Chapter 16 - Victoria
Having sex with Roman was unlike anything I had ever experienced before…and I was willing to acknowledge that.
After enduring that tension for far too long, it brought me a sense of ease to finally dive into it. To give in and follow that desire, even if it was a dangerous thing.
But now, he’s expecting more from me, and he’s not exactly accepting anything short of compliance.
He wants me in his bed again, and not just for sex.
In a way, part of me wishes that was all he wanted. At least then, it would be simpler…easier. If that were the case, I wouldn’t have to worry about the other aspects of our situation.
I hoped giving in would just be fun and act as an outlet for our pent-up emotions. Now I know I likely bit off more than I’d ever be capable of chewing.
We’re a complicated mess…of me resenting him for everything he has done to me, trying to fight him at every turn, and with Roman trying his hardest to form me into the wife he wants, almost like he’s trying to convince himself he hasn’t completely screwed up.
He wants to believe we’ll be fine, but I know better. We were doomed from the start—the moment he mistook me for another woman.
I think Roman believed I would change the moment we had sex…as if I’d suddenly fit within that domestic role he made just for me.
But I’ve made it my silent mission to do the opposite.
My protests are loud, and I know it’s driving him crazy.
He’s been trying so hard not to crack, but I know I’m wearing him down. His patience, while already precarious, has become even more so.
The tension in his shoulders, the ever-growing defeat in his gaze, and the near-teeth-crushing grit of his jaw reveal it all with absolute ease.
Despite all of his attempts to be calm, present, and even soft, he’s struggling.
If things were different, I wouldn’t waste my time being a pain in his ass, but given the world he’s used to operating in, I can’t pull my punches. He has grown far too accustomed to giving orders that he can’t stand it when I refuse in one way or another, and that only makes my job easier.
Regardless of how exhausting it is to maintain that air of indifference or find new ways to piss him off, I know I can’t stop until he gives up.
I’m tired of bending, and I’m tired of Roman believing he can keep me trapped in this one-sided deal.
In a way, I enjoy the power it gives me to refuse him and his attempts to shepherd me. While it might be an illusion of control—the only sense of control I’ve been able to feel since being roped into this mess—it’s better than being powerless.
In all of his commanding glory, a man like Roman knows how to make others feel small, even if it’s unintentional.
Despite how unforgettable it was to be tangled up in the sheets with him, I refuse to let him break me. To shape me into the wife he believes he deserves.
In the kitchen, I feel his eyes on me from the other side of the kitchen island while I slowly stir my tea.
Neither of us has said much of anything since getting up, and while it’s vaguely uncomfortable, I gain a sense of satisfaction from how irritated he looks because of it.
The spoon clinks quietly against the inner walls of the mug, and I can practically see him twitching with each ring of it.
Then, he murmurs, “Still not speaking?”
“I don’t have anything to say.”
“What, no sarcastic comments? No reasons why you can’t stand to be here?”
“You’re being dramatic,” I say calmly, halting my stirring as I lift the cup closer to my mouth.
“And you’re being unreasonably difficult. As always.”
It’s getting to him.
“Just because I’m not acting like your perfect little wife?”
His eyes reveal the way his patience slips further, but Roman sighs. “You say it like cooperating would be the worst thing in the world.”
A quiet huff escapes me. “It might be.”
Tired of my insolence, he gets up from his seat and barely looks at me. “Get dressed…we’re leaving in thirty. And don’t make me wait.”
Despite myself, his command catches my attention, and I pause. “Where are we going?”
“Out.”
I internally roll my eyes at the vague response, but I never should’ve expected anything different.
“Helpful.”
Without saying anything else, Roman disappears somewhere else in the house, leaving me to my devices.
A small part of me wants to stay in my sleepwear just to bother him, but I don’t.
Instead, I take thirty-one minutes to get ready, then I meet him in the foyer, where he stands with a vaguely unimpressed expression.
His gaze sweeps over me, quick yet slightly appreciative and frustrated, and then he opens the door and lets me go through first, following close behind.
Despite usually having someone drive us, Roman gets behind the wheel of one of his many high-end cars, settling on a more subtle option—sleek, black, and far too expensive for the average American. But in Vegas, it fits right in.
The drive is deadly quiet, but it isn’t much of a surprise.
When he pulls up to the restaurant with an open patio out front, Roman kills the engine and takes a breath. “Just try, alright?”
“Try what?”
“Being cordial…cooperative,” he murmurs, grabbing his cell before slipping it into his pocket. His eyes land on me, seemingly jumping to the chase, unwilling to let me ruin whatever he has planned. “And don’t make a scene.”
“With that shining mood of yours? You’ll end up causing the scene yourself.”
It’s a cheap shot, but it still seems to annoy him.
Instead of fully rising to the bait, he pops the door open, then circles the car and does the same for me before I can do it myself.
The gesture both irritates me and sends a subtle sense of satisfaction through me, and then I reluctantly follow his lead inside.
The building is warm and full of minimalist decor that’s both clean and bathed in soft light. The raw-edge tables are sleek and fit the aesthetic to a T, and every perfectly placed plant ties it all together.
It doesn’t exactly strike me as the kind of place Roman would frequent, but he seems at ease there, like it’s a familiar spot.
Without needing to give the hostess his name, we’re led to a more private table tucked away in the back, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows that let in an abundance of light.
And, of course, those faces with a striking resemblance to his are already looking over at us.
His brothers are still mostly intimidating with their intense demeanors, but at least Elena seems gentle in contrast, helping to smooth out those rough edges.
“Good, you’re here!” She says, already sipping from a mimosa. She waves us over with a smile.
“Late as always…some example you are,” Sergey says with a faint grin on his lips.
At the tease, and from being surrounded by his family, some of Roman’s previous strain melts away, and he huffs before pulling out my chair.
“You’re just annoyingly early. You should try not showing me up.”
The others chuckle, and he follows suit after I take my seat.
It shouldn’t be much of a surprise to see him looking comfortable and relaxed around his siblings, but it still catches me off guard.
There’s a gentleness behind his eyes that is often restrained, especially when I’m doing the opposite of being cooperative . But at this moment, while his brothers easily jump into their dominating conversations, he doesn’t hold back.
When the others speak, he looks at them fondly, as if he’s truly glad to be here…like he has known the fear of potentially losing them and this peace he clearly cherishes.
As if he’s well aware that this is exactly what he fights for.
Eventually, our food arrives, and Ivan sighs once the servers leave again, picking at the food on his plate. “Whose bright idea was it to come here again?”
“Mine,” Elena says simply, looking more than in her element while she sips from a green smoothie.
“Why does it look like they put lawn clippings on my plate?”
She scoffs. “It’s good for you…you don’t need to consume your weight in red meat every day.”
Ivan, still displeased, at least attempts to try it despite his grimace. “I’m not a rabbit.”
Elena rolls her eyes while the others garner some amusement from Ivan’s quiet complaining, and then she shifts her attention to me. “If I ever have the chance to reincarnate one day, don’t let me be born into a family with this much testosterone again.”
Despite myself, a small smile pulls at my lips, able to see how she’d find herself being overwhelmed by them, or, at the very least, caught in a unique experience.
“Yet you love us anyway,” Mikhail hums, throwing her a teasing glance.
“That remains to be seen.”
The others get a bit rowdier at her comeback, both laughing and egging her on further.
“So cold, and to think we granted you the great power of choosing the restaurant today,” Sergey chimes in, also seemingly less than impressed with the food in front of him.
Ivan still grumbles to himself, having a hard time enjoying his meal. “We’re revoking that privilege.”
“You are not…and stop complaining,” Elena mumbles, glaring at him with minimal heat behind it. “You’re all about fitness and staying in shape, so you should thank me for being considerate.”
“She isn’t wrong…you’re all too indulgent,” Roman adds, letting a small grin pull at his lips while he eats without causing any fuss.
Elena smiles triumphantly at that, quietly throwing it back at her other brothers. “See? Roman always gets it.”
“ Kiss-ass ,” Sergey says under his breath, concealing it poorly with an exaggerated cough.
While they chuckle at her expense, Roman reaches over and lightly smacks him over the back of the head—it’s more so a harmless warning than anything too intense.
“You should be kissing her ass for putting up with you.”
At this, they all laugh harder, and Elena seems to take great joy in being stood up for.
Despite the slight scolding, more of that care comes out in the way Roman defends his younger sister, and despite myself, I’ve seen glimpses of it before.
I’ve seen it in the way he drapes a blanket over me if I start to drift on the couch…in the way he glances at me throughout dinner, as if quietly asking if the meal is to my liking…in the light but almost protective way he braces a hand against my lower back when we go anywhere.
That gentle side has been coming out more often than before, regardless of not wanting to admit it.
It seems he has been changing, even if only slightly.
Annoyingly, it only makes everything else harder. It makes my desire to ruin his life harder to follow through with.
With a small smile, Elena looks at me again. “Do you have any siblings, Victoria?”
I perk up slightly from being questioned, and I clear my throat. “No…none that I know of, anyway. I bounced from family to family.”
At once, the mood seems to drop into something a bit somber as my answer registers. Although I feel Mikhail’s eyes on me more intensely than the others, but I try to ignore it.
Elena’s expression softens. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to pry.”
Even if the reminder stings slightly, I don’t want her to feel bad about it—not when she means well.
I press a polite smile. “It’s alright. No harm done.”
She nods, seemingly letting the slight awkwardness slide right off her back. “Our group must be overwhelming to an only child.”
“Why do you think we’re always strategically seated in the farthest corners of every restaurant?” Roman proposes while reaching over to ruffle Sergey’s hair, contrasting the previous ribbing.
Sergey chuckles and swats his hand away. “Couldn’t possibly be to hide that ugly mug of yours…”
The table hums with their combined amusement, and it doesn’t take long for more conversation to break out among them.
In a way, seeing how Roman interacts with his siblings and knowing how he tries to apply similar care to me brings a new wave of guilt over me.
Regardless of how cold he can be, it’s obvious that vulnerability isn’t an easy thing for him to show, and I’m well aware I’ve been stomping all over it over the last few weeks.
Still, I can’t just forget about everything…how Roman’s intensity is the reason I’m even with him, and he never gave me a choice in the matter.
While I admire the way he treats his siblings and finds a sense of belonging and pride among them, I can’t overlook everything else. I can’t just ignore the way he has completely robbed me of everything I made for myself, even if he tries to repackage it as him helping me.
The way he smiles and banters with his family warms my heart to some degree, and despite my reluctance surrounding it all, there is something attractive about it.
But I’m not prepared to tell him that part.