Chapter 16 – Roman
The scent of her arousal lingered in the air long after she was gone, a constant reminder of what happened within these walls. I sat in my chair in the dimly lit office, reminiscing about our time together.
I didn’t plan to take her tonight, but things spiraled out of control, and everything happened so fast. The sound of her moans still echoed in the back of my mind, reminding me of how sweet she was. I’d yet to come to terms with the fact that we had sex and that it was better than I imagined.
I drew a deep breath, inhaling the traces of her signature scent lingering in the atmosphere. The image of her face contorted in pleasure flooded my mind, making my cock swell within my pants.
My fingers combed through my hair, my heart warm with something I refused to believe was affection. Even though I’d spent the last hour or so thinking about her, I told myself there was no way what I felt was affection.
It was just casual sex—something to feed my lust and remind her that she belonged to me. Nothing serious. She wasn’t the first woman I’d been with, and she wouldn’t be the last. There was absolutely nothing special about the sex, nothing special about her. She was just a regular girl.
But if that were the case, why did her memory linger even long after she left the office? If the sex didn’t mean anything to me, why couldn’t I get her out of my head?
The more I tried to bury the memory, the more the images of her face flooded my mind, cutting deeper than they should. My lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk when I recalled the way she tried to mask her arousal with defiance.
A part of me couldn’t help thinking that she probably came into my office with the hopes of getting my attention. When she walked in, the scent of her perfume filled the space, strong and intoxicating, like she had just put it on before she arrived.
Her lipstick was very fresh—warm, the color vibrant on her lips, hinting that she’d applied it minutes before she waltzed into my office. Also, her oversized cotton sweater slipped off one shoulder, revealing a thin strap of her lacy bra, and she never bothered to adjust it.
These were all signs that she came prepared, even though she’d never admit it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t drown the sound of her moans, nor could I block the images flashing in my mind.
The fact that she unraveled under me, broke but never fully yielded, sparked something strange inside me.
I rubbed my eyes, wondering why she was living rent-free in my head despite all my attempts to get her out. It unsettled me that her face was etched into my mind and that some sort of addiction was gradually forming.
It was just casual sex. It shouldn’t mean so much to me. Yet it did.
To force her out of my head, I decided to bury myself in work, reviewing shipments and barking orders. Even that didn’t help, considering how my mind kept drifting back to Scarlett—her moans, the defiance in her eyes, and the way her body responded to my touch.
I stared at the lit screen in front of me, fingers rubbing my temples, unable to focus on anything productive. I reclined in my chair, swiping a hand through my hair, frustrated by this welcome distraction.
A single knock on the door stole my attention, my eyes darting toward the entrance. For a second there, I thought it was Scarlett—I hoped it was her—and my heart skipped a beat.
However, it wasn’t her. It was just Sergei.
He walked into my office, then slowed mid-stride, his eyes roaming the space with a hint of suspicion. He lowered his head, taking in the books scattered across the floor and the glint of buttons strewn near the table.
His brows rose by a fraction when he met my gaze.
My hair was a mess, the buttons on my undershirt ripped off, and the air reeked of sex. Of course, he understood what had happened here.
His lips twisted into a faint smirk as he stepped forward with a file in his hand. “Quite the scene,” he said, letting out a soft chuckle. “I didn’t think she was gonna let you smash so early. Guess even the Ice Queen melts eventually.”
This wasn’t the first time he made teasing remarks like that about my lovers, but this was the first time it didn’t sit well with me. My brows knitted together, displeased by the disrespect in his tone and the mocking glint in his eyes.
“Watch your tongue, Sergei,” I growled, my voice edged with steel. “Don’t forget your place.”
His eyes squinted, shocked by my response, and I watched the humor drain from his face. “Apologies, Boss, I thought—”
“You thought wrong,” I cut him off, cold as ice. “She is my wife, and you will accord her the same respect as me. Understood?”
He locked his jaw and straightened his spine. “Yes, Boss.”
I didn’t expect to be so pained by his usual remark about those random girls I used to bring home. His words seemed like an attack on Scarlett, and I couldn’t take it. But why was that? Why had I stood up for her the way I did?
I’d told myself countless times within the last hour or so that she didn’t mean anything to me.
She was just another woman I slept with.
Nevertheless, deep down in my heart, I knew it wasn’t true.
Scarlett was different. Not only because she was my wife, but because there was something about her that set her apart from the others.
One thing was certain: She was no random girl. And as much as I tried to convince myself that the sex was casual, I knew it was more than that.
It was something far more dangerous, something reckless, and the worst part was that I liked the feeling.
***
The following day, I decided to show her off to my associates and business partners at a gala I was invited to. I had the maids, Nikki and Natasha, make her up so she’d look the part and easily blend in with the elites.
I stood in the downstairs living room, glancing at my watch every now and then, wondering what was taking so long. They’d been up there for about an hour, getting her ready for the event.
My feet tapped against the marble floor, my polished shoes glinting in the soft light. With each passing minute, I felt my patience growing thinner. I could excuse my new bride’s ignorance about how much I hated to be kept waiting—but not the maids. They should’ve known better.
Just when I was about to lose my temper, the scent of her perfume drifted lazily into my nostrils. I raised my head toward the curved staircase leading to the living room, and my heart stopped for a moment.
My brows arched in astonishment as I watched her gracefully walk down the stairs, exuding an air of confidence and style.
Her short blonde hair was styled to perfection, with a few strands framing her face.
I almost didn’t recognize her because she looked even more gorgeous than she had on our wedding day.
She was wearing the red dress I’d personally gotten for her, and it hugged her in all the right places. The hem flowed at her feet as she moved, the daring slit on the side of the fabric exposing teasing glimpses of her alluring thighs.
The gown accentuated her figure, and the heels on her feet made her look inches taller. Her makeup was so light and natural that it blended with her skin tone. She descended the stairs like a goddess from Greek mythology, her manicured fingers brushing along the polished railing.
Damn.
I almost lost my composure but kept my excitement in check.
Scarlett was insanely attractive, and I had no doubt that her presence by my side would turn heads at the gala. She reached the base of the stairs and kept her eyes locked on me, her waist swaying as she moved.
Wow.
I dug my hand in my pocket, watching her approach me like a beauty queen. Her eyes sparkled in a way I hadn’t seen before, with a glint of mirth dancing beneath the surface.
When she stopped in front of me, I nearly lost my voice, mesmerized by her beauty. She stared into my eyes like nothing had happened between us last night. But I knew it was all just an act to make me think the incident meant nothing to her.
I was tempted to compliment, to tell her how gorgeous she looked, how elegantly she glowed. However, on second thought, I kept my remarks to myself.
“Let’s go,” I said, wearing my usual cold attitude. “We’re late already.”
As though she was expecting the attitude or was already used to it, her expression didn’t shift—not a single bit.
***
With her hand locked in my elbow, she sashayed her way by my side, our footsteps slow and measured. The moment we waltzed into the grand hall, heads turned in our direction—awe and fascination flickering in the onlookers’ eyes.
The air was filled with the soft hum of conversations as guests—dressed to impress hung around in small groups. Expensive watches and jewelry glinted in the lights, a public show of wealth and power.
These were the crème de la crème of society, the elites who made decisions and ran the city behind closed doors. This was supposed to be a gala dinner, and on the surface, that’s what it was; that’s what it looked like.
To the ordinary folks who’d come here to have a great time, this was nothing but a gathering of powerful men and women, seeking to make the city a better place.
In reality, though, this was an event where life-changing deals were made with devils like me underground.
These political leaders and the societal elites weren’t the saints that the people thought they were. No. Far from it. They were greedy bastards, selfish pigs who’d watch the city burn so long as their pockets were full.
These hypocrites didn’t care about the people; they didn’t care about anything that didn’t involve increasing their wealth and status. They abused their offices, misused their power. And instead of building the city, they were the ones destroying it from the inside.
Yet to everyone else, men like me were the bad guys. How ironic!