I never wanted to be his wife. I hated Roman Blackwood because he was untouchable, conceited, and ruthless. However, When my father’s debts threatened to destroy us, I had no choice but to sign the contract that bound me to him. My freedom was just another possession in his universe. His words, his rules, and the gloomy fire in his eyes caused me to doubt my sanity. To withstand his icy indifference and the violent intimacy that left me simultaneously breathless and broken, I tried to be invisible. But, his betrayal was worse than his cruelty. In the fine print of our marriage, I discovered the truth: I wasn't just his wife. I was a pawn in a game I don't understand. And when I challenged him, his cold grin made it clear that I meant nothing to him. So I ran. I believed I could leave the man who broke me and start a new life. But Roman doesn't lose and forgive. He is now chasing me, saying he is a different person and pledging atonement. However, when I discover a secret that he has kept even from himself, I realize that the monster I escaped from may be the only one who can protect me from what lies ahead. Because when Roman Blackwood threatened to destroy anyone who attempted to take me away from him, he wasn't lying. Even if it's me.
View MoreThe Painting IncidentNaomi's POVWith the exception of my brush's gentle rasp across the canvas, the studio was silent. Bold and forceful, the colors swirled together in violent, chaotic strokes of black and red. Every movement of my hand served as a release and a conduit for the feelings churning within me. But the harsh, deliberate tap on the door broke the haven I had found in my work. "Naomi." My hold on the brush tightened as Roman's rich voice reverberated through the wood. I hoped he would go, so I didn't respond. Rather, the door creaked open, and he was there, his presence like a storm cloud filling the room. "I didn't say you could come in,” I said, without looking back. Roman stepped closer, his footsteps resonating on the hardwood floor, and shut the door behind him. "You haven't been avoiding me." "Have I?" With a bland voice, I continued without stopping. "I didn't notice that." "Enough." His voice sliced like a whip through the atmosphere. "Turn and look
Trapped and TremblingNaomi's POVI gazed at the dish of food in front of me, cold and untouched. With its polished silver and crystal glasses, the sophisticated table arrangement only served to heighten the eerie quiet in the dining room. I was left to battle the burden of my thoughts alone in the empty mansion as Roman had disappeared elsewhere. But in this house, loneliness didn't stay long. Before Camille even made her appearance in the doorway, the click of heels on marble signaled her presence. As if she had come out of a beautiful magazine, her dark hair fell over her shoulders as she moved with a predatory ease. "Well, look who's sulking." She said, with a tone full of faux tenderness. She walked confidently into the room, her presence like a thunder cloud. I tensed, holding onto the table's edge. "What are you looking for, Camille?" The pointy tips of her stilettos tapped the floor as she walked around the table, her smile growing. “Oh, don’t look so defensive. I’m
Secrets Beneath the Surface Naomi's POV The mansion's grand halls were eerily silent, except for the soft padding of my bare feet on the marble floors. I'd been wandering for hours, trying to clear my head after the charity event. Camille's harsh words, Roman's unexpected defense, and the overwhelming atmosphere of wealth and power had left me feeling raw and restless.As I wandered deeper into the mansion, the silence grew thicker, the distant hum of activity fading away. I halted in front of a plain door, inconspicuously nestled in a corner of an otherwise opulent hallway. The door's simplicity stood out against the surrounding richness, making it seem out of place. It was a smooth surface painted a subdued gray, with no elaborate carvings or gilt knobs. It stood out from the other doors in the mansion, as if the person who created the palace's design had chosen to have this one disappear into the background. To me, it didn't blend. I stepped closer, curiosity pulling me in
A Glimpse of Vulnerability Naomi's POVThe big ballroom was filled with the gentle buzz of talk and the clinking of glasses, yet it all seemed to me to be static. I gripped a glass of sparkling water, my palms shaking as the cold crystal pressed against my palm. The charity event Roman had dragged me to was another cruel reminder of the world I didn’t belong to—a world where everyone wore masks, their smiles polished but heartless. “You’re doing fine,” Roman’s deep voice cut through my thoughts, startling me. He was standing next to me, his black tuxedo perfectly cut, when I turned around. His demeanor was unreadable as his eyes flicked over me. I“I didn’t ask for your reassurance,” I said, but there wasn't much animosity in my voice. A little sneer twisted his lips. "It wasn't reassuring. It was an observation.” A voice cut me off before I could respond. “Roman! You’ve outdone yourself with this event.” A woman wearing an emerald-green dress and nicely coiffed blond ha
A Tense Alliance Roman's POVThe constant clicking of the clock was testing my patience in my studies. Sitting at the polished wood desk, I saw how thoughtfully every part of the room was set out. The soft glow of the chandelier cast a golden hue across the room, but it could not break the ice in my chest. Victor Carter was running late, and I was feeling less than usual. When the door creaked open, I clenched my jaw. “You are fifteen minutes late.”With a weary look on his face, Victor came in. His clothing was crumpled, the tie was loose around his neck, and his eyes were bloodshot as if he hadn't slept in days. For good reason; he looked like a man in chaos. "I'm sorry, Roman," he whispered in a low voice than I remember. He stopped and stood for a time in the doorway. "Close the door." My voice was sharp, leaving no room for debate. As instructed, he shuffled over to the chair across from me. He sat down heavily as if his choices were suddenly too much to carry. “You k
The Fragile ArtistRoman's POV The hallway stretched in eerie silence, broken only by the faint whisper of Naomi's footsteps as they faded into the night. She hadn’t returned to her room, not that I expected her to. Her retreat was different tonight, more desperate. A dim light glowed through the crack of an open door as my hand touched the doorframe of one of the mansion's less-used wings. I heard a faint, hardly inaudible rustling. My heartbeat accelerated, but I couldn't explain why. What is she doing here?Slowly, I pushed the door open and entered the dark studio. I was struck by the smell of oil paints and turpentine, which blended with the subtle floral perfume that followed her around. She held a paintbrush, her shoulders shaking, and her back bent. Her brushstrokes on the canvas were erratic and frantic, as if the emotions she was experiencing were bursting forth in colors she could not control. Strands of her hair were falling over her face, somewhat untied. I was
Camille’s Entrance Roman's POVI was studying and reviewing contracts that were as boring as they always are. I planned to enjoy the rare moment of peace that the house's peaceful hum provided. But, with most things in my life lately, that peace didn’t last long.The sound of heels clicking against the marble floors below reached me first, sharp and deliberate. Then came the voice silky, confident, and unmistakably hers."Roman!" Camille’s voice called, her voice as sweet-sounding as I remembered.Lately, it has been too quiet. In my world, peace was always calm before the impending storm. With a deep exhale, I closed the folder in front of me. “Of course,” I said to myself. “I should have expected this.”Without a knock, the door of my study flung open. She was all decked up in a crimson dress that clung to her like the epitome of ambition. You could have mistaken her smile for friendly if you didn’t know better. “Is this a bad time?” Camille asked, without waiting for a respo
A Tyrant's Dinner Naomi's POV"Don't keep me waiting, Naomi." Roman's loud, irritated voice reverberated from downstairs.To stabilize my shaking hands, I held onto the edge of the table in my room. Dinner. It is just dinner. I remind myself, Nothing about Roman Blackwood ever felt so easy.I took a deep breath before entering the hallway and descending the grand staircase. The mansion's silence magnifies my heels clicking on the marble floor. Roman was already seated at the head of the long dining table, his gaze snapping to me as I entered. His tone was harsh as he remarked, "You're late." "I wasn't sure when—" "You weren't sure," he cut in, a sardonic smile curving his lips. “Let me clarify something for you, Naomi. In my house, you’ll always be sure. Understood?” I gave a brief nod, my cheeks flushed from his intense stare. "Yes." "Good." He said, pointing to the seat across from him. "Take a seat." The enormous chandelier in the dining room cast an almost unbearab
A Pawn in His Game “You’re late again.” Like a whip, Roman's words pierced the empty foyer. He descended the grand staircase with deliberate, measured steps, and I froze, gasping for oxygen. Like a physical weight of intensity, his piercing, icy blue eyes stared at me. “I—I didn’t know I was supposed to…” His lips curled into a chilly smile, and I stopped talking. "Suppose to what, Naomi?" he asked, stopping a few feet away from me. His massive body appeared even more menacing in the low light. “Act like a wife? Understand the simplest rules without being told?” I gripped the strap of my bag, my knuckles whitening. “I didn’t know there was a timeline,” I managed, though my voice sounded small and weak, even to my ears. Roman took a stride toward me, his pricey cologne enticing and smothering me at the same time. "There's always a timeline," he said softly, his tone surprisedly calm. "And you are already behind." “I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words tasting bitter on my t
A Contract with the Devil"You are what?" The words tasted strange in my mouth, and my voice broke.I'm arranging your marriage to Roman Blackwood,” My father quietly repeated, as if he were announcing the weather or an impending business meeting.The steady murmur of the antique clock on the mantel grew louder as I stared at him, my breath catching. "Dad, you can't be serious.""I'm very serious." Unperturbed, he sipped from his whiskey glass while leaning back in his chair. The room smelled like leather and oak, a sharp contrast to the bitter, metallic taste rising in my throat."Marry him?" I hardly raised my voice above a whisper. “You want me to marry a stranger? For what? Money?”My father put his glass down with a resounding thump, his face hardening and his jaw clenching. “Naomi, it's not just about the money. It's about survival.”"Survival?" I chuckled sourly, though it come out more like a sob. “You think it's survival to sell me to a billionaire?" "Watch your tone." Hi
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