Chapter 9 #3
For the first time in ten years, I'd woken after a long, quiet night without a single assault of fear. My breathing was even. My body felt the pleasant soreness of complete relaxation.
The other side of the bed was empty, but the sheets still held faint warmth and his cool scent.
I pushed myself up and immediately spotted Roman standing by the floor-to-ceiling window.
He'd changed into an impeccably tailored charcoal suit that emphasized his tall, powerful frame. He was fastening a cuff with one hand when he heard me stir and turned around.
The man who'd held me last night, patiently guiding me through darkness, had transformed back into the suited head of the Sokolov family. But somehow, looking into those deep brown eyes, the ever-present wariness and defensiveness I usually felt had miraculously melted away.
"Awake?" His voice was low and steady, without its usual tension.
"Yeah..." I rubbed my eyes, voice hoarse from sleep.
Roman's gaze lingered on my face for a moment before he walked to the bed and handed me a glass of warm water.
"Get cleaned up. Sofia's already packed your bags downstairs."
I took the glass naturally and sipped, then looked up in confusion. "Bags? Where are we going?"
"The Bahamas. The Sokolov family's private island." Roman watched me with mild amusement, mouth curving slightly. "We're going on our honeymoon."
I nearly choked, eyes widening at him. "Honeymoon? Roman, are you serious? After what happened last night, we're just going to jet off to some island resort?"
"Because of last night, we have to go." Roman pulled out a tissue and wiped the water from my lips with complete naturalness, as if we really were an ordinary married couple.
He sat on the bed's edge, brown eyes meeting mine.
"Forget your job description already? The FBI's organized crime unit isn't idiots.
That old fox Miller has eyes on the manor 24/7.
A high-profile 'mafia wedding' that just survived a church shooting—if we don't follow it up with an appropriately matched honeymoon, you think they'll believe we're a loving couple? "
I held the glass, listening to his explanation.
He was right. Besides, after last night, I really did need to get away from Chicago and catch my breath. And as long as I was with this man, wherever we went, it seemed to mean absolute safety.
"Fine." I sighed in surrender, setting the glass on the nightstand. "How long?"
"One month. Private jet takes off in thirty minutes."
The moment Roman finished speaking, his gaze dropped to my left hand resting on the blanket.
I followed his line of sight. That perfectly cut emerald ring sat quietly on my ring finger, refracting deep, enchanting light in the morning sun.
Oh, so much had happened yesterday I'd completely forgotten about it!
I moved to take it off and return it to Roman, but he stopped me.
"Looks like you're quite fond of this ring, Mrs. Sokolova." A low, pleased laugh rumbled in his throat. He reached out, his large, rough palm completely enveloping my left hand, thumb stroking the emerald's edge with deliberate provocation, along with the sensitive skin at the base of my finger.
"I..." I froze, then my cheeks burst into flames like I'd been caught red-handed. I stammered like a thief. "I just... just forgot!"
I tried to pull my hand back, but he held tight, giving me no escape.
"Forgot?" Roman raised an eyebrow, his handsome face radiating disbelief, voice dropping to a dangerously magnetic pitch. "I thought wearing it made you feel safer. Or maybe... made you feel like even with your eyes closed, I was still right beside you?"
"Roman Sokolov!" I glared at him. "Your narcissism could win a Guinness World Record! Who needs you around? I'm just wearing it to ward off evil spirits!"
"Ward off evil?" Roman's chest shook with laughter.
Not only did he not release my hand, he pulled it to his lips and pressed a light but searing kiss on my skin, less than an inch from the emerald.
"Then keep wearing it. Everywhere. Don't take it off." He looked up, gaze burning into mine.
The heat from his palm and the electric current from that kiss traveled up my hand straight into my heart, sending my heartbeat into complete chaos.
I bit my lip and looked away, finding myself completely unable to snap back at him like before. Worse—there was a secret joy blooming inside me that I didn't dare acknowledge.
Roman watched my flushed profile, amusement spreading through his eyes. He stood, looking down at me, and ruffled my hair with casual ease.
"Go get changed. I'll wait for you downstairs."
He turned toward the door. As he pulled it open, he glanced back, sunlight carving out his perfect profile.
"Fair warning, sweetheart." His voice carried wickedly amused laughter. "The sea turtles in the Bahamas won't hold you when you have nightmares. So you'd better pray I'm in a good mood on that island."
The door clicked shut.
I sat alone on the bed, feeling the cool weight of the ring on my finger, covering my burning face with both hands.
God.
I groaned in agony and collapsed back into the soft blankets.
Damn it, could he please stop seducing me?