He took everything from me. My family, my life and my freedom.
But it wasn't enough for him.
Roman Cross is a monster. A cold, calculated and ruthless mafia king who trapped me in his castle as his bride.
Now Roman wants my heart but I can't affor...
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Roman
Winter lays on the mattress with her leg resting against the wall. Her long blonde hair sprawls messily on the floor. She's sketching profusely on a pad Arthur bought her; flipping page after page.
The intel I had on her says she was a natural when it came to fine arts. The only part of her that her mother took interested in given the numbers of art galleries she acquired to launder money.
I suspect that that Winter turned to digital arts and animation as a way to get her parent's attention. Though it didn't seem to quite work in her favour. She was still invisible to them just as she was before.
My attention is glued to the monitor. I want to know what she's drawing; what makes her brow cease in such deep concentration. It's been nearly a month since I've been down there - since I've fucked her.
Winter is a distraction. One that can't afford right now as another shipment of Cloud9 has been torched.
I've interrogated all my men, dangling damaging information I had of them or threatening their loved ones - all to find the fucking rat that doesn't exist. I know where their loyalties lie and it's with me. Which only means the issues are with the other Drug Lords I've negotiated with to move my shipments across their territory. These old fuckers never knew how to do a job properly in the first place.
I have Arthur on the case since I've been distracted. Distracted by the blonde headed pixie in my basement, he says.
My palms grips the armchair as my cock throbs with need. I can't get the memories of her sweet cunt out of my mind. I need it, I crave it. So much so that I can't focus on the work in front of me. So much so that I found myself steadily making my way to the basement.
Winter doesn't look up at me as I enter her cell and I point a glare at her. I want her attention, her eyes on me wherever I'm near. I drag a chair towards the mattress and sit with my elbows on my knees.
Yet still she doesn't look up.
I take deep breathes, counting to ten to calm the rage in my veins.
I don't make it to ten as I lunge. My fingers woven into her hair and pull her towards me. She yelps and fights me but I tighten my grip until her eyes burn with tears, and she stops moving.
"Eyes on me, always." I snarl in her face. Fire swims in those blues eyes. There is still fight left in her even when she's here all alone in a mouldy cell. Trapped, lock away from the world she knows. Although from the way her bottom lip trembles and the bags under her eyes, she's close to cracking.
