Chapter 14 – Roman
The day of the wedding came in a flash, and not even Scarlett’s defiance could stand in the way of it. She’d tried to resist on several occasions—refused to try on her bridal gown and fought against the seamstresses.
She even ripped one of the dresses to shreds in a fit of rage. I hadn’t seen her that upset since she arrived at the mansion. But instead of feeling offended by her outburst, I was intrigued by it.
That rage, anger, and stubbornness of hers pulled me in like a fuckin’ moth to a flame. It was proof she wasn’t the type to be easily pushed around or told what to do. Scarlett had a mind of her own—a mind that refused to break without a fight.
The more she tried to resist, the more I wanted to make her mine. I still reveled in the rage I saw in her eyes when I confronted her about her defiance. The news was that my bride-to-be had become too wild and unbearable to work with.
I had to step in and take matters into my own hands since she’d decided to become so problematic.
The door creaked open, and I walked in quietly, my shoes scuffing against the floor. She was seated on her bed, her head bowed, her face buried in her palms.
The maids, Natasha and Nikki, were beside her, whispering comforting words in her ears.
“It’s okay,” Nikki said, rubbing her palm over Scarlett’s back. “It’s not all that bad, you know.”
“I can’t do it,” she answered, her voice cracking as she spoke. “I just can’t do it.”
Natasha was about to respond when she spotted me approaching the bed. Instantly, she froze, her breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes were wide with shock and fear, and her throat bobbed after she swallowed hard.
Nikki rose to her feet as well the moment she saw me. Both maids lowered their heads in an attempt to avoid my gaze, their hands clasped in front of them.
Scarlett, noticing something was off, finally raised her head. She looked up at the frozen girls before turning to face me. A glint of fear flashed across her features, but she was quick to mask it with anger.
“Leave us,” I said, my voice flat and laced with finality.
The maids gave a curt nod and hurried out of the room.
“Why?” Scarlett began, rising to her feet. “Why are you doing this to me?” She wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks as she approached me. “I have a life—a future ahead of me. Why do you want to take that from me?!” Her voice rose on the last statement, eyes blazing with fury.
I watched her in silence for a while, basking in the fury that made her lips tremble.
“Your status in this house is about to shift,” I said, calm and collected.
“From a prisoner. To a bride.” My hand stretched out, fingers toiling with the hair that framed her face.
“Many would kill to be in your position right now. So be grateful.”
She slapped my hand off. “You’re ruining my life, and you expect me to be grateful?” Her voice was weak and fragile, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
Silence.
Her expression darkened, and her tone shifted from fragile to a low growl. “I hate you—I hate you so much.” Her voice was dripping with venom, her face twisted with resentment.
“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” My lips curled into a mischievous grin. “I can see it in your eyes, and that’s the reason I’m choosing to chain you to me. You know why?” I stepped forward, my gaze pinned on her until I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Because hate burns hotter than love.”
“You’re sick,” she declared.
I pulled my head back to watch the frown on her face. “I know. And you…” I pointed a finger in the air, a gesture of my warning, “...will no longer cause any trouble. You will behave like the bride that you are. You will wear your dress, look gorgeous, and smile for all to see how happy you are.”
Her jaw locked, her eyes blinking back tears. “And if I don’t?”
A crooked grin tugged at the corners of my lips. “Trust me; you don’t wanna find out.”
The threat stole her breath, and a glimpse of fear flashed in her eyes. She knew I wasn’t kidding, and that messing with me wasn’t such a good idea. As she glared at me, the hatred in her gaze burned hotter and hotter by the second.
Good. Very good.
Without another word, I stepped away from her, my footsteps soundless against the floor as I strolled out of the room.
I could feel her eyes lingering on me, but I couldn’t care less.
The message had been passed—now the choice was entirely up to her.
She could either play the part of a happy bride or face the consequences.
The church doors parted, revealing her figure as she stood at the entrance, bathed in the sunlight streaming behind her. The classic “Wedding March” swelled through the hallowed air as she walked down the aisle with measured, graceful steps.
Heads turned in her direction, our seated guests admiring her gorgeousness with soft smiles. Her presence commanded attention, her ethereal beauty stirring quiet murmurs among our impeccably dressed guests.
My heart skipped a beat the second I laid eyes on her. Scarlett looked stunning in the white silk lace that hugged her in all the right places. The dress highlighted her curves and contours, revealing an elegance I had never noticed.
She looked like an angel with the sun’s glory behind her like a friggin’ halo. I couldn’t bring myself to take my eyes off her. In that moment, the world around us faded away, leaving just the two of us.
I stood at the altar, resplendent in my black suit and a tie, waiting patiently for my bride. The closer she drew to me, the more I realized just how gorgeous she was. Her makeup was natural, and it blended with her skin tone, nothing loud or harsh.
Her hazel eyes shifted between green and gold under the chandelier’s soft light. She held my gaze from a distance, her short blonde hair styled to perfection. Her lips were painted a shade of red, and her heels made her look inches taller than usual.
The smile on her face was plastic, but not everyone knew that, considering how genuine it looked.
I’d always known that Scarlett was a pretty one, but today, I realized how much I’d underrated her beauty. No other woman in the world was more stunning than her; she was perfect just the way she was.
When she reached the wide steps in front of the altar, I stretched out my hand, and without hesitation, she took it. I helped her up, nice and easy, as her fingers stylishly clutched her gown, lifting the flowing hem inches off the floor.
Scarlett stood across from me as the priest’s voice droned on, initiating the ceremony. Her chest was rising and falling with slow, even breaths that masked her anxiety. Although she managed to look into my eyes, she could barely hold my gaze for long.
I drank in her beauty, reminding myself that I had made the right choice by marrying her.
Beneath the polished exterior was a woman with a broken heart.
Perhaps a part of me hated that I was the cause of her pain, but this had to be done.
It might have been selfish of me, but it was the right thing to do.
“Do you, Scarlett Carter…” the priest’s voice cut through my thoughts, “...take this man, Roman Tarasov, to be your lawfully wedded husband….”
I noticed the sweat glistening on her forehead and how her breath caught in her throat. The fear and pain in her eyes were masked with a soft expression. But I could see right through her.
She hesitated for a moment, her lips trembling as she stared at me, helpless and defeated. “Yes, I do.”
My lips twisted into a faint grin. I was pleased by her consent.
The priest faced me, repeating the same vows, and I gave the obvious answer.
“I do.”
We took turns sliding the rings onto each other’s fingers, and that’s when I noticed her shaking. Her hands trembled so badly that she almost dropped the ring, but luckily, she didn’t.
“With the power vested in me,” the priest continued, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
The crowd rose to their feet, erupting into applause.
I pulled her closer and sealed our union with a kiss, her soft lips quivering beneath mine. Hesitant but perfect. It was much sweeter than I imagined, even without depth or fervency.
The taste of her lips awakened something primal within me, something I hadn’t felt in all my years of kissing multiple women.
I saw a sparkle in her eyes when I pulled away, one I’d never seen before. I couldn’t tell what it was, only that it thawed something frozen inside me.
***
My master bedroom was dimly lit tonight, the air perfumed with roses and scented candles. The king-sized bed was meticulously made, with fresh sheets and thick blankets draped over the mattress.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her head bowed, manicured hands resting on her lap. The zipper of her white silk lace dress was halfway down her back, revealing the band of her black bra.
Seated on the sofa across from her, my gaze hovered over her body, drinking in the sight of her beauty. My tie was hanging loosely around my neck, my jacket was draped over the sofa’s headrest, and my eyes were pinned on her.
Just staring at her gorgeous body sent heatwaves crashing against me, accentuating my lust. I could feel my cock growing harder beneath my pants and my heart swelling with desire. The longer I gazed at her, the crazier I grew.
That kiss at the altar had awakened something in me, and all I wanted to do was claim her. Right here. Right now. But no. Scarlett was too broken, too afraid to even look me in the eyes. She must be waiting for me to make the move—to reach out and take what was mine.
As much as I would love to do just that, I couldn’t bring myself to claim a woman who didn’t want me. She said I was a monster—and she wasn’t wrong. But even a monster like me knew where to draw the line. I’d never taken a woman who didn’t want to be taken, and I wasn’t going to start now.
It didn’t matter how badly I wanted her; I wouldn’t claim her until I sensed that she wanted to be claimed.
“What’re you waiting for?” she asked, breaking the awkward silence between us. “Go ahead. Let’s get it over with.” The pain in her voice couldn’t be any more glaring.
I didn’t respond, just kept looking at her as she fought back the tears that welled in her eyes.
“I didn’t realize you were so eager for it,” I said, a teasing smirk lining a corner of my lips.
Silence.
She held my gaze, her chest rising and falling with slow, uneven breaths. Her eyes burned with a quiet fury that thawed my heart.
“Stand,” I said, my voice firm and authoritative.
Her brows knitted together for a second, as if processing what I was up to. A moment later, she reluctantly obeyed, rising to her feet.
I uncrossed my legs, my gaze unwavering as I rose from the sofa. With a deliberate slowness, I approached her, my shoes clicking against the marble floor. I watched her breath hitch the closer I drew to her, and when I halted before her, she dropped her eyes to the ground.
Her body stiffened as I raised her chin so she’d look me in the face. She locked her jaw, trying to mask her nervousness even though the heaving of her chest told a different tale.
I combed my fingers through her hair, my eyes boring into hers as the scent of her feminine perfume wafted into my nostrils. Her heart was pounding hard and fast, a testament to the fear coursing through her body.
I caressed her face with the back of my hand—tracing her jawline with a finger. “Since you’re so eager to consummate our marriage, perhaps we should do just that,” I said quietly, feeling the softness of her smooth skin beneath mine.
Her pulse quickened, and I could almost hear the sound of her racing heart. Her body was shaking, her lips trembling as she managed to look into my eyes as if pleading with my conscience.
“I am your husband now, meaning you belong to me and I can do with your body however I please,” I said, watching her shrink beneath my gaze. “You wouldn’t resist if I told you to lie back on the bed and surrender to me, now would you?”
Her breathing came in ragged gasps, her jaw tightening to conceal the emotions spreading across her body.
“Answer me,” I said. “Would you deny me what’s mine?”
She swallowed hard, then reluctantly shook her head.
“Say it.”
She hesitated, her breath hitched in her throat. “I won’t deny you what’s yours.”
My lips twisted into a self-satisfied smirk, knowing she was already starting to break little by little. “Good girl,” I whispered, withdrawing from her.
I walked back to the sofa and picked up my jacket as she watched me in silence. When I turned around and met her gaze, I saw the confusion in her eyes, unsure of what I was up to.
“Anticipation,” I said, “is its own kind of possession.” I paused, letting the words sink in for a minute. “Goodnight, milaya.”
Her brows furrowed, accentuating the bewilderment etched on her face as I walked out of the room. I left her untouched and restless, knowing she’d lie awake, questioning herself. For me, this was the first victory of many—obsession sharpened into a game that only I knew how to win.