41. Isabel
Icouldn’t just excuse myself and graciously leave the library. No, because that would have been too simple, and further complicating an already tangled web of bullshit and deceit was certainly the glorious goal to strive for here.
It wasn’t as if my heart hadn’t already been fed through the meat grinder. Now I’d given Roman a chance to relish his power over me. The fucking arrogance of the man, unashamedly homing in on my weaknesses.
Somewhere between the library and Henry’s room, I slipped down another hallway and through a door that led to one of the million bedrooms in this ridiculous place. Of course the bedroom had an ensuite bathroom, and I was in there desperately washing away my shame.
I was also crying, or maybe wailing was a better way to describe my state.
My body was still trembling from that orgasm that erupted from the deepest part of me and flared into this delicious blend of rapture and pain. I wanted to cling to this exquisite feeling, knowing I’d never feel it again.
My weeping resumed. What had I done? My weakness for Roman was outrageous. His ability to light every inch of my skin on fire without so much as a touch, was absurd. And let’s not forget what his touch did.
Less than a minute after he entered the library the only thought occupying my mind was having him inside of me. Not telling him to go to hell, or walking out of there with my dignity intact, but to have him fuck me one last time.
I should have told him how much I hated him and ended it right then and there. But if there was one thing I could never do it was hate Roman Belmont. And something told me he knew that.
When Roman slipped his fingers between my thighs where a pool of heat eagerly awaited his stroke, I could see his pupils dilate. Which was confusing, to say the least, because that would only happen when the love hormones oxytocin and dopamine made a grand tour of his brain.
If I was just another notch on his bedpost, why would he react to me like that? Why would he still pretend his entire world revolved around me and me alone. There was no mistaking the insane attraction between us, but if this was the final curtain call, shouldn’t he have been gloating a little more?
Instead his eyes were two blue pools of despair, and he looked haggard. Well, as haggard as a beautiful man like Roman could look. The problem was that he made haggard look sexy, and that didn’t help the tumultuous hot mess brewing between us in the library.
I had to keep reminding myself that this was a man who had no qualms about leading me down a path sprinkled with lies, lies and more lies.
When I faced myself in the mirror, it wasn’t joy or satisfaction staring back. It was pain and torment. I wanted to text Meg and confess to my screwup and get some assurance that all my noodles hadn’t slipped off the plate.
But how did I even start to describe my inability to resist Roman? Even after everything. And for all the remorse I had now, there was no telling how future encounters with Roman might play out if I stayed on at Belmont Manor.
Who knew how cruel he’d become, taking pleasure in torturing me because he knew what a weakling I was in his presence, and for his touch.
It had become very important that I talk to Emily. If she was unaware of Roman’s antics, it would probably come as a shock. But if I was to stay on here and help with Henry, some very clear boundaries had to be set.
All interaction with Roman would have to come to a dead stop. That included visits to the library, which would break my heart. It was the one place I really loved in this house. Well, that and the kitchen. And of course also Roman’s apartment. Come to think of it there was a lot about this house that I’d fallen in love with, and it was far from the menacing fortress I’d initially thought it to be.
When I was all out of cry I blew my nose, washed my face with ice-cold water, and fixed the loose strands of hair that escaped my messy bun during the sexfest in the library. There was no doubt Henry was sensitive to his surroundings and the last thing he needed was me lounging around right beside him with my broken heart on my sleeve.
I took a deep breath and walked back to Henry’s room with as much grace as I could muster with the residue of that soul-robbing orgasm still tingling in my fingers and toes. It had to be close to two o’clock, and knowing Emily the first thing she’d want to do when she got back was see Henry.
I made a dash for my reading chair and sat down, catching my breath. I wanted to be calm and collected when Emily arrived, and not the blubbering mess of a woman who just had stupid breathtaking and very angry sex with her son who, lest we forget, also happened to be her boss.
“I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you,” a familiar voice cautioned. My heart jumped into my throat and I spun in my seat.
Steven stood on the far side of the room, wistfully staring out the window, as if enjoying the rain on this lovely afternoon. Despite my best efforts, my voice came out hoarse and shaky. “Oh God, what are you doing here?”
He tapped the window as if to conclude his appreciation of the rain and move on to other business. “That’s a little rich coming from you, wouldn’t you say Miss Le Roche? What did I tell you about trying to pursue Roman?”
From somewhere deep inside me a kernel of courage burst forth. “I’m not here to pursue anyone. My job is to read to Henry and keep him company. That’s what I get paid to do. Besides, I don’t think I need to answer to you.”
He strolled across the room, staring at me down his nose. “That is where you’re wrong, very wrong. Any and all security regarding Henry and Roman is my concern, and I don’t take that lightly.”
“And suddenly I’m this big security risk?” I hissed. “Do you just need to make shit up? Are you guys bored, or what?”
“Well I can see you haven’t forfeited that delightful attitude of yours for better sense.”
A thousand rambling thoughts flashed through my mind until one struck me and took root. Roman didn’t like me telling him it was over, because he was the one who decided if and when he’d had enough of someone. So he’d sent this guy to take care of the situation.
Vicious bone-chilling fear raked through my veins. I was powerless against these people. And one of them was holding my heart in his hands and squeezing the life from my soul. “Tell me Roman didn’t send you,” I said, already aware that this was probably exactly what happened.
Steven’s eyes narrowed, a predator assessing his victim’s weakness. And there were no second guesses as to what mine was, or rather who. For the briefest moment, his gaze softened before the usual indifference cloaked his features. “I’m curious, Miss Le Roche, how exactly you thought this was going to end?”
His tone had taken a dangerous edge, and I could feel his anger brimming under that cool exterior. He didn’t expect an answer to his question, that was clear. This was just a preamble to throwing me out of the house.
The wonderful, charming Roman who swept me off my feet while he was sitting on a throne of lies, had now sent this man to get rid of what had become the insubordinate help. The brazenness of it all left me with a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. How did I even fight this? At a guess, I simply couldn’t.
The rain was coming down harder now, a torrent of wet soaking the world and lashing at the windows. Steven surveyed the room with seeming disinterest. “So, if we could do this with as little hassle as possible,” he said, “I’d like you to pack up your things. There’s a man outside the door who will escort you downstairs and take you home.”
It took me a minute to remember that breathing wasn’t optional and I needed air to survive. I turned to Henry and took his hand, shell-shocked. So after all that happened, I wasn’t going to be here to see him get better after all. And that literally tore my heart out.
“Step away from him, please,” Steven barked. “Let me repeat, pack your things. As of right now, you are trespassing on this estate. And around here we have a very specific way of dealing with trespassers, which I can assure you is not pleasant.”
I gave Henry one last glance, grabbed my black bag, and went for the door, feeling like I was leaving Henry at the mercy of a pack of starving wolves.
“Oh wait, one second, please,” Steven called out. When I swung around he was holding out Francis the bear. “Does this thing belong to you?”
Thing?Did this monster just call Francis a thing?
I quietly recited the serenity prayer to myself. Lord, grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know if I kill this man I’ll be thrown in jail, doing hard time for life.
Steven didn’t wait for me to go to him and instead strolled across the room and held out Francis. “Unless you just want me to get rid of it,” he added for good measure.
He shouldn’t have called me back, threatening to trash my childhood bear. The one my mom gave me when I was three, telling me it would always watch over me. The one I’d put next to Henry for comfort while he was fighting for his life.
Suddenly I reached the end of my rope, holding onto the barest of threads and dangling freely with nothing left to lose. I took Francis from the bastard and looked him straight in his eyes. “You know what, Steven, I would really love to meet the bitch that broke you. Good grief, she was merciless.”
And before he could blink the insult away, I saw a shadow of uneasiness in his eyes. His recovery was remarkable though and he straightened imperceptibly, that permanent smirk on his face now stained with hostility.
“Goodbye, Miss Le Roche. And best of luck with your future, dim as it appears to be.”
I returned his loathsome stare with my chin up and a straight back, the stance I’d taken many times in the wings before dancing onto the stage. There was no way I showed this man an iota of the fear searing my insides. Or the horror and grief flooding my veins.
“It’s almost as if your only aim in life is to make everyone else as miserable as you are, Steven. Goodbye, and I’d wish you a shitty life but it seems I don’t have to. You’re already living it every day, in technicolor.”
With that I made the long walk to the front door, some security troll hot on my heels. I was angry and heartbroken and miserable, but I refused to let one tear fall until I was away from these people, who would probably take immense pleasure in seeing me cry.
And dear God if I didn’t feel like running back and yelling at Henry to wake the hell up. He was the only one in the place who was going to suffer.
The rain had calmed to a faint drizzle, as if commiserating with my dire situation. Before I stepped into the Navigator, I looked up at the south wing, somehow expecting to see Roman one last time. But there was no one at the window. Of course not. Why would there be?
The horror of the whole ordeal really began to sink in, and every breath I took felt like tiny slivers of glass being released into my chest.
I was barely seated in the back of the Navigator when the divider went up between me and the Terminator. As we left through the black gate, my last glimpse of Belmont Manor was of a giant mausoleum shrouded in a fog of rain.
For a brief moment I considered texting Emily, but what was I going to say? That Roman, heir to the Belmont empire, misled me with an Oscar-worthy performance, shattered my heart and despite all that left me with a body that would always crave his touch and his alone?
And whose side did I think Emily was going to take, exactly? It definitely wouldn’t be mine. I kept waiting for all the resentment I was supposed to feel, and for the moment I’d become incensed at being swindled, but it never came.
None of it felt real. Nothing about Roman in the library felt fake or insincere. I figured I was at the first stage of grief: denial. Hopefully the next stage would set in sometime soon. Anger. I could honestly not wait for anger to enter the equation.
Reality was going to hit me at some point, and I didn’t really want to be here when it did.