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When we finally step outside and the cool air caresses my heated skin, I sigh, thankful to just be out of that insane asylum. All I want is to go back to Roman’s house and forget about tonight, forget about the things Roman said. A second later, he opens a car door and deposits me in the backseat.
I barely pull my feet inside before he slams the door shut.
“You okay?” Mac asks me from the driver’s seat. There’s a look of concern in his soft eyes, and the tense body language he’s giving off confirms his worry further. I wonder if this is common behavior for Roman or if he’s just being this way with me.
“Yes,” I whisper, hating the way my voice sounds.
Roman gets into the passenger side with a grunt and slams the door just as hard as he did mine. The air in the car is so thick, it could be cut with a knife.
Mac pulls out of the parking lot, and no one dares to say a word the entire drive back to Roman’s house.
When we get to the house, there are two cars I don’t recognize parked in the driveway. The guys don’t seem alarmed by them being there, so I just get out of the car and follow them into the house.
“Go to your room, lock the door, and stay the fuck in there for the rest for of the night,” Roman orders without even looking at me. I watch him walk in the direction of the living room, having half the mind to tell him to fuck off and follow him. But I’m not that stupid. There’s clearly something going on with him today, and even though I don’t understand what it is, I don’t want to push him. Instead, I head to my bedroom without any further questions.
“Seriously, Roman,” Mac grumbles behind me. I do as instructed and walk into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind me. I strip out of my clothes and go straight into the shower. I want to wash everything off me—all the smells of that awful place clinging to my skin like gooey tar.
I turn the water on, twist the knob to hot, then step into the spray and melt beneath the nearly boiling water. The tension seeps out of my muscles. I stand there for a long while, letting the water beat against my back before I reach for the bar of soap. I scrub myself from head to toe and wash my hair, massaging my scalp with my fingers.
I can’t stop thinking about the things Roman said. About how I wanted him even when he was being an asshole…about how he said his brother should’ve just sent me back whenever I came from.
The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I escaped a life ruled by my angry father, following his strict rules, only to be thrust into another dark world. I may not be completely caged, but I’m still being ordered around. I don’t want that kind of life. I don’t want to be controlled by a man.
Rinsing my hair, I decide I need to do what I want to do. Roman can order me around all he wants, but he doesn’t own me. He doesn’t control my future.
I get out of the shower and dry off, looking at my reflection in the mirror. My cheek is bruised from the left corner of my lip up toward my eye. It looks horrible and hurts like hell, but soon, it will be nothing more than another scar and memory.
I go back into my room and pull out the first outfit I find from the dresser. After I’m dressed, I contemplate what to do next. I’m not ready to go out and face anybody yet, especially Roman. I throw myself onto the bed and curl up in a ball, trying to forget the events of this entire day. Unfortunately, it’s hard to clear my mind with loud music booming through the normally quiet house. My walls vibrate as the rap music pulses through me, like I’m standing right next to the damn speaker.
I rub at my temples. This is a much different problem than I’m used to having. Usually I’m all alone, the silence surrounding me, but tonight, there is no silence inside my head, nor in this house.
Stepping out of my room, I march through the house on a mission…even though I’m not sure what that mission is yet. I follow the sounds of the music underlined with talking and laughing. The noises get louder as I move farther down the hall. Knowing they are having a party right now infuriates me beyond measure.
How dare they celebrate Roman killing a man.
My fists are clenched and my jaw is tight when I enter the large living space people have gathered in. My eyes scan the crowd of maybe fifty, but I don’t see Roman or Mac. I do, however, spot Devin, his mouth attached to some busty blonde sitting on his lap. I almost turn around and run back to my room when some random guy appears next to me. I look him up and down. He’s handsome, but simple looking, nothing like Roman.
