Ashley's POV:
Warmth was the first thing I felt.
Not the soft kind that drifts through blankets.Not the weak, fading kind that comes from a dying fire.No—this was alive warmth.A pulse.A presence.A whole body curved around mine like it had been sculpted to fit there.
For a moment, I didn't open my eyes.My brain floated somewhere between sleep and consciousness—the fragile space where pain doesn't exist yet, and memories stay politely quiet.
And in that tiny gap of peace, I just… felt.
Roman's arm wrapped across my waist, heavy but gentle.His hand splayed over my stomach like he had the right to anchor me.His chest pressed into my back, a steady, slow rise and fall, each breath warming the hollow beneath my ear.My legs tangled with his in a way that felt sinfully natural.
My body relaxed without my permission—like some traitorous part of me had been waiting for this exact shape, this exact heat.
I breathed in.His scent—clean, expensive, grounding—slid into my lungs like comfort I didn't ask for.
God help me… it felt good.Really good.
My muscles unclenched one by one.My heartbeat slowed.The panic that usually sat under my skin like a splinter… faded.
I felt safe.Safer than I had felt in weeks.
A quiet, shameful sigh slipped out before I could trap it.
His grip tightened reflexively—not forceful, just instinctive, protective.The kind of embrace couples fall asleep in.The kind that feels like home.
Home.
The word punched me in the throat.
My eyes snapped open.
Memory slammed in behind it—not like waves, but a flood beating down a door:
My father's broken fingers.Roman's hand twisted in my hair.The blood.The threats.The humiliation.The cage disguised as tenderness.
Every soft thing about him turned sharp inside my chest.
My stomach dropped. Ice replaced warmth.My breath hitched—so loud in the quiet it felt like a scream.
What was I DOING?What was I LETTING happen?Why did my body betray me with softness when my mind knew only terror?
I had melted.I had liked it.
And that was unacceptable.
I jerked away.Hard.Too fast. Like touching him had burned me.
The sudden movement ripped his arm from my waist.It thudded onto the mattress, heavy, like guilt hitting me instead.
Roman stirred behind me.
"Sunbeam…?"His voice was low, sleep-rough, soft in a way it never was when fully awake.
I froze against the far edge of the bed, pulling the blanket around me like a shield.My heart hammered so loud I was sure he could hear it.
Roman blinked awake slowly.His hair was messy, falling onto his forehead.His eyes, heavy-lidded and warm, were soft but confused—like he'd woken into a morning that should have been gentle.
Confusion softened into concern.Actual concern.
"Ashley… what's wrong?"
A storm of emotions churned inside me—shame, fury, fear, longing, all fighting for space.
What's wrong?He was wrong.Everything about him was wrong.Everything he did to me.Everything he took.
But the words got stuck in my throat, strangled by the echo of how good it had felt to sleep in his arms.
"I'm fine."
Lie.Cowardly lie.
He sat up slowly—as if sudden movement might scare me more.He reached for me, fingers lifting to brush my cheek—
I flinched before he touched me.
Not because I expected pain.But because… the gentleness hurt worse.
His hand paused mid-air, trembling slightly before he lowered it.The wounded look on his face felt like another crack in my ribs.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly.
No. Not physically.But everything else?He had already shattered me.
I pulled my knees to my chest, tightening the blanket around me, building a wall out of cotton and silence.I could still feel the warmth of where his arm had been.It made my skin crawl.
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I spent the day locked in that silent, rigid space, refusing food, refusing communication.
I'd stayed in his room all day, staring at the same cracked ceiling tiles for hours, tracing their fissures as if memorizing each line could anchor me.I didn't eat the sandwich Mary had brought.I scribbled half-formed thoughts into a notebook and then tore the pages out, crumpling them into tight little balls of useless words.I paced. I stared. I became a statue of pure refusal, my only companion the relentless tick of the wall clock.
It was late, nearing midnight, when Roman returned.His footsteps echoed quietly but deliberately.He shed his heavy suit jacket by the door, shoulders heavy with exhaustion.Messy-tired. Dark stubble outlining the ruthless angles of his jaw.He stopped, letting the silence stretch like a living thing.
His eyes found me, propped against the pillows with a book I wasn't reading.The letters blurred.
"Still up, Sunbeam?" His voice was low, cautious, almost gentle.
I turned a page slowly, deliberately, ignoring him.
I won't let you in, my internal monologue screamed.I won't let you see the fire. If I show him anger, he'll get even more obsessed. I won't let him consume me. My coldness is my shield, my only act of self-preservation.
He exhaled heavily and walked to the adjoining bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him.The shower roared to life, the sound of rushing water filling the room.Domestic. Normal. It frayed my nerves worse than any threat.Why is he trying to make normalcy out of this madness?
When he emerged a few minutes later, the air felt charged.Clean, his hair damp, the heat clinging to his skin.Fresh cotton shirt, soft trousers.Deceptively younger. Less lethal.A beautiful monster wearing human clothes.
I focused on my book again. Well… I tried.
He walked to the bed. Without a word, he removed the book from my hands, placing it precisely on the nightstand.I stared at the empty spot, maintaining my ice-cold silence.
Before I could scramble away, he lifted me effortlessly into a bridal carry.My breath hitched.My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.I wanted to pull away, but his strength was terrifying—and comforting—all at once.
"What are you doing?" I whispered, panicked.
"Taking you to eat," he replied calmly. "You will not starve on my watch."
He carried me to the massive, quiet kitchen, placing me gently on a high stool. His hands lingered on my hips, steadying me, his eyes demanding compliance.After a moment, he sighed, a deep, quiet exhale. Determined. Disapproving. I couldn't read it.
He pulled out ingredients and moved with the grace of a man who expected no one to care for him—but now, for me, he did."I learned to cook quickly when I was young," he said conversationally, a quiet distraction. "Nobody cared if I ate, but now that you are here… I want you to care, Sunbeam."
Caring? I won't let him inside that room. Why is he doing this?
I sat frozen, watching the monster perform a domestic, husbandly task.My silence was my weapon—but with each perfect fold of pasta, the weapon dulled.
He placed the plate in front of me—perfectly cooked, savory, steaming.He fed me bite by bite, eyes attentive.
The taste… oh god. The pasta was so good. I barely restrained a sound of relief.
"The Japanese acquisition went through today," he murmured. "We had to pull a lot of levers in Tokyo to manage the fallout. Nothing the news will report, just minor tremors in the markets."
He continued talking—bloodshed, billions, rival CEOs—but it was background noise. I didn't hear a word.I was lost in him.Why is he doing this? Why me? I've spent all day ignoring him, resisting. Does he… like me? Or is it obsession?
When the plate was empty, he cleared the dishes and returned. His eyes sought mine, searching for surrender.
I found my voice, hoarse and fragile. "Why?"
He stopped. "Why what, Sunbeam?"
"Why… why are you doing this?" I forced the words out, staring at the gold band on his finger."I ignored you all day. All I do is fight you. Why… why are you still kind?"
He walked around the counter and stood between my knees.Gripping my jaw gently, he tilted my face up.His grey eyes consumed me, seeing every crack, every splinter.He lowered his head, lips brushing my forehead—intimate, overwhelming.
"Because, Sunbeam," he whispered, voice heavy with conviction, "this is what love is."
Love? Or obsession? I couldn't tell.I only knew my heart couldn't resist him anymore—even when my mind screamed it should.
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Author's Note:
Ah, dear reader… welcome to the chaos. 😈
If you're here for sunshine and rainbows, turn back now. 🌧️
This chapter? It's was rollercoaster through obsession, fear, and… let's be honest, unhealthy comfort food. 🍝💀
Roman's a terrifying blend of monster and husband material—basically your dream nightmare.
Ashley's internal screaming while secretly melting? Yeah, relatable. 🤯 Remember, consent is complicated here, tension is high, and your heart may spontaneously combust. 🔥
Read responsibly.
Or don't.
Honestly, I'd probably do the same. 😏
Buckle up. There's more chaos ahead. 🩸✨
-Vaanni 🖤