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With the self-reminder that he was actually my kidnapper and not partner material, I felt my smile falter and my laughter fade. What kind of love story started like that?
Love story?
I realized my thoughts scared the ever-loving shit out of me.
ALEXIE
Alexie
There was a ball sitting in the middle of my chest that I couldn’t explain. Everything with Sloane was going great. The plan had been a little derailed in the beginning with her trying to run off, but now she was meeting me halfway.
But I wanted more. I wanted her devotion. I wanted her to crave me more than the air she was breathing. That she didn’t have the same obsession with me that I had with her drove me fucking insane.
It felt like Sloane wasn’t completely mine yet.
I felt this dark need to make her submit to me even though she wasn’t necessarily rebelling against me. She was not doing anything wrong, but I couldn’t stop my swirling thoughts in my head. So I left Sloane lying peacefully in bed and departed the room before I dragged her out of it, forced her on her knees, and demanded that she love me the way I needed her to love me.
Downstairs, Roman sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. He shot me a questioning glance when he didn’t see Sloane in my arms.
I sighed. Every morning I carried her down, usually with her protesting and pouting about how she could walk, and we’d eat together. Afterwards, she’d retreat to her bedroom or go to the library to read a book. On the days she read, I got a little work done.
Disturbingly, Roger had gone silent.
Now, I didn’t know if I could trust him or not.
“Where’s your wifey?” Roman asked.
I paused and stared at him. “What did you just say?” I cleared my throat, not meaning for that to come out so rough.
He gulped, probably thinking that he made some kind of mistake, but like a man, he straightened up in his seat. “I just meant you carry that woman everywhere, and it was odd not seeing her in your arms. That’s all.”
I shook my head. “Not that. What did you call her?”
He cleared his throat, his cheeks going pink. “Wifey?”
“Yeah,” I said, more to myself than him. This was it. What I’d been missing. It felt like something in my chest unlocked.
Practically ignoring him, I sank into a chair and whipped out my phone.
Roman cleared his throat, leaning over to look at my screen. “What are you doing, boss?”
“Kid, you’re a genius,” I praised.
“Me? What did I do?” He looked confused.
“You told me to marry her. That’s the best idea you’ve had yet.”
“Wait, no. That’s not what I said. I was just joking,” Roman tried to back pedal.
“We both know you’d love it if I married Sloane. I can see how fond you are of her. Hey, I could even adopt you. Legally. A true adoption that would hold up in legal matters, like inheritance.”
“Adopt me!” Roman leaned away from me like I had a disease.
I nodded. Why was he so shocked by this turn of events? “Yeah, it would make life easier. No one would question who you are to me, and the best part is that no one would try to take you away and put you into foster care. What do you think about the name Roman Petrov?”
“You don’t have to do that, boss. We already have the fake birth certificate and passport. That’s enough.”
But my mind was focused on this family image building in my head. An adopted older son, an heir to my throne, and a sexy as hell wife who’d love to give me more children. As many as I wanted…
