by Ivy Fox
“It’s normal to be upset. You miss her.”
“Yeah, I do. Our mom was everything to us—to me.”
“Tell me a little more about her?” she asks, her fingers tracing over my heart.
I’ve told her so much already, but one thing I’ve still kept to myself.
“She wanted a divorce. The twins and Elle don’t know it, but the day she died, she told me to pack our stuff so we could finally leave the bastard behind. She left that morning, promising me our lives were about to change. And they did. But not the way she planned.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, placing a tender kiss on my chest, and I hold her just a little bit tighter to feel more of her warmth. “Rome, why didn’t you ever leave? You’re almost twenty-one. You could have left anytime you wanted. So why did you stay?”
I pick her chin up, missing those angel eyes of hers.
“Because of Elle. I knew the twins would haul ass out of here at the first chance they got, but I couldn’t leave my baby sister alone in this house with that monster.”
Her eyes turn a cloudy shade, but I can still read the strength behind her storm. My asshole of a father tried to take that silent strength away from her, but the coward underestimated my girl. He had no idea my Snow is like a hurricane—peaceful and tranquil at her core, so easy to crush if the evil intent is there, but to get to it, you have to weather her strong, violent winds. Not everyone is lucky enough to survive such a squall.
I inhale, tapping into my own silent strength and tell her what I’ve come to suspect is true, “I think he hurt her.”
“Elle?” Snow’s eyes widen in horror.
“No.” I shake my head, erasing that ugly thought from her mind.
“Then, who?”
“My mother. I think he hurt my mother, Snow.” It’s the first time I’ve ever said the words out loud, and somehow, voicing my worst fear solidifies its truth.
“Oh, Rome,” she whimpers, wrapping her arms around me as if protecting me against the world and all the monsters within it. I hold her tightly, losing my head in her silky locks as the warm scent of ginger inundates my senses.
“I hate him, for what he did to her, and for what he did to us. But most importantly, I hate him for what he tried to do to you. He’ll never hurt anyone again. I promise you, Snow. I fucking promise you,” I vow, my tone cracking at the end, overwhelmed by my confession.
“I know, baby. I know,” she affirms, kissing every inch of my face until she silences my chaos by pressing her lips to mine, breathing hope and life back into me.
I let her love wash over me, erasing the hurt and pain I feel inside. She only stops her passionate attack when she’s sure I’m cleansed. Like a blank canvas ready to be filled with all the vibrant colors she has at her disposal.
We stay locked in each other’s embrace until I feel another piece of myself spring to life. And while lost in each other’s eyes, I make love to her—soft, sweet, and honest.
With my body, I promise to always cherish her. With my kiss, I vow to always protect her. And with my heart, I whisper how much I love her. Without one word ever leaving our lips, we confess what our hearts yearn to announce. We confess our sins and our truths. We walk together side by side until we reach the precipice and jump, knowing that the leap of faith is one we can’t help but take. It’s out of our control now. Our fate was set the moment we kissed.
There’s no turning back. Only forward.
We spend the rest of our morning like this until my stomach begins to growl.
“Haven’t you eaten enough?” she teases me, pinching my flat stomach.
“Sometimes, a man needs actual solids. Your sweet, peach pussy only nourishes me to a point.”
She laughs and then scrunches her nose when she gets a whiff of herself.
“You might be onto something. I definitely need food and a bath.”
I don’t smell my armpit like she did, but I know that with the amount of lovemaking we’ve done in the last few hours, I must be pretty ripe, too.
“I could do with one, too,” I admit.
“Then we’ll have one together,” she remarks, her brows dancing on her forehead, not being very subtle with her little hint. I think it’s clear we are definitely in our honeymoon stage—looking for every excuse to keep our hands on each other.
“Nice try. If we go into that bathroom together, you won’t get clean because I’ll be too busy dirtying you up. And that will just delay us getting some food, now won’t it?”
“And just how would you go about doing that? Dirtying me up, I mean?”
I bite my lower lip because she’s curious when she’s horny, and my dick—twitching like the energizer bunny, ready to take her up against the shower wall—isn’t helping my stomach any, either.
“Nope, not happening. Go and shower, and I’ll do the same in my room. Then we can go downstairs for some breakfast.” Reluctantly, I get out of bed, put on my jeans and T-shirt while she sits up on the bed, her beautiful pout in place, knowing that my kryptonite is to give her whatever she wants.
The girl picked up fast on how to toy with my heartstrings.
“You’re no fun,” she snaps, with no heat behind it to make my steps falter.
I blow her a kiss with a cocky wink, not trusting myself enough to kiss her goodbye. I know how easy it is to get lost in her with just one kiss. I close the door behind me, and before I even take two steps, the jubilant smile on my face is quickly replaced with a hateful scowl.
“Now I understand.” Vivienne begins, her ugly sneer revealing the grotesque human being that she is. “Is Holland the reason? Is that fucking slut the reason why you won’t come to me?” she barks, delusional.
I step into her space, making her take a few steps back, preventing Snow from hearing her mother losing her shit over something that would never happen even if hell froze over.
“No, Vivienne. The only reason I wouldn’t touch you is because you fucking repulse me.”
“You’re lying. I know it’s that tramp who has put things into your head,” she rebukes, the venom in her blue, ice-cold eyes just as malicious as her defaming words. I invade her space again, driving her back until she is pressed firmly against the wall. I lean into her, my abhorrence clear as day, making it evident that I’m not fucking around.
“I’ve never laid a hand on a woman, but don’t think for a minute that I won’t strike you down and destroy you. I don’t have to touch you to make you wish you’d never crossed me. Say one more thing about Holland, and I promise that I will make you eat all those words and choke on them.”
“Roman,” she begins to coo, changing tactics since she is clever enough to know when she’s put her foot in her mouth.
She places her hands on my chest, and I take them off, her wrists begging me to break them in my grip.
The memory of the first time I met Snow assaults me—I remember how her flawless skin was punctured with fingernail marks. The image sets my blood boiling, knowing it was this bitch that hurt her.
“You know what, Vivienne? You’re done. I want you out of my house by the end of the day.”
Her eyes open wide, her jaw slammed on the floor.
“You can’t be serious? My husband, your father, is still in the hospital, and you’re kicking my daughter and me out of our own home?” she shrieks.
“It’s never been your home. It’s ours. And I’m not kicking Holland out, only you, Vivienne. Only you.”
Her nostrils begin to flare, and I release her wrists, knowing the little intimidation tactic was enough to set her straight. Still, she holds her head high, looking at me as if she were the queen of fucking Manhattan, and points her boney finger in my face.
“Your father will wake. And when he does, and he finds out how you treated me, how you’re screwing around with my daughter under his roof, you’re the one who will regret every last word you just said to me. I’ll make sure of it!”
&
nbsp; “Tick-tock, Vivienne,” I state, feigning boredom, pointing at the imaginary watch on my wrist and indicating her to get a move on.
“You’ll be sorry for this, Roman Grayson!” she yells out, and instead of the rise she expects to get out of me, I just give her my most sinister smile.
“Not as sorry as you’ll be if you hurt Holland again. That’s the only check you can take to the bank with the name Grayson on it,” I rebuke, passing the bitch by, feeling a hundred pounds lighter now that I’ve gotten Vivienne West out of our lives.
And when my father dies, all our monsters will be a thing of the past.
Chapter 15
Holland
Rome keeps bringing one surprise after another.
Tonight, he has a table set up on the terrace so we can eat dinner under the stars while listening to the sounds his beloved city makes. It’s been nice, seeing New York City through his eyes.
Throughout the week, he took me to all the places he loves, and the way he described the rich history of every street and every building, and I couldn’t help but become a little enamored with the city, just as he obviously is. He wants this to be my home, and a part of me feels as if it already is. But it has nothing to do with the hot dogs we ate at Gray’s Papaya, or the afternoon strolls we took through Central Park, and everything to do with the man sitting in front of me.
Rome has told me so much about himself and his family throughout these past months, but this past week, I feel I got to learn more about how he really ticks. About the person he is and the one he wishes to become. If he only knew I already think he’s perfect just the way he is. We’ve come a long way from the hate we had for each other, back at the Hamptons. Under these stars, I know exactly what breathes inside us now. We’re just not brave enough to say the words out loud, yet. But does it really even matter if we use words to tell each other how we feel? Especially when we’ve been expressing it in so many other creative ways?
It’s in every stolen kiss.
I love you.
In every tender caress.
I love you.
In all the light touches and long stares into each other’s eyes.
I love you.
When we become one, and we can’t even tell where one soul commences and the other ends.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
It’s all there in perfect tone, coloring every low whisper, every sigh, and every moan. So what difference does it make if three little words haven’t made their way to our lips? The message we tell each other in the dead of night, lost in our loving embrace, is just as powerful and just as true.
“Rome? Can I ask you something?” I question, as he pours more red wine into my glass.
I should probably stop on this second glass since I’m already going to feel it in my aching joints in the morning, but I’ve done a lot more damaging things over the last few months to worry about a little wine. Especially now, when my mind is focused on other matters.
“Anything.” He smiles tenderly at me, and I almost feel guilty for bringing the next topic of conversation onto the table. I know it’s not his favorite.
“Why did you break up with Addison?” He chokes mid-drink, using the napkin to clean the red-tinged dribble.
“Where did that come from?”
“Just indulge me.”
“Okay. I’ll play. What have you heard?” he begins to ask, his dark brow still cocked up high in surprise. “I know Pembroke likes to gossip, so you must have heard something.”
I maul at my lip, trying to think of the most tactful way to tell him what the rumor mill has to say about their breakup. I don’t want him to be offended, or worse, hurt him by the tales.
“That she cheated on you, so you had no choice but to dump her. I heard some kids at school say how the breakup crushed her, and she was never the same because of it.”
He lets out a loud belly chuckle.
“The way you say it seems like I broke her, or something. Trust me. I didn’t break Addison. I don’t think anyone or anything can. She always saw me as a prize. She was… no, she is a manipulative, vapid girl, who likes to act as if she’s above everyone else. Her cheating on me shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but the way I found out definitely was.” He adds the last part as if it still leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
“You caught her?” I gasp, horrified, thinking of how heartbroken he must have been to find the girl he loved in the arms of some other guy.
“Red-handed. Or, should I say, white-lipped, wiping my father’s cum off her lips,” he says, nauseated.
“Addison slept with your father??? Willingly?”
“Not everyone says no to a man whose net worth is over thirty billion dollars even if it means being on her knees. Some people only see dollar signs and don’t care how low and demeaning their actions are, as long as it gets them closer to a flush bank account. I guess she thought, why be faithful to me and have to wait a few years to get her hands on my money, when she could climb her way to my father’s bed and get it sooner?” He shrugs not at all affected by his revelation.
“But it isn’t his money. You told me your mother was the heiress to the family’s fortune, and that he got nothing when she passed away,” I state, confused as to why Addison would stoop so low and sleep with that monster when Rome would inherit it all. Well, at least his portion of it, once it was divided between him and his siblings.
His shark-like smile plays on his lips, and he leans closer, summoning me in with his finger. Like a moth to a flame, I do exactly as he commands until we’re a hair’s breadth from each other.
“Ah, but see, that piece of information is not public knowledge. Aside from my family, there are only a handful of lawyers that know the honorable Judge Grayson was only given a monthly allowance and nothing else. We all had come to the agreement that, if vultures wanted to pick at our bones to get something out of us, we’d let them think he’s the one with enough meat to feed them. And a fine example of that was Addison Hurst.”
“But if only a few people know it, then why tell me about the money?” I ask, genuinely baffled, as this seems to be more of a big family secret.
He leans in closer, gently clipping my chin, locking me still with his penetrating gaze.
“Isn’t it obvious? You don’t want money. You never did. But you still wanted me,” he whispers, his eyes at half-mast, locked on my lips.
I lift up from my seat to give him what he’s silently begging for—a kiss, confirming how right he is. To my disappointment, he doesn’t let me deepen our kiss, but I guess we have more than enough time to do that afterward. He’s taken such pains to give me this romantic, candlelit dinner that it would be wrong to skip it and go straight to dessert.
I sit back and admire his content grin that lights up the night more than the stars above us. Addison was a fool. Too bad for her.
“What?” He smirks smugly as if reading the exact thoughts that travel through my mind.
“I guess I’m still in shock about Addison and your father,” I tell him, trying to steer him away from my real thoughts.
“Yeah, it was definitely eye-opening. Watching your girlfriend being face-fucked by your own father is something I don’t recommend.”
I cringe at the image he planted in my head, nausea taking hold of me. I do everything in my power to clear my mind of that vile picture, but to my chagrin, another realization dawns on me—one that hurts my heart worse than the nauseous pangs in my stomach.
“You were in love with her.”
Rome’s eyes turn soft at my outburst, grabbing my hand in his and gently stroking the inside of my wrist. His tender touch anchors me, steadies me enough to dive into the depressive thought of how a man that loved a woman like Addison could ever fall for someone like me. I lower my eyes to our clutched hands and wonder if I’m not fooling myself in thinking they belong together.
“Snow,” he
hushes. “Look at me.”
I tilt my head up, those golden eyes already seeking mine.
“I was never in love with Addison. Maybe there might have been a time I convinced myself that I was, but trust me when I tell you, I know now that I wasn’t even close to being in love with her. Not even in the same vicinity.”
“But she was your first, wasn’t she?”
“Yes. But did you fall in love with the first guy you ever slept with?” He cocks a brow.
“No.” I roll my eyes at the idea. “The first guy I slept with was some stranger I met at a party. Candy took me to one when I was fifteen, thinking it would lift my spirits after being diagnosed with lupus. I thought that taking control of my body by sleeping with a random stranger would somehow empower me. All it did was to make me sad, though,” I admit, recalling that somber period of my life before the twins came to be part of it.
The heaviness in my chest increases, remembering how Ash and Ollie made everything better. They gave me hope when I didn’t have any. Gave me love when I was deemed unlovable. They gave me so much, and somehow, I lost it all in a blink of an eye.
“So you understand where my mind was back then. I wanted to feel a love that was stolen away from me when my mother died. I felt empty and lost, so I thought that Addison could fill the hole my mother’s death created. But that’s not how it works, Snow. You can’t replace something real with an imitation. The only thing that heals a broken heart is when you find the one person who is capable of making it whole again,” he cajoles, his tone velvet-smooth, trapping me in his golden ambers.
A shy smile crests my lips when I read another ‘I love you’ in his soft hues.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he adds, biting his lower lip, showing a flicker of his nerves.
I squeeze his hand in assurance and give him a gentle nod to continue.
“Remember the night I caught you swimming here?” he asks timidly, and I nod again, recalling that night perfectly.
