Chapter 10
Emily
I’m still sore when we’re eating breakfast together. I swear I can still feel Roman’s cock inside me. My body is marked with his bruises.
Every twinge of pain makes me grin with the knowledge that I finally got what I wanted.
“Baby…”
I smile at him, licking my lips provocatively. “Yes, cowboy?”
“You know I love that wedding outfit, but we’re eating breakfast.”
I glance down and shrug. The corset is gorgeous, with its white chiffon skirting cut right up in front.
A little disheveled right now, but still perfect.
“You think I’m just going to wear this for one day?
I want everyone to know I’m married to you, Roman Marshall.
I might wear this every day for the rest of my life. ”
He chuckles. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy in love, sure.”
I dip a corner of toast into my egg yolk, and lift it to my mouth, the yellow liquid threatening to drip down inside my corset the whole way from the table to my mouth. It doesn’t though. I bite off the corner, then find Roman watching me with a pained look on his face.“What?”
“I can’t believe I’m jealous of a slice of toast and egg.”
The laugh shakes my whole chest as I realize what he means, and I bob my eyebrows. “I had to wait so long, Saint Roman, I’m sure you can give me a half hour while I eat breakfast before you fill me up again.”
Roman grunts. “Never should have listened to your fucking dad.”
“What’s that?”
He waves it off. “It’s nothing.”
“No, it’s not. Tell me. What does my dad have to do with the morning after my wedding night?”
Roman shakes his head. “It’s not really on him. Just a few things he said that made me take notice.”
“You wouldn’t knock me up before we were married because of my dad?”
Roman shrugs. “No. Because of me. I needed to know that I was right for you. That I could give you the life you deserve.
You can do whatever you put your mind to. You’re smart, Emily, and talented. You want to race, I’ll fucking sponsor you myself.”
I smirk. “You do realize I’m a millionaire, right? I don’t exactly need someone to take care of me.”
“Not financially, maybe. But I wouldn’t live off Allister’s money, and I sure as shit won’t live off yours. I’m going to take care of you in every way, and that starts now.”
He’s up from the table in an instant, and the look on his face leaves no doubt.
“I want to finish my sausage,” I complain.
“Yeah, and you’re going to, baby girl.”
Despite Roman’s best possible distractions, my stomach is still crying out for more sausage and bacon, and apparently the hotel stops serving breakfast at eleven am.
I tried telling them that it wasn’t my fault, that my husband didn’t give me chance to finish before it went cold, but I was told it was a rule, and that there’s a place just down the street that serves breakfast until midafternoon.
My husband.
The words don’t seem real, even now. Nor does the smile that’s plastered to my face as I cross the street, heading for Mindy’s Diner.
I’m pretty sure my overprotective new husband wouldn’t be too pleased that I’m out here alone, especially dressed in my wedding dress which I realize, at some point I have to stop wearing but I’m not ready.
Roman fucked me until he passed out, and I was hungry.
I hear the wolf whistle before I feel the fingers on my arm.
“Hey, cutie, out here all alone? Sun’s shinin’, birds are singin’. Girl like you shouldn’t be lonely on a day like this.”
I shrug away from his clammy fingers as I turn. “Thanks, but I’m married.”
“Clearly.” He snorts and I flash the ring that they can probably see from the International Space Station, and barely register the guy before I turn back to my errand.
He must be in his fifties. Tall, kind of handsome, I guess.
Probably used to catch the eye of all the ladies before the drink started turning his face a permanent, ugly shade of lobster red.
I can smell it on him from here, and all I want is to get away…
“Hey, no need to be too quick to rush off, sweetheart. I’ve got a suite and a bottle of champagne with your name all over it. Hubby doesn’t have to know anything about it. Hey, slow down?—”
I feel his fingers on my upper arm again, and before I can shrug away he’s already digging them into my flesh, trying to pull me back toward him.
And I see red.
I’m not violent, but I’m not a fucking china doll either.
With a scream, I slash my nails across his face, and now he does let go. As he doubles over, clutching a hand to his eyes and calling me a little bitch, I bring my knee up into his groin as hard as I can, and feel the crunch of balls being squished.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” I scream at him, and go in for another kick when I feel a hand on my arm, and turn, furious, ready to do the same to whoever this is.
And find myself facing Roman.
In an instant, the adrenaline drains from my body, and I collapse into his arms. They wrap around me and pull me close, and I feel his lips on the top of my head as the words all tumble out at once.
“I was just… I wanted more food… And they didn’t serve breakfast, but they told me… And I was crossing the street, and then… He touched me… I didn’t want him to touch me…”
“Shhh, baby, it’s okay. Daddy’s here.” Roman’s hand strokes my hair down my back. “I’m just going to put you on the sidewalk, and then me and this fucker are going to have a few words.”
I’m shaking my head as he leads me to the other side of the street. I vaguely realize that the traffic has stopped both ways, and people are out of their cars with their phones up, filming what is going on.
“No, don’t… Roman, he only touched me… Please, I don’t want you to?—”
“I said I’m going to have words with him, and I mean it,” he says, taking either side of my face in his hands.
“That’s something I’ve been working on. You already did the violent stuff anyway, and I’m so proud of you for it.
Although we are going to have words about you sneaking off without telling me.
But he needs to know what will happen if he ever touches you again, baby. ”
“Just words,” I say, meeting his eyes, needing him to confirm it.
He nods. “Just words.”
And with that, he turns away, and heads for the man who’s still doubled over, clutching his hands to his groin as blood drips from the wound on his face.
“Hey,” Roman says as he approaches. “You mind telling me why you thought you could touch my wife?”
The guy stands, and I can see that his eye is okay. I must have missed it with my nails and caught the temple instead.
But the two of them stand staring at each other, and I see recognition on both faces.
What is going on?
“Motherfucker,” Roman mutters, breaking the silence. “You touched my wife, you fucking piece of shit. I hope you’re ready to live the rest of your life with a limp and an eye patch.”
The man stumbles back, but his features twist as he retreats.
“And all the fucking pieces fall together. Casey Marshall and I signed a contract yesterday, and here’s Roman Marshall in the same fucking city.
No fucking coincidence, right? Guessing he’s your brother?
Colt said something about you being adopted, but it’s unfortunate for him that he got lumbered with you.
That your sister with him? She’s got a fine ass, to be sure. ”
Roman growls, and I can see the tension in his stance. But the other man must be either blind or stupid, because he doesn’t seem to cotton on to the danger he’s in right now.
“So you’re involved with that rodeo app, huh? Shame, I kind of liked it.” He chuckles. “I have to say, I’m so sorry about what happened at the finals. You know how much it cost me to have Colt’s teeth fixed after you were done with him?”
“You two know each other?” I’m walking back into the road, getting up next to Roman. “Who is he?”
But it’s the other guy that answers. “Name’s Buck Ryder, sweetheart.
The Buck Ryder. Same Buck Ryder that ruined your little boyfriend’s rodeo career and is going to make sure this little BuckTrack app doesn’t see a shiny penny.
And if you ever want to know what a real man can do for that sweet little cunt of yours, you just give me a?—”
That’s as far as he gets before Roman’s punch lands.
Buck flies back, sprawling against the hood of a BMW that’s stopped to watch the commotion. He barely gets back on his feet before Roman is right there on him again.
“Motherfucker.!” Roman growls, landing punch after punch.
I don’t know how long it is before I hear the sirens, but by the time the police are pulling my new husband off the man that touched me, I’m sitting in a puddle of my own tears, wondering how everything became such a mess so quickly.