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Opposite the bed stands a closet filled almost entirely with black suits, shirts, neatly folded workout clothes, and rows of identical black ties.

Everything is meticulously organized. This is where he has been staying. The realization leaves an ache in my chest I wasn’t expecting.

My eyes continue wandering around the room until they land on something that makes my breath catch.

Hanging on the wall above the bed is one of my old paintings from university. The Drowning King. The same piece I sold two years ago at a charity exhibition. I freeze, staring at it in complete disbelief.

Slowly, I walk closer, my eyes tracing every familiar brushstroke. It’s unmistakably mine. Why is it here? How long has he had it? Did he buy it himself? Or did someone gift it to him? Does he know it's my painting? Have Roman and I met in the past?

Before I can examine it any longer, I hear the sound of the door opening. My heart lurches into my throat. Roman is here.

I quickly press myself behind the partially open door, praying he won’t come in here. From this angle, I can still see most of the main space through the narrow gap.

Roman walks in, still dressed in his office clothes. He came straight from work. He begins stripping, jacket, shirt, trousers, until he’s left in only his briefs. I watch, heart pounding, as he stands there in nothing but his briefs.

He does some stretching, and then moves to the heavy bag and attacks it with brutal intensity, like it offended him.

The Roman I’m watching right now is different from the one I’ve seen in the rest of the house. There’s no careful mask, just raw, focused force. I can’t look away. I’m completely enthralled by the sight of him.

When he’s finally finished working out, sweat glistening on his body, he walks over to the ice bath. He fills it from a built-in ice machine until the surface is crowded with chunks of ice, then strips out of his briefs, climbs in, and submerges himself up to his neck. The sight makes me wince. Certainly that can't be comfortable.

He stays there for several long minutes, eyes closed. It looks like he might have fallen asleep in the freezing water.

This is my chance. I need to leave before he wakes up and finds me here. I carefully step out from behind the door and tiptoe toward the exit, moving as quietly as I can.

I’m almost at the door, fingers reaching for the handle, when a low, rough voice growls my name from behind me.

“Aurora.”

I freeze.

“And where do you think you're going?”

I turn around slowly to find Roman standing there, completely naked, water dripping from his body. I never heard him leave the ice bath.

He’s staring straight at me, and now I have to explain what the hell I’m doing in the one place he specifically ordered the staff to keep me away from.

Chapter 17

Roman

I don’t know what to do with my curious little wife.

The second I stepped into the room, I knew someone had been inside. The lock I was certain I had secured earlier was no longer engaged. Then I spotted her trying to hide behind the door of the bedroom.

I pretended not to notice. I wanted to see what she would do, how long she would watch, and what she thought she was accomplishing by sneaking in here.

How she got past the lock is another matter entirely. One I will get answers for.

Now she’s standing in front of me, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, clearly terrified of whatever consequence she thinks is coming.

“What are you doing here?”

She starts stuttering, words tumbling over each other. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to intrude. I just… I saw you come in here and I wondered what was behind the door. I was only curious. I’m sorry.”

I reach for a towel and wrap it around my waist, never taking my eyes off her.

“Curious, huh?” I say quietly.