Spoken For (14 page)

On the long drive, I accept that I’m stuck with Roman for the next few weeks. I won’t run again. I’m not as flippant about the whole dying thing as I was before I saw the ghostly look on Liam’s face.

When we arrive at Roman’s home, I’m already converted, resigned to the fact that this luxurious estate is no longer my prison but a sanctuary. Once inside, I start across the hallway to the stairs for my bedroom but Roman’s hand on my arm halts me.

“This way,” he says, guiding me in the opposite direction.

Bold, of course, follows a step behind.

I recognise the way, the magnificent scenes beyond the walls of sheer glass as we head for his study. I wonder if this means he’s finally ready to divulge the true extent of what’s going on.

He closes the door, leaving Bold outside in the passage. When he walks up to take the coat I’ve shrugged out of, his raw gaze falls on me and I’m thrown into a thousand memories. His sculptured jaw grazing my cheek as he brushes kisses toward my mouth. The silver glint of hunger in his eyes that devours both of us. His muscled body rolling over me, into me, filling me with wicked longings I’d never imagined existed.

My pulse ticks faster and faster as that tell-tale softness hits behind my knees. I’m such a fool.

I’m not invincible. I’m not untouchable. When it comes to Roman Rocchi, I am only his.

“Roman…” A thickness wedges in my throat.

He removes his own coat and hangs both on the coat-tree in the corner. By the time he turns back to me, his gaze has shuttered the heat into stone-cold grey.

His hands go to the buckle of his belt. “I warned you what would happen if you put yourself in danger.”

Confusion spins those sweet, sexy memories into a blur as I watch him slide his belt through the loops.

“Over the desk, Keegan.”

My stomach drops. “Roman, no…”

His jaw clenches and he doesn’t say anything, merely winds one end of the belt around his palm and gestures toward the desk.

My feet refuse to move. “You don’t have to. I won’t run again. I think—I
do
realise now how serious this is.”

“I hope so, I sincerely do,” he says. “But I will not have you mistaking my words and promises as idle nonsense.”

“I don’t,” I say quickly, but guilt flushes my skin because of course that’s precisely what I’d presumed.

“When I spell out the consequences, they don’t disappear just because you’ve learnt the cost of your foolish and potentially lethal actions.”

I barely register the grimly delivered lecture. I glance at the door…

“I’m waiting, Keegan. Either place yourself over the desk, or I’ll call Bold in and he can hold you down over his lap. Maybe you’d prefer that?”

“You bastard,” I spit out. “You wouldn’t dare…”

I bite down on my tongue at the ridiculous improbability of this moment. Roman is a cold bastard and of course he would dare.

“Don’t do this,” I say, not pleading or begging or even fighting. My voice is flat.

This is make or break.

I will never forgive him for this.

“It will go worse for you the longer you make me wait, Keegan. We’re already up to ten strokes.”

I glare at the belt fisted in one hand, then up into his eyes. The strain pulls at the corner of his eyes, hardens the edges of his mouth, reshapes the dark beauty of his face into a harsh wasteland.

He’s not enjoying this, but he is absolutely determined to go through with it.

“Twelve and counting.”

I march to the desk and throw myself over it. Close my eyes and hold my breath.

Just get it over with.

“Your jeans, Keegan.” He sounds tired, aggravated and exhausted. “Pull your jeans down.”

Is he fucking serious?

I spring up again, but don’t turn to look at him. He’s serious. He’s fucking serious and the longer I draw this out, the worse it will be for me.

Fingers trembling, I unzip my jeans and drag them down my thighs. Then I drop over the desk again, folding my arms beneath my cheek as I turn my gaze on the wall.

Roman doesn’t say anything about pulling down my panties, but they’re G-Strings and barely there. My butt cheeks are bared, waiting, and every bone in my body trembles with dread and humiliation.

A scream tears from my throat as leather cracks on my sensitive lower cheeks with a blistering sting. Gulping in the scream along with a sobbing breath, I move my head and  latch my mouth onto my forearm. My backside tenses as I prepare myself, but nothing can prepare me for the next crack as pain sears deep into me, spreading over every inch of my throbbing butt. Another crack and I bury my scream into my arm.

Tears pour from my eyes and I’m not sure what I’m crying the most from. The pain. The abject humiliation of being disciplined with a strap. Or the loss. I can’t even say I’ve ever really
had
Roman Rocchi, but now he is finally, absolutely lost to me.

When the leather lands a fourth time, I’m no longer thinking or worrying. Sobs wretch from me and there is only red-hot coals where my butt cheeks used to be.

“I’m done.”

Roman’s voice reaches me from far away.

My butt cheeks tense as I wait, prepare, and then there isn’t another crack and his words hit my brain. He’s done.

I jolt up from the desk, shaking so hard, my vision blurred with hot tears, it takes me an age to get my jeans pulled up and zipped. The coarse material spreads the glowing pain until it feels like an army of red ants are crawling all over my butt.

Roman’s back is to me, his broad shoulders filling the cut of his suit jacket with exquisite elegance.

I stare, gritting my teeth to hold the sobs inside my chest as I wipe the tears from my eyes and pat the skin beneath. I want to run. I want to scamper out and never look on Roman’s face again, but Bold is waiting just outside the door and I refuse to walk past him with snot and tears streaming down my face.

Roman’s turns to me, cradling a glass of amber liquid in one hand.

“I hate you,” I whisper hoarsely.

And I think I actually mean it.

Yes, yes I do.

He looks at me with those shuttered stony eyes, his face a beautifully crafted statue of cold marble, but his voice is gruff and wrecks the unaffected illusion as he murmurs, “I know, Keegan.”

I sniff and spin on my heels. The sound of glass smashing follows me as I blast my way out of his study. My heart jumps into my throat, but I don’t look. I don’t want know what emotion drove him to throw his glass of whiskey against the wall.

Anger? Frustration? Regret?

I don’t care.

31

I SPEND THE day in my bedroom, lying on my stomach on the bed. My pillow is soaked from the tears that pour from my eyes. I can’t seem to stop crying. My bottom is blistered, yes, but that’s not what the tears are for. I feel broken in a way I can’t explain. Maybe when I finally stop crying, I’ll be able to think straight, but meanwhile I just lie on the bed and sob.

Bold knocks again. “Can I ask Mrs. Lowellyn to bring up a cup of tea?”

His voice is a gentle rumble that carries through the closed door.

“No,” I croak. I meant it as a shout, a screaming curse, but my throat is hoarse.

The door knob rattles. “Come on, Ms. Lynch, open for me.”

“Go away.” I fold my arms over my damp pillow and allow the sobs to choke my body. Why won’t he just leave me alone?

You must be hungry, Ms. Lynch. You should at least come down for a quick lunch.

Mrs. Lowellyn could bring up a sandwich. Would you like that?

I’m not hungry.

I don’t want tea.

I don’t want to see anyone. Roman in particular, but Bold is right below him on my list. Bold stood right outside the study door. He heard my screams. Hell, he probably heard the leather belt cracking on my backside. He could have stopped it, but he didn’t. If Roman had called him in to restrain me over his knee, I believe Bold would have done so without hesitation, without asking one damn question.

It takes most of the day, but eventually the tears stop. I lie there another hour or so, and then I’m thoroughly bored of myself, of my misery. I haul myself into the bathroom for a long, steaming hot shower. The minutes pass while I hold my face up to the pelting water, and my head slowly starts to clear.

I am so angry. Shaking mad. But I need to get over it. I need to calm myself, get through the next couple of weeks, and then I can be done with Roman and all his shit. My addiction is no longer a problem. I’m a smoker who has just been diagnosed with lung cancer. I always knew Roman was bad, bad, bad for me and I now have the proof.

Once I’m out the shower, I pick up the clothes I’d worn earlier. I hate pulling on old underwear though, and I’m frowning at the offerings when I remember this morning’s delivery. I find everything neatly stowed in the bank of wardrobes that lines one wall of the bedroom. I grab fresh underwear, but pull on my jeans and the tee and cardigan I arrived in.

I’m sitting cross-legged on the bed, contemplating my options, when Bold knocks again.

“Mr. Rocchi has requested your appearance at supper,” he calls out.

“I’m not hungry,” I shout back stubbornly.

The doorknob rattles. “Then don’t eat, but I’m bringing you down regardless.”

I roll my eyes at the locked door. “If Roman asked you to bend down and lick your butt, would you?”

He laughs, thoroughly amused at the notion.

“I’ll take that as yes,” I mutter.

The laughter stops. A hand slaps the door. Once. Hard. “You do know I can kick this door down, Ms. Lynch, and then you’ll have no privacy at all for the remainder of your stay.”

My eyes screw into the door. Would he?

Fuck!

I scramble off the bed and unlatch the door.

By the time Bold enters, I’m back on the bed, my back shoved up against the headboard, my knees pulled in tight with my arms wrapped around them.

“Thank you.” He closes the door behind him, then leans against it, arms folded, a damn grin snaking over his jaw. “Are you ready to go down?”

I glare at him. “I’ll make you a deal.”

A brow notches.

“I’ll make this easy on you, go along without a fight,” I tell him, “if you answer one question.”

He shrugs. “Depends on the question, Ms. Lynch.”

“Why are you so damn loyal to Roman?”

“Ah….” He sighs, those obsidian eyes watching me. “Maybe he’s just a man who commands loyalty.”

“Bullshit,” I snort. “What does he hold over you?”

“A pay check?”

“And Rocchi Enterprises is the only place in town hiring?”

I stick my chin up, showing I mean business. He hasn’t answered my question and now that I’ve asked, I’m no longer just trying to rib Bold into guilt for being Roman’s backup. I’m deeply curious. There’s an interesting dynamic between the two of them. The shared looks, the speaking without words. There’s definitely history there.

After a long minute of silence, that dark gaze piercing me, Bold says flatly, “Roman Rocchi saved my life. Twice.” He opens the door and waves a hand toward it. “After you, Ms. Lynch.”

“Wait! What?” I bolt off the bed, walking up to him. “He saved your life? How?”

Bold just gives me a look. “I think I’ll save something to barter with for the next round,” he drawls.

I stroll past him, out the door. “So, you’re giving me an incentive to keep on being stubborn?”

His chuckle follows in my wake.

32

BOLD DELIVERS ME into the huge conservatory instead of the dining room. The walls are sheer glass all the way around, giving the impression that I’ve stepped outside beneath a winter-crisp sky of stars.

Roman is at the drinks cabinet, looking as scrumptious as ever in all his elegant disgrace as he shakes ice cubes into a crystal tumbler.

I scowl at him. “I thought I’d been ordered down for supper.”

He gives Bold a look and my bodyguard/tormentor steps out, probably to discretely lurk behind a corner.

“And I thought you could use a drink first,” Roman says to me. He lifts a bottle from the silver bucket and raises it, sliding me a grin. “Wine?”

Something cracks in me.

A second ago, I was ready to turn tail and run. Not up to my bedroom, but to the dining room. I still have questions, Bold has answers, so I don’t want to mess up our bartering system, but our deal was dinner, not drinks by starlight.

Now, however, I’m storming deeper into the room of glass.

“I’m not going to stand around here with you, sip wine…” I slam to a halt a couple of feet from Roman, my hands fisted at my sides “…engage in idle chatter, just pretend that everything is normal!”

“No idle chatter, then,” he concedes in that gravel baritone, his gaze dropping from me as he pours a glass of wine.

“No nothing!”

He replaces the bottle in the bucket and closes the distance between us. “As undesirable as the circumstances are, Keegan, I’d like you to be comfortable while you’re here.”

I tilt my chin up to glare into his stony eyes. “It’s a little late for that, Roman.”

His expression darkens. “I won’t have you in a sulk, starving yourself or hiding in your room.”

“Or else what?” I grind out. “You’ll put me over your desk again?”

“Of course not,” he says silkily, holding up the glass of wine to me. “That’s reserved purely for when you try to run and throw yourself into danger.”

“I told you I wouldn’t run again,” I say. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he says, his gaze heating, sinking into me. “Because now we’re both a little more convinced that you mean it.”

My skin flushes beneath his stone-baked appreciation. Suddenly I’m intensely aware of his closeness, his male scent infusing me.

My eyes harden on him, but my knees have turned butter soft.

I can’t believe it.

How the hell is this happening?

Your bottom is striped with four thick welts from his leather belt
, I tell myself, apparently needing the reminder.

That’s not the first time he’s set your bums on fire,
replies a wicked voice from my past, the addiction I’ve already conquered.

I grab the glass from him, deciding alcohol is exactly what I need. Now that I’m thinking about all the things I’ve allowed Roman Rocchi to do to my body.  But there was nothing sensual about the way he tanned my backside and I didn’t give him permission. Huge difference!

My dignity has flown out the window with my freedom.

I take a deep sip of wine. I hadn’t realised how parched I was until the cool liquid hits my throat.

“Liam will be here shortly,” Roman murmurs, that sultry warmth still washing over me. “I invited him to supper.”

I retreat a step and notch my chin haughtily. “What are you now? Best buds?”

“I invited him for you, Keegan.”

“Yes, well, I’m not so sure I want to see Liam right now.”

“You’re mad at him?” Roman says, sounding convincingly surprised.

“He gave me back to you,” I retort.

“He didn’t have much of a choice.”

“So,” I spit out, “you
did
threaten him?”

“No,” Roman sighs. “Jesus, Keegan, why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

“Me?” I give a dry laugh. “You stole my belongings, impersonated me and then you flogged me.”

“Flogged you?” His mouth twitches. “I have a flogger in my bedroom I could introduce you to. Once you have the experience to make a proper comparison…” His voice deepens to a husky promise as he steps forward, his hand locking loosely around my wrist, his thumb whirling lightly “…you’ll never confuse the two again.”

“Don’t touch me!” I strain back, twisting my wrist within his grasp. His grip doesn’t tighten, but I can’t wriggle free either.

“Afraid you might enjoy it?” he says huskily.

I glare daggers into him. “Fuck you.”

A smile traces his lips and creases the corners of his eyes. “You have no idea just how much I’d love to.”

Hot shivers roll down my spine and curl into my toes. The way he’s looking at me doesn’t help. He is all heat, want, promises. Roman Rocchi isn’t only a total bastard. He is also darkly beautiful, a master in all things sinful and sexy, a little broken on the inside.

He also has impeccable control, I remember. He could be combusting with hot lust and you’d never know it,
unless he wants you to
.

My gaze narrows on him. He hasn’t made a move like this since Scotland. Why now? “Why are you seducing me?”

“Have you already forgotten how good we are together?” He leans in, all kinds of dark intent stamped in his eyes and voice. “I’m not done, Keegan. I want you in my bed, under me, screaming my name, all night long”

“Bullshit,” I say breathlessly. God, he is so damn good at this.

He tugs me closer, wedging our thighs, forcing me to tilt my head all the way back to meet his eyes. “You think I was faking it the last time I had my cock buried in you?”

Desire strips the steel from my spine. I’m folding, melting, hot beneath the skin. My freakin’ panties are damp.

“Roman, please…” I beg.

I don’t want this, even as I stand here thinking I do. I’m so confused and I can’t think, not with his scent all over me, his body touching mine, not like this.

“You’ll have to be more specific.” He lowers his head, his breath feathering my cheek. “Because right now your body is begging me for a long, hard fuck.”

My knees buckle and somehow I find the strength to not fall into him. The truth sucks, it really does. I thought it was the other way round, but this addiction has me beat. If Roman keeps this up, I will end the night in his bed, screaming his name.

I wet my lips and take a deep breath. “Please stop trying to seduce me.”

Before he has a chance to answer, a cough behind us draws his attention.

It’s Bold, and a moment later Liam walks in.

Liam’s smile flattens when he notices the intimacy of our position.

“What did you expect?” I snap at him. I rip my hand away from Roman’s grasp and this time he allows it.

I suppose Liam’s not to blame, but I’m in no mood to be reasonable. I went to all the effort of escaping because of exactly this, and Liam just gave me back.

He throws his hands up, his scowling gaze shooting to Roman.

“She’s mad at you,” Roman informs him in a lazy drawl. “But don’t worry, she’s furious with me.”

They share a look, one of those male-bonding looks that completely excludes the little female in the room. So many emotions flood me, I can barely breathe.

“I’m done,” I say coldly, starting for the door. “You two enjoy your supper.”

Roman grabs my arm, spinning me into his side, keeping me there in a vice grip. “Give us a minute,” he tells Liam.

Liam’s gaze flickers between us for a moment, then he nods. “One minute.”

My jaw sags as I watch him turn and walk out, a mini-Bold in the making. How the hell did Roman convert him so quickly, so easily? Tears spring to my eyes. Who knew I had any left?

Roman steps around to face me without relinquishing his hold on my arm. “I’ll make myself scarce, okay? You go and enjoy dinner with your friend.”

“Why do you even care?”

“I don’t like to see you hurting.”

His voice is so soft, so gentle, my vision completely blurs. But I’ve still got some fight left in me.

“You should have thought about that while you were striping my backside,” I hiss.

“I mean emotionally.”

I shake my head at him. “What did you think hurt most when you forced me to bend over your desk? My bottom or my pride? What do you think hurts when you strip me of my rights, my freedom, my
friends
, and refuse to give me proper explanations?”

“I know, baby.” He releases my arm, runs a hand through his hair as he looks into my eyes. “This is why you should spend some time with Liam. You need someone to talk to, get all this shit off your chest. Vent a bit. Tell him that I tanned your bottom.”

A grin softens his jaw. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and he’ll come looking to blacken my eye. Maybe I’ll let him.”

Now we’re getting somewhere. “Because you deserve it?” I quip.

“Because I’d do anything to make this situation more tolerable for you.”

His palm folds over the curve of my shoulder as his jaw dips, sliding his silky hair over a sculptured cheekbone and I feel the effect ripple through me.

“I can’t let you go until this is over,” he goes on, “but I will do everything, anything else.”

Oh. My. God.

“Do you honestly think good sex will make it all better? That I’ll forget why I’m so damn mad and start having fun?” I shrug my shoulder free. Curse the butterflies nesting low in my stomach. “This is why you’re so determined to seduce me!”

Roman looks at me a long moment. He doesn’t deny it. Then all he says is, “Don’t think I won’t enjoy every fucking second of it.”

I rub a hand over my eyes. “You are unbelievable.”

A chuckle rumbles his chest. “That’s another topic I’m sure you’ll get into with Liam. Don’t be stubborn here, Keegan. I don’t think another visit will be wise, so this may be your last opportunity.”

“You’re restricting his visitation rights now?”

“A necessity, I’m afraid,” he says. “The men behind your attempted kidnapping will know about Liam by now, his connection to you. They’ll be watching. He’s promised to be careful, but regular trips are too much of a risk.”

Dread strangles the last remaining butterflies. “If these men are as dangerous as you keep telling me, then Liam isn’t safe out there.”

“Liam is perfectly safe, Keegan. He’s of no use to them.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because they’re astute and they know their business and they don’t waste time on incidentals,” Roman says softly. “They know I’d never trade my life for his.”

Oh…
My heart clips. And I’m not entirely sure why. This isn’t something that takes me by surprise. Whatever else may be going on, or not, between Roman and me, there’d never be a moment, a circumstance, that I could imagine him not protecting my life above his own.