Page 5 of Uprising

With the life every person wishes they had.

The journalists practically fan girl when they meet me. I know I’m a big name, I know I should be used to it after the way everyone at the Clubhouse used to act but it grates worse than ever.

Darius of course laps it up.

He gives a great spiel about how he knew Paris was physically abusive and that he’d tried to step in, to protect me, and then when Paris had died, how he’d comforted me, made sure I was okay. And all the while he’s smiling at me, putting on that charm offensive that he does so well.

If I didn’t know what he was really like, I’d believe every word.

They ask questions, probing questions. I let Darius take the lead but I’m also sure to add my own parts, to look as if this is everything I’ve ever wanted because I’m not stupid enough to risk anything right now.

Not when he essentially has a gun pointed at my daughter’s head.

“Let’s take some photos.” The journalist says.

Darius nods. “How would you like us?”

“Natural.” She replies. “Our readers want to see the real couple. Just pretend we’re not here and we’ll snap away.”

I meet Darius’s gaze. We both know we can’t do that.

But I can see the way his eyes glint, the way his lips curl, that this amuses him. I wonder if that’s why he keeps this up, keeps the articles and magazines and all of it. Because it’s just another form of torment for me. Just another way to prove that I am powerless. Helpless. Completely and utterly at his mercy.

He leans in, his hand cups my cheek and it’s so hard not to flinch, not to recoil from his rancid touch.

“I love you Rose.” He says.

Only the words sound wrong. The way he says it sounds wrong too. He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t love anything about what makes meme. He’s locked me in a cage, trapped me in his web.

I’m a thing to own.

A possession he’s laid claim to.

I might as well be a jewel locked up in his safe.

And we both know he would rather see me dead than free of him.

“I love you too.” I reply, keeping that gaze, playing the part and all the while I’m imagining it’s someone else’s face.

The man worthy of my love.

The man Darius murdered in order to get me.

Rose

His hand cups my face.

I can feel the warmth of it against my skin.

I lean into kiss him and he lets out a soft groan as he deepens it.

“Rose.” He murmurs.

I nuzzle into him, push my body on top of his, feeling how hard he is beneath me.

The covers are up over our head. It’s hot underneath them but I’m not complaining because I’m surrounded by his smell, practically engulfed in it.

“Roman.” I murmur.

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