CHAPTER 4 ROMAN
ROMAN
Every single person out there believes that men rule the world.
The women think it, the men live it, but the truth is…
men are only ever as powerful as the woman standing beside them.
We see it in history time and time again; politicians and kings cannot reign without a strong woman by their side, but the females…
they make waves without ever needing a man to support them.
You see, it is the women children run to without thinking. It is the women men crave without understanding why. It is the women the world instinctively trusts, even when they are afraid to admit it.
But I am not afraid.
My dad made sure I knew from an exceedingly early age just how important the woman I chose was going to be… and I made my choice three years ago.
Sure, she does not know she is my queen yet…but she will.
I have been obsessed with her since the moment I saw her. I watched the way a room shifted around her without her even realising. The way all eyes turned to her beauty as she holds something none of them can name but all of them feel.
Her strength and beauty is not loud, nor forced, it just exists, and that makes her far more dangerous than anything The Company has ever tried to create and the perfect person to bear my name and children.
It is why I tolerated her annoying brother for so long.
I mean, sure, he would say we are best friends, but I am not entirely convinced you are supposed to fantasise about driving a knife through your best friend’s throat as often as I do.
Although, in my defence, he does drink my milk straight from the bottle, which I think justifies at least some level of violence.
Emotions and I have never mixed well. The only one that has ever managed to exist without irritating me is the one tied to her.
For a while I was confused by how I felt, how she managed to infect me with a look or a smile.
It was only when I realised her touch was welcome on my body that I understood I was probably in love.
I had to ask my mum what love actually was and she told me it was sacrifice. So… I sacrificed. It started with befriending her twin, then dealing with a group of rowdy men. It then went to infected milk bottles and filthy cars. Whatever Felix threw at me, I took. Because I am in love.
And love is sacrifice.
And finally, my patience is being rewarded.
For the next twenty-four hours, Tinkerbell is mine.
I jump out of my car and walk up the cobblestones to the house I share with the other boys.
Our five-bedroom house was built in 1589.
Its crooked Tudor frame and whitewashed walls lean with quiet confidence as the black timbers cut across it like old scars.
The red tiled roof slopes steeply beneath the grey sky.
Acres of manicured land stretch around the property, as our groundskeeper is still out working to keep up the illusion of a homely space. Trimmed hedges, singular trees and rose bushes line the garden, giving the impression that respectable people live here.
But we are not respectable. We are the monsters children are warned about in spooky stories growing up.
The Company owns the house. We are taken off campus after the first year and provided with suitable housing close by, all paid for, of course.
We have a personal chef, a groundskeeper, as well as a couple of housekeepers to help with our laundry and rooms. Well, to help with everyone else’s.
The last housekeeper who came into my room left crying and quit the next day.
I do not feel bad about it.
One of the first things I was taught as a child is not to touch something that does not belong to you.
I will never get over the rage I felt when I saw her picking up my little one’s underwear like it belonged to her.
I was furious. Then I had to burn it because it had been contaminated.
I am quite sure I felt a touch of sadness that day.
I shudder at the memory just as my phone beeps.
Fae:
I just got back home. Are you coming here or shall we meet at the hotel?
Roman:
I will meet you at yours. I need to get something that will help with the task. DO NOT LEAVE WITHOUT ME
I sigh and pocket my phone as I realise she is not going to respond. Trust me to get obsessed with the most hardheaded, infuriatingly beautiful person in the world.
I still remember the first time I saw her and knew how screwed I was.
Long, pale, toned legs caught my eye first, and when I trailed up her body, I realised that if God did exist he made her for me.
The number of times I have fantasised about wrapping my hand in the silky strands of her brown hair is unhealthy.
Her green eyes and perfect pouty lips have been burned into my memory lately, and while I have yet to see her fully naked, I can already picture the curve of her breasts and how pink her cunt would be.
The nights she is so wasted she cannot help but come up and grind on me are the best. I have thought about just taking her right then and there.
The only thing stopping me is that I don’t want her intoxicated for our first time.
No, when we finally come together, she will remember every dirty little detail.
It doesn’t stop me from groping her though. Her arse is so full even my 6ft 6 hands can’t contain it and her waist is so small my hands can touch when I place them on either side. Another shiver runs through me and I adjust my cock in my jeans as the blood rushes straight to it.
Opening the front door, I step onto the wooden floor and make my way up to the first floor.
My room is at the bottom of the corridor.
I have six exits, all easily accessible through windows in case of an emergency.
The boys each think they have the best spot for safety reasons, but they are all wrong.
I do. Not only do I have multiple reinforced windows I can jump from, but I am also the last in the corridor.
Four men stand between me and an intruder.
I don’t think you can get much safer than that. Fools.
I keep my room deliberately dark; the walls are soaked in shadow like they are holding their breath.
Black shelves line the far wall with sculptures and relics I have collected over the years, random to others but purposeful to me.
Framed art marches across the walls in strict order and perfectly aligned.
The bed sits low and heavy in the centre, dressed in charcoal and slate.
Nothing here is accidental. Every line, every object is placed with intent. A glass-topped table holds books, while the shelves carry things I do not want touched. The space smells faintly of jasmine and wood; remnants of my favourite cologne that linger in the seams.
This is where I think, where I plan, where I am most myself. This is where the magic happens. This is where weapons are born.
Strolling over to my walk-in wardrobe, I make a beeline for the back. Punching in my six-digit code, I open the fake door and step in. The hidden room resembles more of a hospital room than anything else. It is clinical and clean, but I do my best work in these sorts of environments.
How else could a genius create? I am not sure if The Company knows about all the weapons I am developing, but I suspect they know of a few. That suspicion only grew when I got that text today.
Everyone was right, it was strange that I had to go with Fae. However, I don’t think it is Fae they are testing. I think it is me.
I have just developed a poison. It is an odour-free, colourless liquid that, when ingested, causes a heart attack that appears to have occurred naturally. I am going to have to brainstorm with Tink when I get there. I suspect this is the real test, if we do not deliver, well… that is not an option.
I pick up the antidote as well as a vial of poison and make my way back to the car.
Starting the ignition on my Aston Martin DBX, I make the quick drive over to Fae’s flat. It is nowhere near as flashy as ours is. Both Robyn and Fae made that choice themselves. Them wanting to live only with each other limited what The Company could provide.
Knocking on the door, I wait for her to answer. A couple of minutes go by and I start getting antsy. Knocking again, I debate whether I should just pick the locks when my beautiful queen opens the door.
I cannot control myself whenever I am around her.
I take a good look at her, always starting on her legs as I slowly peruse up her body until I am met with those beautiful moss green eyes.
It’s not a figment of my imagination that she does it to me too and it has taken a lot of practice not to show the glee on my face when I notice.
Fae opens the door wider and as she takes a step back I am hit in the face by her addictive vanilla and honey scent.
“Make yourself at home,” her overly bright voice says, causing me to pause. Looking down at her, I realise her usually vibrant green eyes are rimmed with red, telling me she has been crying.
“What’s wrong?” I demand.
“Nothing,” she sighs. “Just one of those days. I will be better when we have Robyn home and this task over and done with.”
“Okay, well, let us get to it. I have got a product I think The Company wants us to use. The only problem is I am not sure how we can administer it without it being too obvious.”
“Well, give me what you have and we will see what we can do. I have already done some reconnaissance; we have got approximately two hours until we need to be at the hotel to make contact with the target.”
I nod, making my way over to the sofa. Sitting down, I spread my legs wide and reach into my pocket. Bringing out the two vials of liquid, I nod to each one to get her attention.
“This here is called Widow’s Grace.” I shake one of the vials.
“This here is its antidote.” I shake the other.
“It is designed to be ingested by the target. Between thirty to forty minutes after consumption, a heart attack will occur. It is untraceable, odourless, and gives his poor widow some peace.”
“Hmm.” Fae muses. “So, if I were to get it on my body, I’d have thirty to forty minutes to drink the antidote to save my life?”
“Yes,” I reply simply.
“Great.” She claps her hands and walks over to me. “I’ll be taking these.” She snaps the vials out of my hand before I can even react and starts retreating into her room. Standing up slowly, I follow her.
“We are a team on this, remember, Tink. I need to know your plans for your safety.”
“Yes, sir,” her sinful lips say and my cock stirs at the image of her on her knees saying that to me. “I know the rules.”
She turns her back to me as I scramble to follow her to her room. I come to a stop as my jaw falls open. Her once perfectly organised bedroom is destroyed. Artwork, mirrors, photo frames all smashed. Upon closer inspection, I notice her bed has been destroyed too.
“What the fuck, Tink?” I bark, making her jump. “Did someone break in?”
“Oh that? No, that was me versus a bat.” Her sweet-as-honey smirk slides across her face as my lips twitch.
“Who won?”
“The bat did, obviously,” she responds in the most ‘duh’ sounding voice I think I have ever heard.
Against my better judgement, a laugh trickles out of me. I am not sure who is more shocked, me or her. But for once, it feels good to laugh. God, this woman is amazing. I cannot wait until she is mine.