CHAPTER 5

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 unbearably bright glow, making the space oppressively large. The size of the room, the table, and Roman himself made me feel small.

"Will every meal feel like this?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I took my seat.

Roman raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"Like a negotiation," I murmured before I could stop.

He sat back in his chair and looked at me with a hint of laughter. “You’ll find that I negotiate everything, Naomi. Even dinner.”

A server brought plates of food to us. Roman's actions were precise and calculated as he took up his fork, breaking the unbearable silence. I paused, then imitated him, sensing his gaze as I took each bite.

“You look uncomfortable,” he said after a moment.

"Is it that obvious?" I mumbled, regretting the words as soon as they left my mouth.

Roman's icy chuckle chilled me to the bone. "You're open and honest. If you wish to survive here, you need to fix that.”

“Survive?” I put down my fork and repeated. “Is that what this is? Survival?”

Roman’s gaze hardened. “For you, yes. For me, it’s business.”

I don't know why, but the words hurt. "Work," I repeated. “Business,” I echoed. “Of course. How silly of me to think it could be anything else.”

“Don’t play coy, Naomi,” he said, his tone sharp. “You knew exactly what you were signing up for.”

His words struck a chord, and I winced. "I had no choice."

"You always have a choice." He retorted with a low, menacing voice. "You just don't like alternatives."

I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but the truth was, he wasn’t. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as if he found my stillness amusing.

Eat." He pointed to my untouched plate.

"I'm not hungry," I said softly.

Roman's face grew serious. “Naomi, you will eat. Or do I need to spell out every rule for you?”

The cold authority in his voice left no room for argument. The food tasted like ash in my mouth, but I forced myself to take a piece with my fork.

"Good girl,” He said, in a condescending manner.

I gritted my teeth and swallowed the food and the rage building inside me. "Do you enjoy this?" I asked, and I was even surprised at how daring the question was.

"Enjoy what?" He questioned with a kind tone and warning flashes in his eyes.

“Being cruel,” I said, my voice trembling. “You seem to enjoy it.”

Roman’s laugh was low and cold, devoid of any real humor. “Cruelty is just honesty without the sugar coating. You’ll learn to appreciate it.”

Unable to look him in the eye, I glanced down at my plate. "I don't think so."

My breath caught at the intensity of his eyes as he abruptly leaned forward. “Doubt all you want, Naomi. But in this house, you’ll follow my rules. And you’ll do it without question.”

I nodded softly and gulped hard. "I get it."

“Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Because I don’t have time to deal with defiance.”

The tension between us was obvious throughout the rest of the meal, which was consumed in a deafening silence. I wanted to scream, to cry, to run, but I did none of those things. Instead, I sat there, enduring the weight of Roman’s gaze and the suffocating atmosphere of his world.

Roman stood up after dinner, fiddling with his cufflinks and everything else. “I have business to attend to,” he said, his tone dismissive. “You’ll stay here. No wandering.”

"Where could I possibly go?" I asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

A smile curved his lips, but it stopped short of his eyes. "Exactly."

I watched him leave, the click of his shoes fading into the distance. I felt the burden of my predicament descend upon me like a thick blanket as I stood alone in the enormous dining room.

I was about to return to my room when I heard a faint rustling.

It was coming from the far corner of the room, near a set of double doors I hadn’t noticed before. My pulse quickened as I approached, the sound growing louder.

I paused when I got to the doors, my fingers lingering over the doorknob. There was something strange about this place. But the door sprang open before I could convince myself otherwise.

And there stood Roman, silhouetted against the gloom.

"I thought I told you not to wander,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“I wasn’t wandering,” I stammered, taking a step back. “I heard something—”

Roman interrupted me as his gaze furrowed. “And you thought it was a good idea to roam about? In my house?”

"I didn't mean to—"

"Enough," he said abruptly, his tone icy. He took a step closer, and I felt small compared to his imposing presence. “You don’t listen, Naomi. And that’s going to be a problem.”

His palm brushed my arm as he reached for me, and my heart raced. The touch was light but charged, sending a shiver down my spine.

“I—I won’t do it again,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

Roman's eyes softened a little, but he tightened his hold on my arm. "Make sure you don't," he added, his tone still cold

He stood for a minute, staring into my eyes. The tension in the air between us was so intense that it made my stomach turn over.

And then, just as suddenly as he’d grabbed me, he let go, his expression unreadable.

"Go to your room,” he said, his voice flat. “Now.”

I didn’t argue. I turned and fled, my heart pounding in my chest as I climbed the stairs and shut the door behind me.

But as I leaned against the door, trying to catch my breath, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Roman Blackwood was more than just cruel.

He was dangerous.

And I was trapped.