ROME
Chapter forty-seven
Ishift on my feet as Rain slides a key into the lock of the mansion beside the one we currently occupy. “Why are we here?” I ask against the creak of the tall mahogany door.
“This is our new home.”
“Wh—” I’m cut off when he snatches my hand, pulling me into the dark foyer.
“You’re uncomfortable in that house. So, you can dictate who comes through that door.” He closes the door, flicking a switch.
Light glints off waterfall crystals of a three-tiered chandelier and the arched window above the front door. “You’re trying to buy me again,” I whisper, gaze trailing the light herringbone floor to the grand single staircase, the railing detailed with a swirling pattern.
What I want is to be in my house and not need to worry that, at any second, I’ll be held against my will as his bait.
“This house is purchased under an alias, making it hidden and safe, just like the other.” He reaches for my hand, but I cross my arms over my chest. “We’re an hour out of the city. You want quiet, you get quiet. You want space, you get space.”
“I was inferring I wanted space from you with that comment.”
He flashes that smouldering grin. “I’ll give you a tour.”
Reluctantly, I follow through the arched doorway to the right and into the extravagant white kitchen with black trimmings. Whomever owned this previously kept the medieval feel on the exterior, with vines twining up the beige walls, but modernised the interior.
“Dining room,” Rain chirps, pointing to the enormous wooden dining table beside the kitchen. “Living room.” He points through the arched doorway into another room, two steps lower than the current flooring, the separating wall built of warm coloured stone.
I’m reluctant to admit it aloud, but I much prefer the design of this house to the previous. That has cold marble floors and an eerie feel to it. This feels warmer, the air lighter.
I realise my face is displaying my awe when Rain smirks over his shoulder as he flicks on the light for the hall spanning off the dining room. I give an unaffected look as we round the indoor terrarium. “That was the reason I bought this house,” he explains. “I know you love nature.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Your algorithm.”
Fucking technology.
We pass a bathroom and bedroom beside the terrarium, coming to a spiral metal staircase at the end of the hall. The curved wall—containing mostly glass—displays a perfect view of the currently dark backyard.
“We can change the furniture however you want,” he says as we reach the top and pass three bedrooms. He points to the end of the hall. “Drawing room.”
This isn’t a mansion. This is a goddamn castle. Houses don’t have drawing rooms—ones he could transform into a studio.
Jesus, I’m already making plans.
We go left, rounding the top of the tall tree encased in glass. I glance right, noting the arched window and staircase.
He takes my hand, tugging me to a door on the left. The chandelier throws light across his soft smile as he reaches for the door handle. The floorboards creak as I step into the bedroom.
A bed with a white comforter sits across the room, an already lit fireplace centralised on the far-right wall, the arched theme present in the windows beside it. I let out a shaky breath, glancing past the bed to the wardrobe separating the bedroom and bathroom.
“So,” he whispers with a gentle stroke to my hand, “what do you think?” I tighten my lips, wanting to tell him that I hate it. “Baby, if you don’t like it, I can find something else.”
“Fuck you,” I choke out.
My stomach knots—not out of fear or anxiety like usual, but self-hatred, because all I want to do right now is kiss him.
He’s chose this house because I would like everything in it, because he wanted to give me a place where I would be comfortable in.
This house is an apology, one I want to be reluctant to accept, one I want to tell the bastard to take to hell with him, but I’m standing witness to his testament of trying.
“Baby, I know I—”
“I love it,” I whisper. My face heats as he takes my waist and I grip his annoyingly beautiful face. Before he can capture my lips, I pull back with a smile.
I am done being controlled by others and having my head forced underwater by the shame that’s ruled me for seven years. Sum qui sum. It’s about time I started acting like it.
“Rome,” he growls.
“Kneel,” I order, my heart pounding at the feel of his staggered breaths against my lips. Without hesitation, he falls to his knees before me. “You owe me an apology, so make it good.”
Heat permeates beneath my skin as he swiftly undoes my belt and zipper, pulling out my aching dick.
“I love you,” he whispers before sucking me into his warm mouth.
My lids flutter closed, and my head falls back on a loud moan. He hums, eliciting a pleasured quake from my body.
“Fuck.” I fist his hair and tug his head forward. He chokes when I force myself to the back of his throat.
My stomach shudders beneath his hand gliding to my nipple, and I suck a breath through my teeth when he rolls it between his fingers. Using my grip on his hair, I hold his head still and begin thrusting.
“F-fuck, Rain.”
My knees quake, threatening to give out as the orgasm tears through me. I spill into his mouth and shake his head before ripping him back by the hair, my release dripping from his lips.
He lets out a panted laugh as I wipe the cum dripping from his chin with my thumb and force it back into his mouth.