?
Am I supposed to feel this empty after what we did last night?
It was just sex for Devious, and it wasn’t special to him.
I lay my head back on the pillow and exhale, looking at the ceiling. Regret finally sets in. I should have known that when he got what he wanted, he’d leave me alone. I was afraid that this was going to happen, that he was going to take my virginity and discard me. What if my plan doesn’t work to win him over? Then I’ll be stuck in this hellhole forever.
When I toss the blanket off my body, I shower and put on the dress I wore last night.
Devious walks in the room with two cups of coffee. He’s fully dressed in an Armani suit, and a smile spreads across his face. He sets the two cups down on the nightstand, but I head to the door. I just want to get to my room, change into something more comfortable, then lose myself in my art room.
He eyes me and says, “Where are you going?”
“To my bedroom. You got what you wanted, so I’ll leave.”
He frowns, handing me a cup. “Sit your ass back down.”
I eye him suspiciously as I sip the warm beverage, then I set it down on the nightstand.
“So, what now? You’re going to make me your little whore then discard me? I know my place as your wife.”
Devious is starting to grow on me, I realize. But I can’t let him be nice to me, and fuck me how I want, clouding my judgment. My father has told me what my role is in the mafia. I don’t want to be one of those clingy wives who are attached to their husbands after a few good rounds of sex either.
Besides, the men in the mafia only care about ass and you popping out their babies.
He grips my cheeks, stroking my bottom lip. “You aren’t my whore, you’re my wife. Now lie back down. One of my soldiers is packing up your clothes and bringing them in here. From now on, you’re sharing a bed with me.”
My cheeks heat at his words. “So… you’re not using me as a breeding cow?”
“No. My doctor will be here any minute to give you a birth control shot. I don’t want kids right now.”
My heart warms that he sees me more as his wife.
Yep, I’m confused.
“Be ready by eight tonight, we’re going to a gala.”
“What gala?”
“The owners of the American Billionaire Club are hosting it.”
They are billionaires and kind of like the mafia, but rule over the world. They have their own set of rules and their own justice system, and they own a gentleman’s club for the elite. They’re more powerful than the mafia, in my opinion. You can only be a part of their club by invitation only. I’m assuming Devious is part of it. To be a part of the club, you have to pay an insane amount of money, and be a man, of course. Most men would give up their firstborn to be a part of their elite and high society.
“I had no idea you were a member.”
He nods. “I am, but I usually don’t attend their events. I went to North Haven University and became friends with one of the members. I helped him get out of a sticky situation when we were in college.”
I would ask him to elaborate but it’s not any of my business.
“Oh.”
“I’m late for work.” He leans down, kisses my forehead, and leaves the bedroom.
I feel relief he’s not using me. I thought after he got what he wanted, he would keep his distance and do his hot-and-cold behavior.
There is a knock at the door, and Max comes inside, moving my clothes into the closet, then he exits the room.
I lie back in the bed, excited to get out of this mansion and attend a social event without feeling like a hostage. I want to go ahead and pick out my gown, so I stroll into the walk-in closet.