Chapter 4

Outside the room, Roman leaned against the wall, listening to Frida’s quiet sobs. The sound stirred a flicker of pity in him. He wasn’t entirely sure if he would have a docile wife, but he knew one thing for certain—he had a wounded woman by his side. Ignoring his urge to go in and comfort her, he decided to head to his study instead. Losing himself in work would keep him distracted.

After a while, the sound of a knock on the door startled Frida. She was already in her silk nightgown, ready to sleep in the bed that still carried Roman’s scent.

“Come in...” she called, half expecting it to be him, ready to share the bed. But it wasn’t. Instead, it was that all-too-familiar maid.

“Hello!” the maid greeted her with a broad smile as she entered, carrying a tray of food. “I’m Lory, by the way. I thought you’d be hungry, so I brought you something to eat.”

“Actually, I’m not hungry at all...” Frida replied.

“You really should eat. It’s not good for your health to skip meals.”

“I should be at the hospital, by my daughter’s side,” Frida said bitterly, tears once again streaming down her cheeks.

“You will be soon. This isn’t a prison. Mr. Gilbert will make sure your daughter gets better.”

“At what cost?” Frida shot her a reproachful look. “He may not be ugly on the outside, but he certainly is on the inside.”

“Many women would jump at the chance to be Roman’s wife, even if it’s just a contract.”

“Many women... but not me. I actually love myself enough not to fall for insufferable, arrogant men who think they’re better than everyone else. That man needs a lesson in humility.”

“Take it easy. The contract’s already signed, and changing your mind won’t be so simple. Enjoy yourself while your daughter recovers,” Lory added, turning to leave. “And in case you were wondering... yes, he asked me to bring you the food. He didn’t want you to go to bed without dinner.”

Once again, Frida was left alone, staring at the reheated meal, realizing that she was, in fact, hungry.

-

She woke early the next morning, putting on a stunning red dress before gazing at herself in the mirror. It wasn’t that she didn’t recognize herself, but rather, she remembered who she had once been—a woman who wore elegant clothes and lived a life filled with success, all of which had been derailed. Running away with Gary had been the worst decision of her life.

Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open, releasing a thick cloud of steam, and out walked Roman, a towel wrapped around his waist, his toned torso still glistening with water. Frida hadn’t even realized when he had entered the room. She’d been so exhausted the night before that she hadn’t heard him.

Roman, on the other hand, had enjoyed watching her sleep, tangled in the sheets. He had brushed a few strands of hair away from her face and relished in the feel of her soft skin. She hadn’t stirred, though. She was so tired that, if she had felt his touch, she must have thought it was part of a dream.

“That dress suits you,” Roman commented as he walked past her, close enough to send a shiver down her spine. “I think red is your color.”

Frida searched her brain, struggling to come up with a response.

“Did you enjoy the food?” Roman added with a satisfied smile, knowing she had eaten every bite, leaving the plates spotless. “Pride never does anyone any good, especially when you need to eat.”

“Are you always this unpleasant?” Frida asked, crossing her arms, her gaze wandering over Roman’s broad back.

He had a tattoo stretching across his back, and not only that, but his left arm was also covered in skulls and roses. They were aggressive tattoos, adding to his rough persona, something Frida hadn’t expected to find beneath his serious suit.

“Unpleasant?” Roman was amused by her boldness. “You’re the first to say that to me.”

“That’s probably because no one’s gotten to know you well enough.”

“And you don’t know me well enough either,” he replied, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t need to, considering the deal we’ve made.”

“You’re wrong... You will have to,” he said, turning toward her as he let the towel drop, causing Frida to reflexively turn away, her embarrassment bringing a teasing smile to Roman’s lips.

“You’ll have to know that we met at the hospital, that it was love at first sight, that we’ve been together for months, and that we’re so sure of our love that we’re ready to take the next step.” He leaned in close, his breath brushing against her ear, sending a shiver throughout her body.

“You’ve really thought this through...”

“I like having everything under control.”

“How boring it must be to live without surprises.” Frida turned to face him. He had already slipped into his trousers, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing his toned abs.

“At my age, surprises aren’t as fun anymore...” Roman fixed his dark eyes on Frida’s full lips, tempted to claim a kiss from that defiant mouth.

“You say that like you’re so old... How old are you?”

“I’ll be forty soon,” he replied, stepping closer, his presence intimidating, but Frida didn’t back down. “Too old for you.”

“It’s only fourteen years, almost fifteen,” Frida breathed, feeling her pulse quicken as Roman’s proximity overwhelmed her.

“Fourteen years is no small gap. It’s fourteen years of life I’ve lived more than you. Fourteen years of experience in many things.”

Without realizing it, Frida had been backed up against the wall, Roman mere inches away, his heat radiating against her skin as his breath mingled with hers.

“How bold...”

Frida tried to hold her ground, but the smug half-smile on Roman’s face was making her feel unsteady. Her body wanted to throw itself into his arms, but her pride urged her to push him away.

“Keep pushing me. I think we’re making good progress in this relationship,” Roman said, placing his hands on either side of her, effectively trapping her.

“Oh, really? You want to make this a bit more realistic?” Frida raised an eyebrow, slipping under his arm to put some distance between them. “I’m going to see my daughter. I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up, and don’t think for a second that I’m sharing a bed with you tonight. You can sleep in the tub or on the couch... whatever suits you best.”

She knew her joke had gone too far, but she wasn’t about to apologize. She turned and avoided looking at Roman, assuming he would be angry. But instead of anger, he was surprised... and indignant.

Before she could reach the door, Roman wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground and gently placing her on the bed. Before she could react, he had pinned her wrists against the mattress, his body hovering above hers as his hot breath fanned against the delicate skin of her neck.

“You seem to forget one tiny detail... my love,” he whispered against her neck, clearly amused. “There’s a contract that says you’re mine, and that means every night you’ll be here, between my legs.”

“You-” Frida was choking on her anger, struggling for words. The idea didn’t entirely repulse her, but her pride refused to let her give in so easily.

Before she could finish, Roman claimed her lips in a fierce kiss. Their first kiss. Frida responded by biting him. She pushed him away for a moment, but it wasn’t enough. With an arrogant smile, Roman seized her lips again, savoring the taste of her, mingling the blood from his split lip with her sweet saliva. It was a wild, passionate kiss, one that Frida soon matched, both of them driven by the same hunger. Her body writhed beneath him, not to escape, but to pull him closer.

When they finally broke apart and stared into each other’s eyes, they both knew something had shifted between them. Desire pulsed within them, but there was something deeper, something they couldn’t yet name. Slowly, Roman got up, leaving Frida sprawled on the bed, feeling like a rag doll, too drained to move as she processed what had just happened.

“I’ll go with you to the hospital. I want to meet Emma,” Roman said, drawing Frida’s attention and making her sit up in a daze.