CHAPTER 4

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 tongue.

His laugh was low and lacked humor. “Sorry won’t save you here, Naomi. Not in my world.”

Suddenly, he touched my chin, tilting my face up so I could look into his eyes. He touched me coldly, and I felt a chill.

"This won't work if you cower every time I speak." He said his voice falling to a menacing mumble as he “You’ll need to be stronger than that.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’ll try.”

Roman grinned more broadly, but it lacked warmth. "Good girl."

It felt like a sarcastic, hollow compliment. He released my chin and stepped back, pointing to the stairs before I could reply. "Follow me."

I hesitated, I didn't know if I should move or wait for further instruction.

"Now, Naomi." He yelled, with an unyielding tone.

With lead-like legs, I followed him up the stairs. With its gold-accented railings, intricately carved ceilings, and walls lined with valuable artwork, the mansion's overwhelming magnificence overtook me. Despite its beauty, it felt like a gilded cage.

Roman walked me down a lengthy corridor with closed doors and turned left at the top of the stairs. He stopped in front of one and unlocked it, exposing an opulent bedroom more significant than the apartment I grew up in.

This is yours." His voice was emotionless as he said.

The luxurious furniture, including the silk-draped four-poster bed, the crystal chandelier that softly illuminated the room, and the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city skyline, drew my tentative steps inside. Although it was lovely, it seemed impersonal and icy.

“Why a separate room?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Roman squinted his eyes. "Did you expect to share mine?”

Heat shot up my cheeks. "I—I had a thought—"

He interrupted me as he moved closer. "Naomi,” he said in a low, menacing voice. “You’re here because I need you to play a part. Nothing more. Don’t confuse this arrangement with anything else.”

I nodded hastily, reluctant to look him in the eye.

"Good." He said, his voice grew a little softer. "Because I don't put up with trouble."

With a trembling breath, I slid onto the edge of the bed. My legs finally gave way, and I heard the door close behind him gently.

I was up for hours, yet I couldn't sleep. The contract, Roman's icy gaze, and the mansion's intimidating grandeur all felt like a weight pressing down on me.

I was startled by a knock at the door and jumped up, my heart pounding.

"Come in," I said nervously.

A storm of Roman's presence filled the room as he walked in. The white shirt underneath was undone at the collar, and he was no longer wearing his suit jacket. His eyes still had the same intensity that made me uneasy, but he appeared more at ease.

His tone was unclear when he said, "I see you've settled in."

"I—yes," I stammered.

He moved slowly and deliberately in my direction. “Good. Because tomorrow, you’ll begin your new role as Mrs. Blackwood. And I expect you to be ready.”

"I don't even know what that means," I admitted, with a quivering voice.

Roman stopped a few feet away from me, his gaze sharp. “It means you’ll do as you’re told. No questions. No hesitation.”

I turned away, unable to keep his gaze. “I don’t understand why it has to be like this,” I said quietly.

His laugh was harsh and low. “Because this isn’t a fairy tale, Naomi. This is survival. Yours. Your father’s. And mine.”

His fingers brushed a lock of hair from my face as he stepped closer before I could reply. It was an unexpected touch that gave me a shock of energy.

"Don't mistake my generosity for weakness," he said, his tone low and perilously intimate. “I can be ruthless, Naomi. And if you step out of line, you’ll see just how far I’m willing to go.”

I could feel his heat on me, and my breath caught. I briefly thought he was going to kiss me. The tension in the air between us was so intense that it made my knees weak and my heart racing.

But then, just as suddenly as he’d closed the distance, he stepped back, his expression hardening.

He turned to face the door and muttered icily, "Goodnight, Naomi."

I felt a mixture of relief and bewilderment as I watched him go.

My breath came out shakily as the door clicked behind him. As my fingertips touched the silky duvet, the truth of my predicament began to set in.

My gaze then landed on the bedside table. A black folder bearing Roman's initials lay beneath the lamp's gentle glow.

I hesitated, my hands trembling as I picked it up.

The first page was sterile and professional, with the words “Marriage Contract” scrawled in bold letters at the top.

But it was the list below that chilled me.

Clause 1: The wife shall…

Each line was more constrictive than the one before it when my eyes passed across them.

And then, at the very bottom of the page, one line stood out, the ink darker as though pressed harder against the paper:

All rights and protections will be immediately revoked if noncompliance occurs.

I stared at the words, my hands trembling, my heart pounding in my chest. What had I gotten myself into?