Chapter 7
JULIET
“This entire estate is one of the Flynn properties,” Romeo said, his voice calm and commanding, laced with the quiet arrogance of a man who had just erased an entire family from existence.
“By virtue of wiping them off the face of the earth, it now belongs to me. As my wife, you may consider yourself the lady of the house. You are free to walk the grounds and manage the tenants of the other properties on the estate as you see fit.”
He paused, his gaze hardening.
“However, you are not permitted to leave the estate without my express permission.”
My chest dropped.
“Am I to understand that this estate is my prison?”
The question fell from my lips before I could catch it, my tone steady despite the fear rising in my chest
I glanced instinctively toward the windows.
The grounds outside looked peaceful, almost deceptively ordinary, but I was now confined within its boundaries like a slave.
I was his wife, damn it — at least on paper.
“Rule number two,” he continued, completely dismissing my protest as if it were beneath his notice.
“Do not expect me to come home every night to babysit you. As you can see, my empire is in a fragile state. It requires my full attention — alliances to forge, enemies to crush, and trust to rebuild.”
His cold eyes swept briefly across the bungalow.
“You will be left to yourself here most of the time. But no matter how bored or lonely you become, you are forbidden from having any visitors. Especially men. Even the women will be subject to my scrutiny.”
A heavy silence settled over the room as his words sank in.
My stomach twisted with a mix of humiliation and rising anger.
He wasn’t just controlling me — he was isolating me completely, treating me like a dangerous prisoner rather than his wife.
“These rules are absurd,” I shot back, my voice steady even as fear coiled tighter in my stomach.
“The first and second combined make it obvious I’m being held captive. I don’t understand why you believe marrying me gives you the right to sever me from the outside world entirely.”
His eyes settled on me with a quiet, dangerous warning that sent my pulse racing, yet he offered no response to my protest — dismissing it as irrelevant.
“All you need will be handled by Keegan,” he stated, tone laced with disdain. “This marriage will stay exactly what it is — a business contract between two strangers. Do not mistake it for anything more.”
His tone was completely detached.
He turned toward the door without another glance.
Then, almost as an afterthought, he said with complete indifference, “I’ll be taking my leave.”
His leave?
In the middle of the night?
He wasn’t even going to spend our wedding night under the same roof?
After laying down those two suffocating, absurd rules he expected me to follow without question?
“You can’t just leave,” I said, my voice sharper than I’d intended.
He was already halfway to the door.
At my words, he paused and turned his head just enough to look at me over his shoulder.
His eyes were glacial, brimming with unmistakable disdain.
“Oh, yes, I can,” he said, each word calm and merciless. “And I will.”
Without waiting for a response, he opened the door and walked out.
The soft click of the door closing echoed through the room like the final lock on a prison cell.
Panic surged through me before I could think.
“No...”
The word escaped as little more than a broken plea.
I hurried after him.
“Romeo.”
He didn’t stop.
By the time I reached the doorway, he was already outside, striding across the driveway toward the sleek black car waiting beneath the glow of the estate lights.
His broad shoulders remained rigid, his long, purposeful strides never faltering.
The cool night air rushed over my skin, carrying with it the distant roar of waves crashing somewhere beyond the estate walls.
“Romeo... wait.”
Nothing.
Not even the slightest hesitation.
My heartbeat pounded painfully against my ribs as I stumbled after him.
“Please... just listen to me.”
This time, he stopped.
Slowly.
Without speaking, he turned his head just enough for me to know I had his attention.
His face was impossible to read.
Not anger. Not hatred. Not impatience.
Nothing.
His eyes were as cold and still as frozen glass.
“I understand why you hate me,” I whispered, struggling to steady my trembling voice. “And... I’m not asking you to stop.”
My throat tightened.
“But... there’s something you deserve to know.”
Silence.
He neither encouraged me nor dismissed me.
He simply waited.
“We’re not strangers.”
I swallowed hard.
“I’ve known you since we were teenagers. Not just because you were my sister’s best friend... but because...” My voice cracked. “...because I was the one who saved your life.”
His expression never changed.
“The day your brother pushed you into the lake...”
My chest rose unevenly.
“Everyone believes Yarina jumped in after you... but she didn’t.”
My eyes burned.
“It was me.”
The words left my mouth in a rush.
“I couldn’t even swim properly... but I still jumped into that lake because you were drowning.”
A shaky breath escaped me.
“I was terrified. I nearly drowned with you. My stomach struck one of the rocks beneath the water while I was trying to pull you out.”
Instinctively, my hand drifted to my abdomen.
“I still carry the scar. My stomach has never been the same.”
He remained perfectly still.
Not a flicker. Not a blink. Not a single crack in that merciless composure.
Tears blurred my vision.
“I never told anyone because... because no one would have believed me anyway.”
A hollow laugh escaped my lips, sounding far more like a sob than amusement.
“When you woke up, Yarina was the first person you saw.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“She stood beside your hospital bed... and she let you believe she was the one who had saved you.”
“She let everyone believe it.”
I lowered my gaze.
Another painful silence settled between us.
“And when you were shot three days ago... I was the one who drove you to that warehouse.”
My voice quivered.
“You were bleeding so heavily...”
I could still see the blood soaking through his clothes.
“I did everything I could to stop the bleeding.”
My fingers curled into trembling fists at the memory.
“If I hadn’t...”
The words lodged painfully in my throat.
“You would’ve died before your men arrived.”
The confession lingered between us, heavy and inescapable.
“I know none of this will make you hate me any less.”
I lowered my head and gave a faint, defeated shake of it.
“I’m not asking for your affection.” Another tear slipped silently down my cheek.“I just wanted you to know the truth.”
I forced myself to meet those unreadable eyes.
“Because it hurts.”
“It hurts when the man you’ve pulled back from death... twice... speaks of your own death as though it means nothing.”
Romeo shifted his weight almost imperceptibly.
His jaw flexed once. Then became still again.
His face remained carved from stone.
If my words had reached him...
If they had shaken anything inside him...
He gave no indication whatsoever.
For several endless seconds, he simply looked at me.
His throat moved in a slow swallow.
For the first time since I’d met him again, something flickered behind those icy blue eyes.
Surprise. Confusion.
Perhaps even doubt.
But it vanished so quickly I couldn’t be sure I’d seen it at all.
Finally, he spoke.
“You speak with conviction.” His gaze never left mine. “Conviction, however, is not proof.”
The hope inside me crumbled.
Before I could answer, his phone vibrated sharply.
The ringtone shattered the silence.
He glanced at the screen before sliding the phone back into his pocket.
“My men are waiting.”
His gaze settled on me for the briefest moment.
“This is your life now. Adjust.”
With that, he turned away.
Without another glance in my direction, he reached for the driver’s door, pulled it open, and slid inside.
No.
My heart lurched violently.
He couldn’t leave.
Not like this.
Not after everything I’d finally confessed.
Not after I’d ripped open wounds I’d spent years desperately trying to bury.
He couldn’t walk away as though none of it had ever mattered.
Before he could pull away, I rushed to the other side of the car, yanked the passenger door open, and slid into the seat.
The moment the door slammed shut, he turned to me.
Disbelief flickered across his face.
His brows drew together ever so slightly.
“What are you doing?”
I met his icy stare, refusing to look away despite the fear knotting my stomach.
“You’re not leaving me in that house alone, Romeo.”
My fingers tightened around the edge of the seat.
“I refuse to be treated like a prisoner.”
A muscle worked in his jaw.
His patience was beginning to wear thin.
“I’m meeting the Chicago outfit to finalize an arms deal,” he said, shifting the car into gear but not moving yet.
His gaze remained hard.
“It could get bloody. You think I’m treating you like a prisoner? My empire is hanging by a thread right now. Too many of the Flynn remnants are searching for a soft target to use against me. As my wife — contract or not — you are that target. Go back inside. Now.”
A bitter laugh escaped me.
“You actually expect me to believe you’re worried about my safety?”
Romeo’s expression remained stone-cold.
“If you died,” he replied without emotion, “I’d lose access to my inheritance.”
His gaze remained fixed ahead.
“So don’t mistake practicality for concern.”
The words hit harder than I’d expected.
He looked at me again.
“Get out before I remove you myself.”
The tears I’d fought all night finally won. They slipped silently down my cheeks.
“No.”
The word barely came out.
I shook my head. “No...”
The thought of returning to that silent bungalow—to those empty rooms that already felt like a mausoleum—made my chest tighten until I could barely breathe.
I looked straight at him.
“If you want me out...”
My voice broke.
“...then drag me out yourself.”
I folded my hands tightly in my lap, refusing to move.
His grip tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
For several long seconds, neither of us spoke.