Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Francesca Rose
At no point in my life did I question having any control of my future.
Over the past six months I could’ve wasted time daydreaming about the life I wanted to lead.
Instead, I’ve taken my mother's advice. Find happiness where I can get it. After Ashton and I set our expectations of each other, I woke each morning with the mindset of finding happiness in my new life as a criminal’s wife.
Most days I lounge in bed sleeping past noon.
Once I’m up for the day, it’s a quick workout, followed by a swim in the pool.
I usually leave the compound twice a week to prevent cabin fever, but it makes me anxious.
Now that I’m a Rose, security measures have to be taken any time I leave the property.
Walking around with all that security makes me imagine I’ll get shot in the head while grocery shopping.
My biggest problem with this life, other than my husband, is that there is no purpose to this existence.
That lack of purpose has been overshadowed, more and more, by the handfuls of happiness I’ve been able to hold onto.
The fully-stocked library has provided me with a daily dose of disassociation.
Most of my time is spent getting lost in other worlds to prevent acknowledging the misery of my own.
I was elated when Kathy mentioned she was responsible for ordering the books that live on those shelves.
She and I became fast friends after my first day here.
So, ordering the bodice-rippers that I love to consume in one sitting became top priority.
The other piece of joy that I’ve been grabbing handfuls of is the 6-foot bodyguard that currently has me pinned to the library door with his tongue down my throat.
Michael Ellis. Head of my security team and the biggest tease walking the Earth as far as I’m concerned.
During my time here we’ve forged a genuine connection, and the chemistry I felt during our first days together only intensified.
It didn’t take long for us to fall into the intoxicating feeling of sneaking around behind Ashton’s back.
He breaks our kiss, trailing them down my neck. “You need to be present for dinner soon.”
“There’s definitely something I’d like to swallow, and it isn’t food,” I respond while running my hand down the front of his pants.
He gathers my wrist, pinning my hands above my head. “Behave, Princess.”
“Such a tease,” I taunt, pressing my body into his.
It’s been three months of edging and teasing each other, but nothing has progressed. I think we both know once we cross that line, things become much more dangerous than either of us are prepared for. Especially since I’m not pregnant yet.
When Ashton said my sole purpose was to produce an heir, he meant it.
The sexual interactions between us are clinical and underwhelming.
Most days I stay out of his way until I’m summoned to his office.
It’s a special kind of torture, that Michael is the one who Ashton usually sends to retrieve me.
We both choose not to speak about the moments I’m in that office because we know why I’m here in the first place.
Michael fixes my dress and the lipstick that I’m sure is smeared across my swollen lips.
“Be a good girl and go enjoy dinner with your husband,” he says, watching me pat my hair back into place.
“Gross.” I push at his chest. “Don’t call him that. ‘Warden’ is more appropriate.”
He chuckles, one of my new favorite sounds. Another item to add to the list of happinesses I’ve found in this new existence.
“Listen, I won’t be at the dinner table tonight, so don’t piss him off. Things went bad with one of the crews today and I don’t need him taking it out on you.” His voice is stern, but I read the worry in his frown.
Early in my time here, another guard came to get me for my “scheduled meeting” with Ashton, but he didn’t bother to tell me Ashton was in a nasty mood.
Michael always tries to warn me about the version of my husband I’m getting.
So I walked into that interaction blind, with my usual level of snark, and met the backside of Ashton’s hand.
My face was bruised for a little over a week.
“Yessir,” I comply with a salute before turning to open the door, earning a smack to my ass.
Michael walks me to the dining area, where Kathy and the kitchen staff are setting food.
He gives me one final look of warning before going to handle his business.
The smell of the pot roast that’s been simmering all day lures me into false comfort.
One should never let their guard completely down when their murderous husband is expected at any moment.
“Good evening,” I say, addressing the room.
The staff responds in kind, but Kathy eyes me with a knowing smile.
I don’t pay it any mind as I take my regular seat and wait for Ashton before filling my plate.
She’s noticed a little of the flirting between Michael and I, but any time she questions it I play it off as we’ve just become good friends. Which is true.
“Where’ve you been all evening?” she asks, starting the interrogation.
I don’t get the chance to answer because the devil himself walks through the dining room, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and covered in blood.
I hate when he shows up to dinner like this.
Evander demands we share these meals together, but he hardly ever joins.
Ashton could cancel the formal dinners, but I’m positive he doesn’t because it’s a flex of his power.
He gets off on demanding my presence at his dinner table, but shows up and hardly says a word to me.
“Kathy,” Ashton addresses her with a nod.
She is the only person in this house his pleasantries are extended to.
It was within my first week that I questioned why Kathy was the only person that Ashton treated like a human and not as property.
Imagine my surprise when she tells me she practically raised Ashton.
At least until he was old enough that Evander put him through training and stamped out any softness that she had tried to foster within him.
Evidently Ashton was a strange child with an ill temper until he was taught to channel that rage.
The use of violent torture as a coping mechanism made it extremely clear the type of family I’ve married into.
Kathy heads to the door, but not before giving me a look telling me to behave myself. A warning I don’t need when my husband is standing before me covered in blood.
We eat our dinner in our regularly scheduled aggravated silence.
There’s never a time when we’re alone that I start a conversation with him unless it’s necessary.
Instead, I allow my thoughts to wander. I should probably call my mom.
It’s been a couple of weeks since we’ve spoken, and I know she tends to get antsy when she doesn’t hear from me.
Apparently, my father has been taking more trips and working later, leaving my mother to her peace.
I still worry about her safety, especially now, since I’m no longer there.
My mom has never caused my father issues, so it’s harmless for him to keep her around.
The drop of Ashton’s cutlery onto his plate makes me jump in my seat. His eyes are on me as he stands, taking up space beside my chair. I can smell the blood on his clothes, and it makes me want to gag.
“Did you take the pregnancy test?” he asks, staring at me through narrowed eyes.
He is looking for a fight, but I’m not taking the bait.
“It was negative.” I answer concisely, not wasting time delivering his bad news. Even though I can read his shit mood, I never know if he wants to cause harm.
Technically it’s my bad news, too. A negative pregnancy test means more passionless sex with the man I would rather not touch ever again.
“We’ll give it another month before involving medical professionals to figure out what’s wrong with you,” he sneers.
His response comes out cold and calculated, wanting to hurt me. He turns to leave the table intending to have the last word, and I can’t help the snark that falls from my lips.
“Maybe it’s the universe finding you undeserving of an heir.” I take a sip of my wine, satisfied with that jab.
Quick as lightning, he’s back with bloody fingers digging into my hair, wrenching my head back to stare into my eyes.
“You should hope not. Then I would have no reason to keep you alive,” he says in a sinister tone, pushing my head away before leaving the room.
It’s midnight as I shuffle down to the kitchen for my insomnia snack.
I’m not surprised when I round the entry to see Michael is awake, too.
His head snaps in my direction as he comes from the pantry with his favorite chips.
In his other hand is a kettle and a pack of lavender tea, my remedy for sleepless nights.
“Just in case,” he says, holding up the kettle for me to see clearly.
Butterflies take flight in my stomach at the attention to detail he showers me with.
This has been our routine for months. One I’ve found myself looking forward to.
Most times, it’s just me down here, but the nights when he can’t sleep and he joins me feel magical.
It’s like the universe is granting us much needed alone time.
We’ve learned so much about each other in these stolen midnight moments.
It’s in this kitchen that he divulged being a mama’s boy, especially after losing his father as a small child.
His favorite color is the same green as the tiny flecks in my hazel eyes.
Winter is his favorite season. He learned that despite my thoughts on how my mother allowed my father to treat her, she is my best friend.
Michael fills the kettle before placing it on the stove.
He is wearing grey sweatpants and a white undershirt that has his muscles fully on display, which I admire on my way to the pantry.
I quickly turn my focus towards choosing my snack of choice for the night, attempting to distract myself from being reckless.
Shock moves through me when a hand comes around the front of my silk night gown, pressing me back into a hard body. Soft lips press kisses down my neck before I turn around, facing him, to find a seductive smile lighting his face.
“Starting trouble so soon?” I ask before leaning up to kiss him.
I fall into the kiss with a sense of urgency, but Michael’s hold on the back of my neck slows things down. My body relaxes into his, enjoying the feel of his full lips on mine. The stroke of his soft tongue licking into my mouth pulls a small moan from me as he pulls back.
“With good reason,” he says, voice rough with lust.
He places wet kisses down the side of my neck before working his way back to my mouth, kissing me so deeply that I feel dizzy with want.
One hand moves down my back, grabbing my ass in a punishing grip.
The other cups my breast before pinching my nipple to a hardened peak.
Goosebumps rise all over my body as his hand moves lower, sliding the silk material against my skin.
I moan at the contact of his fingers in my panties, rubbing my clit.
“Not that I’m complaining, but wanna share the good reason with the class?” I ask breathlessly.
“He isn’t here.” My sex-clouded brain takes a moment to soak in the words. “We’re truly alone.”
This is the first time since moving to the Rose compound that Ashton has taken a trip out of town. Which means half the security is with him and fewer people are here with us.
“We both know this is a line we can’t come back from crossing,” I say softly, licking my tongue across his lips, addicted to the taste.
“Fuck it. I don’t want to come back from this,” he growls.
Our kisses turn frenzied as he scoops me up into his arms and my legs wrap around his waist. He moves us deeper into the pantry, finding a spot on the floor to lie down and pulling me onto him.
He pushes down the straps of my pajamas, freeing the top half of my body.
Michael groans as he leans forward, capturing my nipple in his mouth and suckling.
I stifle the moan he pulls from me as my hands move to the back of his head, urging him closer.
My silky nightgown gathers at my waist. His hands grip my hips and grind my center onto his erection.
“Don’t make me wait any longer,” I whine helplessly.
My plea seems to snap the fraction of control he was holding on to. The fabric bites, digging into my skin as Michael rips my panties from my body. I lean forward, reaching between us to grab his dick before aligning it with the place I need him most.
My body is dripping wet for him, and he moans at the contact as I rub my wetness across his length.
His grip on my waist tightens as he lifts my body, aligning our most intimate parts, and slowly pushes into me, savoring the connection.
We move in unison, his hips working, driving up into me at a languid pace.
When he bottoms out inside me, we pause, both taking in this moment.
The only thing that could make this more perfect is being in a bed and not the pantry. I look down to find him staring at me like I’m an angel that’s come to save his soul. Holding his eye contact, I grind my hips and watch his mouth fall open slightly as he moans for me.
“Fuck that feels good. Just like that, Princess.”
I do as I’m told, riding him and capturing all the passion I’ve been craving from this amazing man.
My head thrown back, I bask in the euphoric bliss.
I feel the quickening of my body readying for a long-overdue climactic release.
One of his hands leaves my waist, sliding into my hair and tightening at the nape as he brings my attention back to him.
“You’re mine,” he demands, taking over, thrusting deeper. “I’ve waited far too damn long to claim what’s mine.”
“Yes, I’m yours,” I confirm with certainty.
I don’t want this moment to end. My climax crashes over me and he finds his release soon after. We’re both breathing deep as he peppers sweet kisses over my face. He gently lifts me, removing himself from my body.
“Wow, that was worth the wait,” I say breathlessly, lying across his chest.
He chuckles, rubbing his hands over my back, “You’re worth the wait. How are you feeling? I’m sorry this moment couldn’t have been more romantic. I promise to make it up to you.”
“I’m feeling amazing. Like I could actually sleep,” I giggle, running my hand down his face.
We eventually pull ourselves together, knowing we can’t hide out in the pantry forever.
Michael pockets my tattered underwear that was carelessly thrown to the floor with a cocky smirk.
I’m smiling ear to ear, walking on cloud nine as I exit the pantry, coming face to face with Kathy holding a squealing teapot from the stovetop.
I halt in my tracks, causing Michael to bump into the back of me.
“Well, shit,” Kathy exhales in resignation.