Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

AURORA

I fought to stay in the darkness. The dark was quiet, still, soulless. The light would only bring pain. With a groan, I burrowed deeper under the covers. As I shifted my knees up closer to my stomach, a dull ache between my legs had my eyes flying open.

I shut them quickly and held my breath, listening for movement.

I opened my eyes slightly and glanced around the room.

There was no sign of Roman.

Without disturbing the covers, I slid to the side of the bed, easing one leg over the side. My foot searched for the floor. His bed was so high I had to stretch my leg before my toes sank into the deep, plush wool of his Persian carpet. I shifted my hips and lowered my other foot to the floor. I then slid my body over the side until I was crouched against the side of the bed.

I stopped and listened.

Silence.

Had he just left me here?

I doubted it.

He was here. Somewhere.

I scanned the room. There was no sign of my clothes from last night. Across the room there was a closet door. Maybe I'd find something to wear in there. I still needed to figure out how I was going to escape his house with no money or phone, but first I needed clothes.

My heart beat fast in my chest as my muscles tightened.

My body jerked forward then stopped.

Fear kept me rooted in place.

I anxiously glanced around the room yet again.

There was no sign of Roman.

He was a multibillionaire super villain. The man probably got up at the crack of dawn to check the Asian markets from his secret bunker somewhere under the church cemetery. I mean seriously. What kind of man lived in an old church? What kind of man did what he did to my body last night and this morning, in a freaking church for that matter? I wasn't religious. I didn't think my mother had ever stepped foot inside of a church unless it was to show her face for some charity or society function. Yet even I couldn't shake the eerie feeling that Roman was a demon taunting God by creating a lair out of a former sacred sanctuary.

Bright sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, sending a kaleidoscope of color across the carpet and exposed polished wood floor. It was getting late in the morning. Roman would probably be up to check on me soon. I needed to act now.

Holding my breath, I bolted for the closet door.

My hand gripped the doorknob and turned. At first it resisted. My heart sank at the idea it might be locked, but finally there was a muted click. I swung the door open and slipped inside, closing the door behind me. I swept my palms over the door casing and along the wall searching for a light switch. I clicked it on and surveyed the room.

My mouth dropped open.

I was used to massive walk-in closets. My mother had had a wardrobe that would make a third-world dictator's wife jealous, but this was on another level. Dark wood paneling was covered with gold religious iconography. Heavy gilded frames with somber images of the Madonna and long-dead saints stared down at me from between racks and racks of clothes and shoes.

I inhaled deeply. The spicy musk scent of his cologne clung to the room. My fingertips grazed over one shiny brass plate. Mr. Winterbourne's Evening Attire . Each of the inlaid racks had a small brass plate, no doubt to assist his numerous staff in keeping his extensive wardrobe straight. I touched the shoulder of one of his suits. There was something so intimate about being inside his closet, touching his things. It was like touching the Shroud of Turin. Roman was like that to me, godlike. All powerful and knowing. Terrifying and yet strangely protective. I wanted to run into his arms and beg for absolution and yet at the same time, I wanted to banish him from my life forever.

He was becoming a twisted religion to me. I guessed it was fitting; after all, he'd fucked me in a church.

Amidst the rows of black, gray, and tweed at the far end of the long room were flashes of bright color. I kept my arms to my sides, careful not to disturb anything as I circled around a worn stone fountain in the center of the room. It looked like an old baptismal font. Its top had been covered in frosted glass and now displayed Roman's very expensive-looking watches.

My first instinct in seeing the feminine clothing was that Roman must have a wife or girlfriend.

My chest tightened at the betrayal. How could he? How could he say the things he'd said and done the things he'd done to me when all the while he had a wife?

My eyes scanned the clothes, searching for clues about her.

That's when I saw the brass plates.

Ms. Barlowe's Gowns.

Ms. Barlowe's Handbags.

Ms. Barlowe's Lounge Attire.

In disbelief, I looked to my right and left. There was rack after rack of clothes, shoes, purses, hats.

What?

I ran my hand over the different fabrics that hung neatly on wooden hangers. Selecting one dress, I held it up and glanced down. It was the perfect length and size. I selected another and another. They were all perfectly made for me.

What the hell was happen?—

My head flew to the right at a sharp sound. The noise was on the other side of a small door off to the right of the closet. His dressing room. It must be. I'd walked through it to get to the bathroom last night.

Roman was close by.

My hands shook as I scrambled over the numerous hangers. There were lots of elaborate designer gowns and pantsuits. I needed something quick and easy. I skittered across the floor to the shelves labeled Lounge Attire . I snagged a V-neck, pink cashmere sweater and pulled it over my head. It reached down to the tops of my thighs. I then snatched a pair of soft heather gray jogger pants and slipped them on. There was no time to worry about panties or a bra. I bent down and selected the closest pair of pink ballet slippers and clutched them against my chest, then I crept back toward the closet entrance.

I glanced over my shoulder, expecting Roman's dressing room door to swing open at any moment.

I needed to leave. Now.

I slowly turned the doorknob and cracked the door open. Peeking inside, I saw it was empty. Slipping through the door, I made a mad dash out of the bedroom. The ancient and worn stone steps were cold against my bare feet as I ran down them to the lower level. I stopped at the bottom to slip on my shoes as I got my bearings. Across the open space floor plan, I could see the large double doors that led outside. I passed a long hallway table. On it was a marble bowl with a set of car keys. Without thinking twice, I grabbed the keys. It wasn't stealing if I planned to return it. Besides, I was under suspicion for murdering my parents, what was a little car theft?

"Aurora!"

Without daring to turn around, I bolted for the exit. I crossed to the double doors and wrapped my hand around the twisted wrought-iron handle and pulled. Nothing happened. I closed both hands around the handle and pulled harder. The door didn't budge. Breathing heavily, my gaze swept over the door, searching for a lock. That's when I saw Roman's strong masculine hand splayed against it.

I turned, pressing my back against the door.

His wet raven black hair curled at the ends and framed his forehead as he scowled down at me. "Where do you think you're going?"

I turned my head away. My palm was sweaty as I continued to grip the wrought-iron handle. "I'm going home."

"No."

"You can't hold me prisoner here!"

His eyes narrowed. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

I faltered. "Aren't you?"

He shoved away from the door. Reaching over my head, he slid the iron bolt back and wrenched the doors open. Sweeping his arm wide, he shouted, "Go. Leave. Take the car. Keep it. I don't give a damn."

It had started to drizzle. The flagstone walkway leading to the drive was slick and wet. In the distance I could see the Thames flowing along in its ancient somber path. Despite the glimmer of sunshine through the gray clouds, there was an air of sorrow.

I tapped the rapid beat of Maurice Ravel's 'Bolero' against my thigh with my fingertips as I tried to get my numb brain to make a decision.

Is Roman a friend or foe?

Enemy or lover?

I shook my head as I took a hesitant step over the threshold. "You're just trying to trick me."

"I have been nothing but absolutely honest with you since the moment we met."

I turned sharply to face him.

Roman stepped close and cupped my jaw with his hands. He tilted my head back to force me to stare into his dark, gleaming eyes. "I have never lied to you, Aurora. Not once."

I opened my mouth to object.

He stepped forward, pushing my back against the open door. "I don't deny that I'm a cold-hearted bastard. I won't even deny that I took advantage of your stepfather's larceny to get close to you. But I have never hidden my intentions from you. I have been brutally honest from the very beginning about what I wanted from you."

I wrapped my fingers around his wrists as I tried to lower my face. His strong grip wouldn't let me. "Yes. You said you wanted it all. Everything from me."

He stared down at me. "That hasn't changed."

No. I wasn't going to let him suck me into his web of deception. I broke free and circled back to face him. "What about the gun?"

He stalked toward me. "What gun?"

I backed up several steps until I was once again inside the vast stone entranceway. "The gun you tried to give to me in your office. The police have it now. They said it was the gun used to kill my parents. How do they have your gun, Roman? How did Alfred have it?"

He stretched his arm out and opened a drawer inside the long hallway table. He pulled out an identical handgun. He held it out toward me on his open palm. "You mean this gun?"

I frowned. "I don't understand. Is that the gun from your office?"

He shook his head. "No, but that's my point. It's a common handgun, Aurora. Your stepfather more than likely had a similar one."

I ran my hand through my tangled hair. "They said it has my fingerprints on it. That can't be. I didn't even know he owned one. I mean who owns a fucking gun in Britain?" I gestured widely at Roman. "Except for you, of course, but then you have a small army of men with weapons."

Roman shook his head. "They were lying to you, baby girl. They were just trying to get you to confess. It's what the police do."

"I didn't kill my mother and Alfred, Roman. You have to believe me!"

Before I could react, he wrapped his strong hand around my wrist and pulled, crushing me against his chest. His arms enclosed me. He still held the gun pressed against the middle of my back. "I believe you, baby. I believe you. It's why I'm protecting you from the police."

His embrace was both threatening and comforting, just like Roman himself.

My voice was muffled against his shirt. "What do you mean?"

He stroked my hair. I could feel the vibrations of his chuckle deep inside his chest against my cheek. "You think they let just anyone waltz into a police station and leave with their prime suspect to a double murder?"

I leaned back to stare up at him. He may have showered and dressed but my hasty exit must have interrupted him before he had a chance to shave. Dark stubble wrapped around his jaw and neck. "I don't… I don't… know."

He kissed my forehead. "Trust me. They don't. The moment I learned what happened I raced to the station to get to you. One perk of having ridiculous amounts of money is I have entire solicitor firms at my beck and call at all hours of the day and night. I threatened the police with a messy public lawsuit if they didn't release you into my care."

"You did that for me?"

He placed a chaste kiss against my lips. I could smell hints of coffee on his breath. "I'd do anything for you." He stroked my hair again with his free hand. "It's going to be brutal the next few days, especially once the press finds out. How about you let me take you away? My brother owns an island in the middle of nowhere. No one would find you there."

Running away and escaping this whole mess was tempting but I couldn't. I shook my head. "I have to plan their funerals. I still have school. Besides, I don't want the police to think I'm guilty. Won't they if I try to leave the country?"

His eyes narrowed. He tightened his arms around me. I winced as the sharp metal edge of the gun pressed deeper into my back. I held my breath, worried I had angered him by saying no. After several tense moments, he smiled. "You're right. We'll stay and fight this. Together. I don't want you to worry about the police. My solicitors will handle everything."

I nodded. I had no intention of using his solicitors. I was pretty sure my mother and Alfred had their own solicitors I could contact. "I should get home. I'm sure there are people I need to call." Which reminded me. "You don't have my phone by any chance, do you?"

He reached into his dark gray trousers and pulled out my phone. "I was going to give it to you over breakfast. You left it in my office."

The screen was unlocked.

I glanced up at him through my lashes. "Thank you," I whispered. I flipped through the open pages, trying to figure out if Roman had been searching for something on my phone. Thank God I hadn't texted Eleanor about him.

There were hundreds of missed phone calls, texts, and emails. An email from my school caught my attention. I opened it and read.

"What is it?" asked Roman.

"It's an email from Mrs. Salisbury. They don't want me returning to school. She says the unsavory news about my parents' death and my possible involvement would ruin the school's reputation."

I guessed you could do that sort of thing when you were a prestigious private school. It was just as well. There was no money to pay the final tuition expenses. At least I would have my certificate and time to maybe get a job and earn some money before university. That is, if I was still going.

Roman scowled. "Do you want me to handle this? I'm on the board. One phone call from me, and?—"

"No," I stated abruptly. "Thank you, but no. It's probably for the best. At least she'll still let me officially graduate. If I'm lucky, news of my parents' death won't reach Paris."

"Are you hungry? How about some breakfast?"

"I'd rather just go home, if that's okay with you."

"It's not."

My heart stopped. My knuckles turned white as I gripped my phone.

Before I could respond, he continued, "But I'll take you home anyway."

I let out the breath I had been holding. My head spun with the dizzying rush of air. Yet it still felt as if my lungs were screaming for oxygen. I lifted my hand to my throat. It felt like there was a noose tightening around my neck.

Roman placed the gun back in the drawer. He pulled me to his side and wrapped his arm around my lower back. "I don't want you to worry about a thing, kitten. You've got me. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Goosebumps rose on my arms. I wanted to believe him, wanted desperately to sink into the comforting protection of his arms and forget everything, but something wasn't quite right.