Page 43 of Ruthless Reign

Standing under the scalding water with Roman, I could have dropped to my knees and begged him to marry me again. He was so sweet, so tender and caring. I didn’t deserve him, not one bit.And I cut off that line of thinking with a harsh smack to reality. We had a bloody, violent history between us, and thoughts like that were dangerous. Those types of emotions made me vulnerable. Falling for him, letting this be real, it made me weak. After Hugo, I swore I’d never be like that again. I’d been cursed with my family, and there would never be an escape, not while Gabriella still lived.

“Do some research,” he said. “My sister’s website is a good place to start. She’s got lots of videos explaining what kink is and what a healthy lifestyle looks like. Then, we can have that conversation.”

“Thank you, Roman,” I said, too emotional to meet his gaze. “Thank you for all of this.”

He touched my chin and forced my eyes to meet his again. “Hey, we’re in this together, right? We might as well make the most of it.”

I nodded and pushed up on my toes to kiss him before grabbing the washcloth to suds it up and rub circles over his muscular frame. We joked and teased for the rest of the shower while we took turns soaping each other thoroughly. We talked about our families and what it was like growing up in our respective clubs, and not once did we mention our arrangement or how this was supposed to be pretend. And when he made me laugh again, I decided I liked Roman Montgomery perhaps a tad too much.

“Stay with me tonight,” he said, shutting off the water when we were done.

“What?” I didn’t believe he’d meant it.

“In my room. In my bed. Stay with me.” Roman wrapped a towel around my shoulders and handed me another one for my hair before reaching for his own, circling it around his waist.

I paused, unsure of what to say. I’d grown used to sleeping on my own, but I could admit I didn’t particularly like waking up in a cold sweat, terrified my aunt or her goons were after me again.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said. “It’s purely selfish. I don’t want to have to walk across the hall to wake you up when you have another nightmare, as much as I like a knife to the jugular.”

I rolled my eyes and shoved at his shoulder, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer to him, leaning down so our foreheads touched. “Come on. Let’s pretend, just a little longer.”

I took a deep breath and sighed, telling my poor, pathetic heart not to read too much into this. It was fake, just practice for our show in front of his family. But I wanted to give in. For now, I wanted to pretend.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll sleep here. Just let me go get my clothes.”

“No need.” He grinned that beautiful boy-next-door smile and headed back toward his bedroom, opening a dresser drawer to toss me a white T-shirt. It smelled like detergent and him,and my heart fluttered when I lifted it over my head. Now completely consumed by him, inside and out, I’d never felt more claimed.

Julia Montgomery, indeed.

“I like you in my clothes,” he said as he climbed into bed, shoving his long legs under the covers.

“Yeah?” I walked around to the other side and scooted in next to him.

“Yeah,” he said. “It makes me feel like you’re mine.”

“Hmm.” I smiled as he turned off the bedside light, bathing us in the faint moonlight trickling in through the curtains. “If we’re still pretending, then I am yours.”

“What if—” His voice came soft and slow, almost innocent in its quiet demeanor. “What if I wanted you to be mine for real? What if I didn’t want to pretend anymore?”

I took a deep breath and let it go on a slow exhale as my stomach dropped. Maybe I’d been thinking the same thing. Maybe I didn’t want to pretend anymore, either. But he’d killed my family. My family had killed his. We could never—would never—be anything more.

Shoving that down, I snuggled closer to him and rested my head on his chest, relishing the feeling of his fingers tangling in my wet hair.

“We have the rest of our lives to figure it out,” I said.

He seemed to like that answer, and I fell asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat. And when my dreams came that night, they were of dark brown eyes and soft curly hair and tattooed fingers around my throat in a dominant caress.

12

JULIA

The next few days went the same way. We woke up. We ate breakfast together before he went to work. I spent the day planning an extravagant wedding and planting seeds with the Caputi family. There was so much to do: finding a wedding dress and figuring out a venue. I wanted it to be somewhere that made sense for the Roses so that it wouldn’t look too much like a trap, but a place that wouldn’t draw attention in case things turned bloody. Roman had mentioned something about the MC owning a farm just outside of town. That would probably be the best spot.

Despite my plans, I still had to keep up the pretense of being Roman’s loving wife. If there was a meeting at the clubhouse, he took me. Every night when he came home, we ate dinner together like a real couple before he ordered me to take off my clothes so he could fuck me within an inch of my life. We hadn’t continued our discussion about a more negotiated dynamic, but I did do the research he asked me to complete.

Most of what I found on V’s website and other various educational websites sent a jolt of heat through the center of my body and in between my legs. My hands clenched into fists withdiscussions of impact-play and orgasm denial. I wanted to be what Roman called me—his princess, his toy, his Caputi whore.

Then, I went to the list he’d given me and marked each item, investigating any terms I wasn’t familiar with. Anal sex, cock warming, impact, throat fucking, knife-play, it went on and on. I wanted to try most of it. I wasn’t into needles or excrement, but I had a feeling Roman wouldn’t be either. For the rest of it, I marked either yes or maybe.

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