Chapter 4 I Will Marry Him
His tall frame seemed even more imposing against the snowy evening, his shadow stretching across the ground.
An oversized coat hung from his broad shoulders, and beneath it, he wore a perfectly tailored suit.
He had clearly changed since the previous night.
His dark hair was neatly swept back, every strand perfectly in place, making him look completely different from the man she'd left behind that morning.
Rose, meanwhile, was still standing there in the same clothes she'd worn to the party.
The contrast was almost humiliating.
She stared at him in shock, her mouth falling open for a moment before she finally found her voice.
“What are you doing here?”
Her gaze darted toward the house, then back to him.
“It was just one night. It's already over. I already left.”
She spoke faster when he didn't answer.
“What do you want? Money?”
The edge of panic creeping into her voice betrayed her bravado. Maverick had always had a way of making her nervous, but seeing him standing in front of her again—here, of all places—sent an entirely different kind of shiver through her.
He simply looked at her.
His gaze dropped to her arms, which she had wrapped tightly around herself in an attempt to keep warm.
Something in his expression changed.
Without saying a word, Maverick reached up and removed the coat from his shoulders.
Before Rose could react, he draped it around her.
The heavy coat enveloped her completely, falling almost to the ground around her and trapping the warmth of his body against her. Rose instinctively pulled it closer around herself.
She looked up at him, startled.
Maverick still said nothing.
Instead, he bent down and lifted her effortlessly into his arms.
Rose's eyes widened.
“What are you doing?”
“Do you want to freeze to death?” he asked, his voice low and stern. “What are you doing standing out here dressed like this?”
Rose immediately began to panic.
“I'm not naked!”
She looked up at him, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and irritation.
“What are you doing here? I told you it was a one-time mistake, Mr. Bishop. You can't force me to pay you back for taking your innocence.”
Her voice hardened as she tried to sound intimidating.
“My dad is a big name in the perfume industry. If you threaten, or punish me, he won't let you get away with it.”
Maverick’s gaze never left Rose’s face. Even as she continued trembling beneath the weight of his stare, he remained completely still, listening until she finally finished speaking.
Then one of his perfectly arched eyebrows lifted.
“Punish you?” he asked, his voice dropping lower. “You seem to have misunderstood me, Rose. What happened last night was me showing you mercy.”
His gaze slowly swept over her before returning to her eyes.
“If you think that was punishment, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”
Rose’s breath caught.
“I haven’t even started making you pay for what you did,” he added, the faintest smirk touching his lips. “And when I do, I doubt you’ll be calling it a mistake anymore.”
Heat rushed into her face.
“Pervert,” she muttered, glaring at him.
Maverick’s eyes warmed with amusement as he looked down at her.
“If you don’t want to spend the entire night sitting out here in the snow, then let me do the talking with your father. And when we go inside, you don’t say a word. Got it?”
Rose swallowed.
The authority in his voice made her feel strangely intimidated.
Then the meaning of his words finally registered.
“You’re going inside?”
Rose’s body stiffened.
“What do you want? Why are you going inside our house?”
Maverick looked down at her, completely unfazed by her suspicion.
“What do you think I want, Rose?”
She bit her lip, her eyes darting away.
A tremor ran through her as memories of the previous night came rushing back—the warmth of his body, his hands on her, the way he had made her forget everything around her.
“You’re still thinking about last night,” she murmured.
One of Maverick’s eyebrows lifted.
“Am I?”
His gaze lingered on her flushed face.
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
Rose’s cheeks burned.
“I just meant—”
“I know exactly what you meant.”
His voice dropped, the faintest hint of amusement entering it.
“And judging by that face, I think you remember a lot more than you’re willing to admit.”
Rose glared at him, mortified.
“It was from both sides. It wasn’t just one-sided. It’s not like I forced you into bed. You were equally participating.”
Maverick raised both eyebrows.
“Both sides? Really?”
His gaze remained fixed on her.
“Do you remember the night at all, or do I need to remind you again and re-create it right now?”
He looked down at her entire body as he said it, and Rose felt another shiver move through her.
Her memories surfaced all at once.
She remembered kissing him. She remembered moving against him, taking control, and running her hands over him.
She remembered straddling him, refusing to let him move as she held his wrists against the bed and told him not to move as she rode his shaft.
She had taken complete control of the moment, barely giving him a chance to react, as though she were a starving woman who had never experienced a man's touch before.
And, in a way, it had been true.
She had never experienced anything like that before.
And the man in front of her was the very man she had been having dark dreams about for several years.
That was why it hadn't been easy for her to keep her emotions under control when everything had suddenly become so intense. The line between her dreams and reality had blurred completely, made even hazier by the alcohol that had clouded her judgment.
Now, as she looked at him, Rose could barely breathe.
Heat rushed through her all over again, and her thoughts immediately drifted toward the image of his bare torso, his defined abs, and the body she had seen the night before.
Every nerve in her body seemed to come alive at the memory.
She had never felt such a powerful desire for anyone else in her life. Even when Maverick was fully dressed, he could make her feel things she had never experienced before.
Every memory of the previous night was still painfully vivid. The pleasure he had given her had been so intense that she knew she would never be able to forget it, no matter how hard she tried.
Her knees nearly weakened as the memories rushed through her again. Her legs trembled slightly, betraying the effect he still had on her.
Rose didn't say a word. She simply stared at him.
‘He's so hot.’ The thought came unbidden. ‘If my first time had to be with someone, there could never have been a better man than Maverick Bishop.’
Her gaze traveled from his face to his mouth. A hungry look crept into her eyes as she stared at his lips, her own parting slightly. Her throat felt dry, and for one reckless moment, she found herself leaning toward him, almost ready to kiss him again.
Maverick noticed.
His eyes dropped to her lips, lingering there for a long, heated second before slowly lifting back to her eyes. Something dark and hungry flickered across his face.
“You keep looking at my mouth like that,” he murmured, his voice roughening, “and you’re going to make it very difficult for me to behave.”
Rose’s breath caught.
He leaned closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin, his gaze never leaving hers.
“You want to kiss me again?”
The question was barely a whisper.
Rose’s entire face flushed.
Maverick’s mouth curved into a slow, knowing smile as he watched her reaction.
“Thought so.”
He let the words hang between them for a moment before straightening.
“But you’re freezing.” His gaze swept over her flushed face. “Come inside before I give you another reason to forget how cold it is.”
Rose’s heart hammered.
He had seen straight through her.
She glared at him, embarrassed, but Maverick didn't release her. Instead, he adjusted his hold around her and turned toward the house.
Carrying her securely in his arms, he walked through the snow and back toward the house. A moment later, he stepped inside.
Warmth immediately surrounded them.
Inside the house, Oswald Monroe had been standing in the center of the hall, his phone in his hand. His brows were drawn together, and his expression had grown increasingly impatient as he repeatedly glanced toward the entrance.
Rose had been outside long enough.
The longer she remained in the cold, the more his irritation—and concern—had begun to grow.
Just then, Troy hurried toward him.
“Mr. Monroe,” the man said, stopping in front of him. “I looked into what happened last night.”
Oswald straightened, his back snapping upright as he looked at Troy, a deep frown settling across his face.
“What happened? Did Ivan and Rose get into an argument?”
His thoughts were already racing. Rose was not someone who would betray someone recklessly.
Troy's expression grew serious.
“Mr. Monroe, there was an incident yesterday. Ivan slapped Miss Rose because she broke something in his house.”
The words had barely left Troy's mouth before Oswald's anger flared.
The man had never raised his hand against Rose. Ever since her mother had died years ago, Oswald had done everything in his power to protect their girl, and the thought of someone putting their hands on her sent his temper surging.
His frown deepened as he stared at Troy, his expression suddenly becoming frighteningly calm—the kind of calm that hid a storm underneath.
“Say that again.” His voice was low and dangerously controlled. “What did you say he did?”
“He slapped Ms. Rose, sir,” Troy repeated.
Oswald stared at him as though he still couldn't believe what he had heard.
“He hit her?”
Troy nodded.
“Yes. That's what I heard. He slapped her because she broke something in his house.”
Oswald's anger rose to the point where it was almost visible.
“Find out what she broke,” he ordered. “Whatever it was, send a dozen of it to his house. I don't want us to owe him anything.”
Troy immediately nodded.