Chapter 16
Nadia
The party wrapped up late into the night. After saying goodbye to the happy newlyweds, Roman guided me off the boat, his arm around my waist.
"I'm not getting in the car."
I pushed away his hand as he tried to help me into the vehicle, swaying slightly as I stood on the dock. The sea breeze made me shiver, but my cheeks burned hot.
"Nadia, you're drunk." Roman's voice carried a hint of resignation.
"I'm not drunk." I insisted stubbornly, even though I could hear my own tongue tripping over the words. "I just... I just want to walk back. The beach house isn't far, right?"
I looked up at him. In the moonlight, his features seemed especially striking. Those deep brown eyes studied me intently, as if assessing my condition.
"Fine." He finally gave in, waving the driver away. "But hold onto me. This road isn't safe."
"I'm not a child," I muttered, but obediently grabbed his outstretched arm anyway.
We walked slowly along the coastline.
The night was dark, but the moon was bright, bathing the entire beach in silvery light. Waves rhythmically crashed against the shore, making low, moaning sounds.
The alcohol made my thoughts both muddled and brutally honest.
Tonight's party had been too dreamlike. The music, champagne, laughter, and those unfamiliar but friendly faces. Most importantly, Roman's presence.
He'd been different tonight.
He hadn't maintained his usual distance, hadn't watched me with that predatory intensity. He'd been like... a normal newlywed husband, accompanying his wife to a friend's party.
He'd taught me to swim, danced with me, draped a towel over my shoulders when I was cold, and taken drinks from my hand when I'd had too many.
Those small details, those casual moments of tenderness—they were like keys, picking the locks on my guarded heart.
And what scared me more—
I was starting to enjoy this feeling.
I enjoyed the firmness of his arm around my waist, enjoyed the gentleness in his voice when he spoke low to me, enjoyed the envious looks from everyone around us.
But I knew it was all fake.
This was just a one-year deal. After that year, I'd leave and return to my own life. And he'd go back to being a mob boss, marry the next woman useful to him, or continue his blood-soaked, violent existence.
That knowledge felt like an invisible hand squeezing my heart, making it almost impossible to breathe.
"Watch it." Roman's voice cut through my thoughts.
I looked down to see a reef buried in the sand. I nearly tripped, but he caught me in time.
"Thanks," I said quietly.
"You really are drunk." He sighed. "I should've stopped you after that last tequila."
"That one tasted good," I argued. "And Chloe said newlyweds should get completely wasted, so they can... they can..."
I suddenly forgot what Chloe had actually said.
"So they can what?" Roman asked, amusement coloring his voice.
"I forgot," I admitted.
He laughed softly. The sound was low and magnetic, especially beautiful in the quiet night.
I looked up at him.
Moonlight fell across his profile, highlighting his perfect jawline. The wind had messed up his hair, a few black strands falling across his forehead, making him look less severe than usual, more lazily sensual.
My heart suddenly raced.
I didn't know if it was the alcohol or the atmosphere, but I felt a powerful urge—
I wanted to kiss him.
Not because we were acting, not to fool anyone watching, but because I genuinely, desperately wanted to kiss this man.
But my rational mind fought back.
"No, Nadia," I told myself. "You can't do this. You can't fall for him. Riley was right—he's dangerous. He'll destroy you."
But another voice argued back. "But what if you only have one year? What if this is the only time you'll ever have him? Do you want to spend the rest of your life regretting it?"
I stopped walking.
"What's wrong?" Roman noticed immediately, turning to face me. "Are you feeling sick?"
I shook my head.
No.
I was done running.
These past days, I'd been lying to myself, telling myself this was just a transaction, telling myself to keep my distance, telling myself I'd be free in a year.
But the truth was—
I was already in too deep.
From the moment he'd dealt with that man hitting on me at the restaurant, from when he'd carefully placed that ring on my finger, from when he'd swum with me in the ocean, from when he'd said "I'll give you a marriage worth remembering."...
I knew I was done for.
Riley was right—I was starved for affection.
I was desperate to be cherished, desperate to be cared for, desperate for someone to see the real me, not just the daughter my parents had used as currency.
And Roman... he'd given me all of that.
Even if it might only be temporary, even if we'd separate after a year, even if this man was dangerous enough to ruin my life—
At least right now, in this moment, on this moonlit beach, I wanted him.
I wanted this moment to be real.
Screw the contract marriage. Screw the mob boss thing. Screw whatever happened after a year.
Tonight, I just wanted to be Nadia Cross.
A woman who craved love, craved touch, craved to feel alive.
Before he could react, I rose up on my toes.
My hands found his shoulders as my lips pressed against his.
Roman went rigid.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds...
Then his arms tightened like iron bands around my waist, pulling me completely into his embrace.
He started kissing me back.
No—he took control.
His kiss was all aggression and possession, his tongue prying my lips apart, invading, claiming every inch of my mouth. I could barely breathe, could only clutch his shirt as he took what he wanted.
The kiss was too intense, so intense my knees went weak, so intense I nearly melted into him.
When he finally released me, we were both panting, chests heaving.
"Nadia..." His voice was dangerously hoarse, his eyes gleaming like a predator's in the darkness. "Do you know what you're doing?"
"I know." I heard myself say, my voice trembling slightly. "I'm completely sober, Roman. More sober than I've ever been."
It was a lie.
I wasn't sober at all.
The alcohol, the moonlight, the waves, this man's body heat—they were destroying what was left of my rational mind.
But I didn't care anymore.
Just this once.
Let me be selfish just this once.
"Fuck." Roman cursed under his breath, then suddenly bent down and swept me into his arms.
"What are you doing?" I gasped.
"The hotel's too far." His voice was low and dangerous. "And I want you right now."
He strode toward the deeper part of the beach, where rocks created a hidden alcove. The moonlight couldn't reach there—only the sound of waves crashing against stone.
He set me down, my back against the smooth rock face.
"Last chance, kitten." He leaned in, his nose brushing my cheek, his warm breath ghosting over my neck. "If you say no now, I can still control myself. But if you don't..."
His hand found the thin tie at my waist.
"I'll fuck you until you lose your voice."
My heart pounded so hard it felt like it would leap from my throat.
Fear, anticipation, desire—emotions crashed through me like waves.
But finally, I lifted my arms and wrapped them around his neck.
"Then don't disappoint me," I whispered against his ear.
Roman's eyes went dark.
The next second, his mouth was on mine again, wilder and more ferocious than before.
Roman's mouth claimed mine with a hunger that left no room for thought. His tongue thrust past my lips, and I met him just as fiercely. My fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer until there was nothing between us but the thin fabric of my dress and the heat rolling off his body.
I was drunk enough that the edges of the world felt soft, but not so drunk that I didn't know exactly what I wanted. Him. Now. Hard.
I hooked one leg around his hip and dragged him in, grinding against the thick length straining his trousers.
A low sound rumbled out of him. His hand fisted in the thin tie at my waist and yanked.
The dress parted easily, the fabric slipping down my arms until it pooled at my elbows, leaving me bare from the waist up, and my nipples tightened instantly.
Roman's eyes dropped to them, dark and hungry, and then his mouth followed.
He sucked one peak hard, teeth scraping just enough to make me gasp.
My head fell back against the rock. I arched into him, offering more, my hands sliding up into his hair to hold him there.
He switched to the other breast, licking and biting, while his free hand shoved the rest of the dress higher around my hips.
Cool air hit the damp fabric of my underwear.
His fingers hooked under the edge and tore.
The scrap of lace gave with a soft rip. I didn't care.
I only pushed my hips forward, seeking his touch.
"Fuck, look at you," he muttered against my skin, voice rough. "Soaking already."
His fingers slid between my thighs, two of them pushing into me without warning.
I cried out, the sound swallowed by the next crash of waves.
He curled them, finding that spot that made my knees threaten to give, and started working me with steady, deep strokes.
My hips moved on their own, chasing every thrust of his hand.
I reached for his belt, fingers clumsy with want and the leftover buzz of alcohol.
He let me fumble for a second before helping, shoving his trousers and underwear down just far enough.
His cock sprang free, thick and hot against my stomach.
I wrapped my hand around him and stroked once, twice, feeling him pulse. He groaned into my neck.
"Put it in," I whispered, already tilting my hips. "Please. I need it."