Page 30 of Born Chaos

Am I the woman who stays with a man who controls her?

I love Sebastian.

I love him so damn much.

But what he’s done…

My breathing picks up, pulling in and out of my chest harder, faster.

And adrenaline blazes through my entire body when the door squeals and swings open.

In steps Roman.

His vivid blue eyes lock on me instantly. They narrow, searching dark and deep.

“What did he do?” Roman growls.

Tears spring in my eyes. I feel like I can’t breathe. My entire body feels like it’s slowly hardening into concrete.

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes closed. I don’t remove my hand from my mouth. I can barely do anything at all, or I feel like I’m going to completely shatter.

“Juliet,” Roman says, his voice soft but dangerous. “Something isn’t right.”

Something?Nothing.Nothing is right. The whole damn world is crumbling and it’s taking me down with it.

Two tears push their way out onto my cheeks.

“Do you need out?” Roman asks, and I’ve never heard so much conviction in his tone.

I can’t speak. My entire body starts shaking so violently, I’m sure I’m cracking, splintering.

Breathe,my lungs scream, even though they don’t actually need the oxygen.Breathe.

But I can’t.

I can’t.

“Come on,” Roman says softly. And I feel the warmth of his hand at my lower back. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“I can’t,” I finally find words. I shake my head. “Sebastian won’t—”

“I’ll deal with Sebastian,” Roman glowers. And embers swirl in those blue eyes.

I’m not brave right now. I’m scared. I’m unanchored. But at the confidence, the danger in Roman’s eyes, I find just enough bravery to set one foot in front of the other.

Roman keeps that hand at my lower back, barely touching me. Enough to keep propelling me forward. Faster, quicker, we walk at a short quip down the hall, back toward the entrance. We don’t look at anyone, we don’t speak to anyone as we cut through the lobby. And then we step out into the cold, dark night.

There’s a line of cars waiting at the valet. There’s Sebastian’s flashy sports car. But parked five cars ahead of it, is Roman’s familiar black SUV. Roman unlocks it and opens the passenger door for me. Still shaking, I climb into it.

“I’ll be right back,” Roman says darkly, and before I can protest or express my complete terror over him walking back inside, he closes my door, and I watch him walk right back into the hotel.

Numb. I accept it. I invite it. I need numbness just to get me through the next little while. It’s the only way I’ll survive this.

So I stare at the doors to the hotel, and I become numb.

One minute goes by. Two. Four.

Five minutes and nineteen seconds since he walked back inside, Roman De Luca walks back out through those hotel doors. He looks like he’s in one piece. His face isn’t broken up. His black clothes don’t look rumpled.

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