38. Rosenna
Chapter thirty-eight
Rosenna
L ooking at my computer screen, I felt as though my eyes were deceiving me.
Two million dollars. Two million dollars on opening night, not counting Mr. Howe’s secret purchase or, rather, the donation that he and Vincent put together. The expenses of the night totaled less than twenty grand, and we made two million.
Sitting in my office as I read the projected net on my computer screen, I couldn’t help but shake my head in disbelief. It worked. We actually did it…
Standing up from my chair, I gazed outside the window as the sun was setting. I was one of the last left in the building as Kira went to Vincent’s office to finalize some of his own purchases.
Gavin ended up being called back to the office before Kira could run him around the building, and Beckham didn’t show for the night. Just as I knew he wouldn’t.
Walking out into the gallery, I wandered over to the most discussed showroom of the night. I’d avoided it like the plague, but now that I was alone, I found myself standing inside as I admired it.
Each of Beckham’s paintings represented different aspects of my time with him. Anger, reluctance, acceptance, desire …
Each painting had a different name. Treasure Me, Worship Me, Adore Me, Cherish Me… Love Me. It was beautiful. Our photos together, the way his hands caressed me. And his sculptures, depicting each of my insecurities in the most beautiful way possible.
From the roses that hung from the ceiling to the painting under my feet, I felt absolutely cherished. I felt seen, understood, and appreciated… all of the feelings he’d already made me feel had been confirmed here in this room. There was no doubt he loved me. I was just too stupid to realize it.
Hearing footsteps behind me, I wiped away my tears as I looked over my shoulder. My heart raced as I made eye contact with the man himself—the man who did his job of breaking and mending me all at the same time.
“Beckham,” I whispered.
He placed his hands in his pockets as he gazed around the room. “Not a very subtle way of exposing our affair, I suppose.”
I gave a small smile as I followed his eyes as I shook my head.
“Believe me, I was absolutely livid before the event.”
His eyes returned to mine silently.
“And now?”
I shook my head. “Now, I’ve confirmed that you truly are insane, but at least I can appreciate your artwork”
He nodded, his gaze lowering, and my face went red as his eyes landed on my ringless finger.
“You’re not wearing your ring…”
I shrugged lightly as I was reminded of the countless times I’d taken it off while I was with him in his warehouse.
I’d always wear it otherwise, almost as if it were a shield, a reminder of my past of some kind. Now… now it didn’t feel right in the middle of Gavin and I still on bad terms. Wearing it after all Beckham and I had been through, what we’d shared, what we’d experienced, it felt like I was betraying him in some way.
“Didn’t feel right wearing it…” I responded softly.
Beckham didn’t say anything. His eyes lingered on me for a moment, and I noticed a familiar look in them: possessiveness, desire… and another very intense emotion I wasn’t quite used to seeing. He’d given me the same look before, when he looked at me without me knowing, when he was cherishing me… when he put me back together after Gavin had torn me down.
Throughout our so-called relationship, I wanted to believe he truly couldn’t exhibit emotions or feelings, that this was all because he lacked the ability to understand his own emotions, that his obsession with me was purely driven by desire and fixation.
Simply examining the way he was looking at me now to the way he looked at me before, I couldn’t help but feel foolish. And as much as I wanted to deny our growing connection each and every time I recalled I had a husband waiting at home for me, I knew I was only lying to myself. We both were.
“I missed you, Flower,” he uttered, approaching me slowly.
My heart fluttered as I openly wanted to admit that I possibly missed him more. Waiting for him to call me every morning or night with my hand itching over the call button, longing to be held in his arms again, hoping to feel his lips on my skin…
“Beckham...” I whispered, my voice barely audible as the air between us began to thicken. His hand slowly rose, landing softly on my cheek. I leaned into his embrace slightly, my hand rising to hold his wrist. As he caressed my cheek lovingly, my heart felt content as I was reunited with him, feeling his unique touch once again.
“This room expresses my love for you, my obsession, and my absolute need to possess your mind, body, soul, and heart. I’ve given you… everything of me, and I want—I need you to put me out of my misery.”
I shook my head as he wiped away a fallen tear with his thumb. “How?” I whispered.
“Tell me there was nothing between us,” he began, and I gulped softly. “Tell me it was all in my head and that you want nothing to do with me, and I’ll leave.”
I didn’t utter a single word. Beckham breathed me in as his other hand came up to my face, and I leaned farther into his touch. My own breathing felt labored as it took everything in me not to melt into his embrace.
“Or you can tell me you love me. It’s that simple.”
I sniffled. “You know it’s not that simple,” I whispered as my heart clenched. It would never be that simple or easy.
“It can be, Flower… you deserve to be loved. You deserved to be desired, cherished, adored. If you don’t think we’d work out… if you’re afraid of leaving Gavin, I understand. If you don’t think I’m capable of loving you… I understand that, too. But I wouldn’t be able to show you how much I do unless you let me try.”
“There has always been something between us, Beckham. I’m just confused…”
His thumbs continued to caress my cheeks, urging me to keep my thoughts going even though I felt like a complete mess. “I cheated on my husband and fell in love with you. Does that not make me a bad person? The love I had for him? Gone. All of those years… wasted. I ruined my marriage. I don’t deserve to be happy,” I muttered with a shake of my head.
His hands tightened against my face. “Rosenna, look at me. You deserve every bit of happiness this world has to offer, that I want to give to you. You didn’t ruin your marriage, not if it was broken already. You’ve seen me cherish you. You’ve experienced me worshipping you. You know you deserve the world… and you know he doesn’t deserve you.”
“And how do I know this isn’t just another one of my mistakes? How do I know what we have is real?” I whispered, but he didn’t seem to have the words to satisfy my worries.
His hand left my face after a moment, and I was left feeling cold at the loss of his touch.
However, I found myself growing hot as his hand circled my waist as he walked to stand behind me. As he wrapped his other hand around me, I shuddered as he leaned into my ear. My face burned red as he took in my scent, showing how much he yearned to have me in his hold once again.
“Look around and tell me again if you believe what we have isn’t real.”
I swallowed hard, the intensity of his presence overwhelming my senses yet again. Slowly, I let my eyes roam the room once more, taking in every detail and element. The paintings, the sculptures, the roses hanging from the ceiling—each piece was a testament to his devotion. Every brushstroke and curve of the sculptures spoke of his love, obsession, and need to possess me completely.
Feeling him place a small kiss on my neck, my knees grew weak at the effect he had on me. In response, he held me closer, probably in fear that I might slip from his hands once again.
“Look at the portraits, Flower… Look at the detail in each stroke, the precision to understand your mind and body…”
I found myself paying less attention to the room and more attention to his hands that ran up and down my waist softly.
“Look at how I’ve captured you, Rosenna,” he whispered in my ear, and I couldn’t help but think of the multiple meanings of his words.
Not only has he captured me in his art, but he’s captured my heart. He’s captured my body, and as his hand traveled up my chest and finds my neck, I realize he had captured me entirely. As he leaned my head back, my neck at the mercy of his hand, I saw the love, I saw the passion, and I saw the possessiveness in his eyes. And I know I couldn’t fight him. I know I couldn’t pull away. Because I belonged to him…
In an instant, his lips found mine, and immediately, my hands went into his hair as I pulled him even closer, if that was possible. Our tongues battled for dominance as we practically devoured one another, though I didn’t care. He was the air I breathed. I didn’t want to realize it, but I knew it was true.
He maneuvered us so that he could pick me up, my arms and legs wrapping around him. Our lips stayed connected, almost as if we would burn if they were separated. He stepped away from the exhibit with me in his arms, and soon, I find myself lying back on the couch in my office, not realizing when he’d walked us over here.
Biting my lip as he pulled away, I let out a small gasp as he gripped my hair in his hand, jerking me close to him. His eyes gazed at me hungrily, and I found myself submitting effortlessly in his hold.
“You’re mine, Flower,” he growled.
A needy moan escaped my throat as I nodded helplessly. “I’m yours, Beckham.”
Sadistic smile widening as he grew pleased with my submission, he pulled off his shirt before tossing it to the corner of the room.
Running my hands over his defined chest as my body wanted to be closer to him, I watched him unbutton my pants before he pulled them off along with my heels. As he pushed my lace panties to the side, I could only throw my head back with a whine as my hips moved with their own mind.
Soon, however, he gripped my thighs in both of his hands before pulling me closer to his mouth as another gasp escaped me. It caught in my throat as his tongue found my clit as he hungrily devoured me.
I immediately grabbed at his hair to slow him, though it was pointless as my orgasm built over the top in a matter of seconds, and I came as my legs quivered in his hold.
Once he’d had his fill, lapping up my cunt like he’d never tasted anything better, my mind went limp as he pushed his cock into me, holding me still against the couch as he pumped into me.
Grabbing at his wrists that held my waist firm, my heart fluttered as I looked up to see him already gazing down at me. Although I probably looked an absolute mess as he practically fucked my brains out, he was still looking at me like I was his . Like there was nothing else in the world but the two of us.
His hands caught my jaw, and I whined softly as his thrusts went deeper. His fingers gripped my face as he stared into my eyes sadistically.
“You’re leaving that motherfucker. Do you understand me? He doesn’t deserve you. If I ever see you wearing that fucking ring, I will break your finger , and I will make sure the only ring you ever think to put on is mine. Because you belong to me,” he seethed.
I stared at him in shock, mainly because he was insane but partially because his possessiveness, for some fucked-up reason, made me even more wet and aroused than I was before.
Giving him a compliant nod as he placed another passionate kiss on my lips, I screamed into his mouth as I came, my legs trembling around his frame as he continued with little to no mercy. The feeling of being utterly ruined by him left me dazed and breathless as I only wanted more.
For some time now, I had been doubting whether or not this was love, whether or not I was simply going through the motions of giving into my midlife crisis.
But now… Now, I’m embracing what we have. Whether what Beckham and I shared was love or desire and yearning, we still had something unique. Something special, passionate .
It was something that finally made me feel alive. Something that ignited the fire in me that longed to burn after my loveless marriage had extinguished it long ago.
In his eyes, I was more than a broken woman or simply someone’s wife. I was his obsession, I was his muse , and he, in turn, became mine . Wrapping my arms around his neck as his hold softened on my face, he caressed my cheek as I whispered the words I’d been dying to tell him.
“I love you, Beckham.”
My voice broke, the soft words a stark contrast to his brutal pace. He’d become my ruining, and he was glad that was the case.
Almost like he couldn’t believe I’d said the words, his grip on me tightened once more, his breath hitching as if my words were what would undo him.
And with another deep passionate kiss to the lips, as he rested his forehead against mine, he choked out the same words that filled my heart with delight, cumming with a force that was desperate to seal our fate.
“And I love you, my beautiful flower.”