Shit. He should get changed. Wearing a business suit probably would put them off, although he’d needed to for the teleconference. Roman rushed to his room and stripped, pulling on a green polo and jeans. He kept his hair in a low ponytail on the off chance that her parents would see his long hair and think he was a hippie or something. If they seemed like aging hippies, then he’d let his hair down.
Are you kidding? What has gotten into me?
Roman was never this self-conscious, never so concerned about appearances. He’d built his reputation on the invisible fuck you aura he carried around. He didn’t take anyone’s bullshit.
He was Roman fucking Chase, goddamn it, and he wasn’t going to bow to anybody.
The doorbell rang.
Don’t run. Walk down the stairway properly.
He took a deep breath and headed down the stairs. As he passed the fountain, he tossed a coin from his jeans pocket into it.
I wish that this isn’t as horrible as I’m expecting it to be. There, that was an attainable wish, right?
As he crossed to the door it swung open. Jessica had used her key to let them in since he’d taken so long.
“Hi there,” he said, putting on a friendly smile as he looked at the family standing in his doorway.
Jessica smiled nervously and ushered them inside. Her mother looked a lot like her, although in her fifties, with her hair loose around her face. She wore practically no makeup, but she’d clearly aged well, even if she was a bit too thin, like her daughter.
Mr. Vaughn, on the other hand, had a belly on him, and wore his shirt tucked into his khaki pants. His hairline receded almost to the back of his head, leaving salt-and-pepper hair on the side. At least he wasn’t trying to do a comb-over.
“Quite a place you’ve got here,” Mr. Vaughn said, but it didn’t sound like a compliment.
“It’s huge,” Mrs. Vaughn added, looking around the grand foyer as if it were a hotel lobby. To her daughter, she said, “Remember when you were a girl and you always talked about being a princess so you could live in a castle? You got your wish!”
“Little?” her father scoffed. “That was a few years ago. Well. This all makes sense now.” He glared at the luxury around them, as if the mansion itself were to blame for taking away his daughter.
Roman didn’t know what to say, so he just kept the smile frozen on his face and looked at Jessica.
“Every little girl wants to be a princess,” Jessica muttered under her breath. “Please.”
“And how nice of him to make your wish come true,” Mr. Vaughn said, the words laced with sarcasm. “With a wishing fountain, no less. I’d throw in a coin but apparently you don’t need any more of those.”
“Daddy.” She frowned. “I’ve told them all about you, Roman,” Jessica said, in the sort of way that made it very clear she had not.
“You didn’t tell us he lived in a mansion,” Mr. Vaughn grumbled. “What exactly do you do, Roman? Even Jessica didn’t seem entirely sure.”
“That’s not true!” Jessica looked at Roman, horrified.
Roman decided to take charge before things spiraled out of control. Because he would remain, above all, in control. Especially in his own house.
“It was a long drive from the airport. Would you let me help you bring your bags to your room?” Roman asked.
“It’s a secret,” Mr. Vaughn said to his wife, as if Roman wasn’t standing right there.
He laughed, hoping it didn’t sound insincere. “No, no secret. Just not very interesting. I help run the Brooks Wilde Chase Fund with my business partners, Trevor Brooks and Marc Wilde. It’s a hedge fund we jointly founded after college.”
Mrs. Vaughn smiled. “You must be a big fan of education, to be paying for Jessica’s tuition.”
Roman paused, unsure of what to say. He didn’t want to make her parents feel like they’d failed at providing a college education for their daughter, or that he was so rich that it was no big deal for him to do so.
“Roman is incredibly supportive of everything that I do,” Jessica said, wrapping her arm around his waist.
“We’re going to talk more about this later,” her father said. “I’m going to be frank with you, Roman. This is weird. You’re fifteen years older than my daughter. When you were her age, she was a five-year-old child. That’s sick. Sick. Are you a pedophile?”
Jessica’s mouth opened and she gasped. “Dad! You can’t disrespect my . . . my partner like that.”
Roman stared him in the eyes. “I appreciate your blunt, if incredibly rude, question. No, I am not a pedophile. Clearly you still see Jessica as a child, but she’s a woman. An adult, one who makes her own choices.”
“You suckered her with all of this money,” Mr. Vaughn growled.
“No, Dad, he didn’t,” Jessica said. “And while I miss you, and I love you, and I really want you to stay, I—I can’t let you stay in . . . our home, not if you’re going to speak to Roman this way.”
Roman loved the way “our home” sounded on her lips. Yes, she’d hesitated, but it sounded right. He wasn’t used to seeing Jessica stand up for herself this way—when she was with him she let him be in charge. He saw her in a new light—he could imagine her in class, presenting a thesis to her professor, debating points with the other students. She was a strong woman.
And she’d given herself to him. What an incredible gift.
But the princess thing. That was . . . disconcerting. No. It was nothing. Don’t let them ruin things.
Mrs. Vaughn spoke up, putting a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Honey, I know you’re looking out for Jessica’s best interests. But I want to stay here, with her, and get to know her new, um . . . partner. Let’s go upstairs and unpack, and start fresh at dinner together.”
“I would like that very much, ma’am, sir,” Roman said. “You’re both very important to Jessica, which makes you important to me. I’d like us to get to know each other.”
Mr. Vaughn didn’t say anything, but Roman knew that tactic. Silence implied consent, especially in a fight when one didn’t want to lose face. Very well.
“Come on, guys. You’re going to love your suite.” Jessica grabbed her mother’s bag and headed up the stairs.
“That looks heavy, Jessica, let me get that,” Roman said, taking it from her.
They followed him in silence up the stairs, the only sound their footsteps.
“Can I take it from here, ss—Roman?” Jessica asked, blushing at nearly calling him sir.
Roman nodded. “If you need anything at all, just ask. My wonderful cook Mrs. Marsh is preparing dinner now, but it’ll be at least another couple of hours before we eat, so feel free to get a drink, or a snack. Anything.”
“He could use a drink,” Mrs. Vaughn said.
“I know the feeling. What’s your poison, sir?”
He raised his eyebrows. “With all due respect,” Mr. Vaughn said, “I hope you haven’t forgotten that Jessica is not of legal drinking age. Supplying alcohol to minors is illegal.”
Jessica frowned at her father. “Dad, your suite is three doors down the east wing here, on the right. Make yourself at home. I’ll bring you your gin and tonic. Mom, white wine?”
“Um, better make it two gin and tonics for us, honey.” Mrs. Vaughn winked at Roman, and Roman smiled.
Well, at least he had one of them on his side.
“Mr. Vaughn, Mrs. Vaughn, welcome to our home. Dinner is at six in the formal dining room, per Mrs. Marsh’s request. She’s making us something special.”
“You take orders from your staff?” Mr. Vaughn asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Mrs. Marsh has worked for my family since I was a baby. She’s changed my diapers, as she likes to remind me. So whatever she says goes,” he joked.
It was true, although Mrs. Marsh was also aware of his
unusual tastes—he couldn’t keep it a complete secret that he’d been training submissives, so Mrs. Marsh had grown accustomed to seeing the parade of women that went through his home. He trusted her like family.
Maybe she’d be able to bring Jessica’s father around. Or maybe Roman would just have to continue his relationship with Jessica without her father’s approval.
As long as Mr. Vaughn didn’t try to take her away from him, they’d be okay. Roman walked down the hallway to his bedroom, determined to close his eyes and meditate to ease his nerves after what had basically been the worst-case-scenario introduction to her parents.
He only hoped they wouldn’t turn Jessica against him and convince her to leave. Then again, if they could do that, then perhaps she didn’t truly want to be with him. Even if he had made her childhood dream of living in a . . . a castle come true. Better to find that out now, instead of in a few years.
Just like ripping off a Band-Aid.
If you’re gonna do it, Jessica—do it fast, do it now.
Chapter Eleven
Jessica knocked softly on the door to the guest suite.
“Who is it?” her dad called.
“Just me. With drinks.”
Her mom opened the door and smiled, taking the gin and tonics from her hands. “Thank you, sweetie. Come on in, Daddy wants to talk to you.”
Oh, that couldn’t be good. She entered and perched on the edge of the queen-sized bed.
Her dad took a deep sip of his drink before talking. “Honey, your mother wants me to apologize for being rude to your . . . Roman.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Jessica said.
“I mean, I apologize. Okay?” Her father looked older than the last time she’d seen him. More gray hairs, perhaps. A few more pounds overweight.
“Thank you, Daddy. I appreciate it. I’m sure Roman would appreciate it too.”
“The thing is, Jessie, you are so young. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
“I do.” Jessica frowned. They better not be going with this where she thought they were going.
“What your father’s trying to say,” her mother interrupted, “is that Roman seems very nice, and he’s clearly got a lot of wealth. I’m sure that’s very appealing. But the fact is . . . he’s too old for you, sweetie. You should be with someone your own age, someone in college. Don’t you miss dating?”
“I don’t want to date anyone but him,” she said honestly.
“Okay, sweetheart,” her mom said. “But ask yourself how invested you are in this relationship. Do you love him?”
Oh yes, yes she did. So much it hurt.
Jessica nodded. “I do.”
“And has he said he loves you back?”
Jessica felt as if she’d been sucker punched in the gut. A wave of nausea came over her.
“No, not yet.”
“Have you told him how you feel?” Her mother looked concerned, and Jessica’s eyes filled with unwanted tears.
God, this is the worst thing to be doing right now. Crying over Roman. But willing herself to stop just made the tears roll down her cheeks.
“Yes, I told him.”
Her father wisely didn’t interrupt. But the look on his face said it all.
“Honey,” her mom said, sitting next to her on the bed. “You need to look at this situation objectively. Here is a very wealthy man, an older man, who probably appreciates having a pretty young girl around the house. You don’t need to tell me if you’re . . .” She paused, glancing at her husband, before whispering, “. . . sleeping with him.” She raised her voice back up to normal. “I don’t want to know, but I can guess. And then you tell him that you love him, because you are a sweet, loving girl. And he doesn’t say it back.”
Oh God, she was right. They were right. Roman didn’t return her feelings—what was she doing staying with him when it would only end up with him kicking her to the curb? He’d get bored with her, just like he did with every other submissive who’d ever entered his life.
“Jessie,” her dad said, sighing. “We’re only saying this because we’re concerned. We love you. And we say it. A man who doesn’t say that back to you, that’s not an accident. I can tell you how men think. You don’t get it, how men think when they look at a girl like you.”
“I get it, Dad, stop.”
“You still see everything through rose-colored glasses,” he argued. “You’re wearing diamond earrings, for crying out loud. Diamonds. That blouse looks like it cost more than your entire year’s clothing allowance growing up. What’s going to happen to your college career when he changes his mind and refuses to keep paying your tuition?”
“I’ll get a student loan,” she mumbled.
“And where will you live?” her mother asked. “You know how hard it was to find that apartment, and you could barely afford it. All the dorms are full in the middle of a semester. Come home, honey. You can stay with us and go to the University of Colorado, in Denver. It’s so close you can easily commute.”
Jessica stood from the bed. “I love you guys, and I appreciate that you’re looking out for me. But I need to stay. I want to stay here, with Roman. And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll come home. But I won’t just leave him now, for no reason.”
“I’m sure he’ll let you keep the gifts,” her mother said quietly. “Even if you left. Living with people who love you, really love you, is so important, Jessie.”
Jessica shook her head, fighting back a fresh onslaught of tears. She didn’t care about the gifts, not anymore. All she cared about was having Roman love her.
And if he doesn’t?
Her dad set his drink on the dresser-top, next to her mother’s purse. It was an old purse. Maybe she could use Roman’s credit card to buy her a new one.
“Jessie,” her dad said, “please listen to reason, for once. We don’t want you to get hurt.”
At this, Jessica laughed, a dry laugh. “Maybe I want to get hurt. Maybe I’m weird like that.” She shook her head. “I’ll see you both at dinner. Daddy, wear a tie.”
She closed the door quietly behind her, determined not to slam it shut like a teenager would, as much as she wanted to.
She had to talk to Roman.
“Sir,” Jessica whispered as she entered their master suite and closed the door behind her, locking it for privacy. Roman was lying on his back with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t turn to look at her, as if he was lost in thought, in his own world.
She knelt by the side of the bed, waiting for him to acknowledge her.
Roman sat up and ran his hand over her hair, cupping her chin.
“I love you, sir,” she said. “I need you to know that. And . . . I’d like to know how you feel, even if it’s not what I want to hear.”
Roman seemed taken aback, silent. Oh God, he wasn’t answering. A tear rolled down her cheek.
“That’s what I thought,” she whispered, and began to rise.
“Don’t go,” he said softly. “You are mine. My slave. You wear my collar, whether it’s around your neck or not. Is that true?”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is . . . It’s hard for me, Jessica.” He took her by the shoulders and helped her up onto the bed. “Your parents’ disapproval is making me question my motives for keeping you as my own. It’s selfish of me—I can see that.”
“What? Why?”
“I know what your father thinks. But the fact is, I care about you very much.”
Care. Just . . . care. Not love. Never had a kind word hurt her so much.
“I suppose I don’t need anything more than that,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder, staring straight ahead. “As long as I can be yours, I shouldn’t need to have claim over your heart as well.”
“My heart has been broken before,” Roman said. “I . . . I never want to hav
e that happen again. I’d die.”
“People don’t really die of broken hearts,” she said. “They just wish they would.”
“That sounds about right.” He wrapped his arm around her, and she nestled in against his muscular chest.
“What’s the worst that could happen, sir? If you let yourself fall in love with me, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”
He paused, as if considering every scenario. “You could leave me. It would destroy me.”
“I don’t have that power over you, sir. I don’t.”
Roman took her face in his hand again, a very dominant caress that left her breathless, needy. He kissed her lips, murmuring against them. “You do.”
“I suppose if I have to talk you into loving me, there’s no point.”
Roman winced as if she’d slapped him. “Please don’t give up on me. I’m trying.”
“You shouldn’t have to try to love me, Roman. It shouldn’t be so hard.”
He looked away, but she swore she saw the glint of a tear in his eye.
“You’re right,” he said. “But it is hard. Loving you is . . . It’s very hard for me. That’s not what you want to hear, I know, but it’s how it is.”
Oh God. So this was how it would end.
Not with a fight, a match of wills, or a backlash against his all-encompassing dominance, but merely a slow, sinking realization that she loved him, and he never would love her back.
Their relationship, everything they’d built between them, would not crash around her like a building in an earthquake, the way she feared. Instead, it was ending like this . . . so softly, so quickly, like smoke dissipating in the air.
As if what they had never existed.
Because no matter how hard she loved him, if he was unable to love her back . . . then perhaps it had never existed after all, other than in her own imagination. Her own fantasies.
That was how it had started, and that was how it would end. With Roman loving her in her dreams alone.
“I have some thinking to do,” he whispered. “Will you . . . will you give me some time to be alone?”
Enraptured Page 16
