Page 37 of Stolen By the Don

With a choked gasp and every muscle tensing as the orgasm rips through me, I climax, hot and hard and endless. I shatter around him, crying out his name, legs falling on the bed.

Roman groans, head falling to my neck as he keeps moving, pushing me through the aftershocks until I black out beneath him.

11

ROMAN

I tear my eyes away, anger blooming in my chest as I walk to my closet, leaving Isabella sleeping on my bed. I grab a shirt, buttoning it hurriedly before tossing a jacket on.

When I walk out, the covers have slipped lower, and she’s naked from her waist up. Her breasts bounce gently as her chest rises while she sleeps on. My gaze drinks in her soft features—hair spread out on the pillow, half-parted lips, and the fading bruises on her neck and chest.

She looks peaceful. Almost innocent.Yet, lust rises inside me gleefully as blood rushes from my head to my pants. I tug on my buckle, exhaling quietly as my dick gets hard again.

Having sex with Isabella last night wasn’t part of the plan.

When I got the call from Polina that Isabella was nowhere to be found, I panicked. My first thought wasn’t that she’d escaped. No, I assumed the worst—that someone had taken her. That she’d been kidnapped right under my fucking watch.

It would’ve made more sense.

But I clearly underestimated her.

That became obvious the second I pulled up the external feed—the one she doesn’t know about. The figure in overalls was unmistakable.

No amount of dirt or disguise could hide the sharp defiance in her stride or the sway of those hips I’d already memorized. She thought she was clever. She wasn’t.

Not to me.

The moment I realized it was her, I didn’t waste a second. I drove straight to the farm, rage curling in my chest like smoke in a closed room. She’d put herself at risk. She’d walked out into a world that wouldn’t think twice about tearing her apart, all because she thought she could run from me.

Foolish.

While I drove, I thought about all the ways I’d keep her from trying this again. I’d lock every exit, place someone at her door, and install cameras inside and out if I had to. Whether she liked it or not, she belonged to me.

But then I saw her.

Curled under a leaking shelter, soaked through and shaking violently… It made something twist low in my gut. Her skin was pale, her lips blue, and her fingers curled in on themselves as if her body was too frozen to fight anymore.

And just like that, the fury fell away.

Without thinking or planning, I was on my knees, gathering her in my arms. She didn’t fight—not really. There was no fight inher punches, and I cared more about getting her warm than anything else.

Her body felt small and fragile against mine, limp with cold and exhaustion. Her breath came in uneven little bursts, and when her head lolled against my shoulder, I wanted to hold her in my arms and not let go.

I didn’t care about the cameras. Or the guards. Or the damn plan. Because despite everything, I couldn’t fight the desire to protect her.

So when she stood in front of me, her towel on the floor, I wasn’t thinking about sex. When she asked me why I brought her to the bathroom, it wasn’t to claim her as mine…physically.

Entertaining that thought—that Isabella means more to me—was fine last night. I allowed myself to feel for her more than I was supposed to.

Not anymore.

It was a one-time fluke that’ll never happen again.

And my plan? It’s back in motion. If she was ready to escape, despite my threats, it means she had a plan. If that plan involved contacting Marco Ricci, I intend to get every detail from her, no matter the means.

With one last glance and desire rising its tempting head, I stride out of my bedroom, closing the door behind me.

I meet Polina in the hallway. Her eyes are filled with questions and concerns. She, too, was worried that something might have happened to Isabella.

---