“Mierda,” Katie sighed, sitting up in bed and looking around. She was once more locked up in her tower room with her evil husband nowhere in sight.
How the hell does he manage to do this to me without waking me up? she wondered, climbing out of bed and twisting around in the full-length mirror to check out her ass. Yup, he really had gotten his name tattooed across her ass cheek and, nope, that really wasn't a crazy dream.
Katie had been at the hacienda for three full weeks now. Three blissfully wonderful (in a purely sexual way) weeks. But also, three extraordinarily frustrating weeks as her new husband treated her like a naughty puppy who would run away from home as soon as it was off its leash. Too bad he was right. Because the worse her crazy possessive husband treated her, the more determined she was to leave.
Every night except one, Roman took her to his bed and fucked her with vigour and imagination until she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open, let alone contemplate running away. Sometimes he was gentle and sometimes he was harsh, but he was always mindful of her pleasure before his. Then, each morning Katie would wake up in her own bed, alone and angry because he refused to spend the whole night next to his wife. She knew he wouldn't sleep with her because he didn't trust her until she was secure in the tower room. But it crushed her nonetheless.
Then, five days ago, he had a tattoo artist brought in. Together with Roman, they had designed a tattoo for Katie. No one asked her if she wanted a tattoo. No one asked her what kind of a tattoo she would choose if she were to get one. Certainly, no one asked her where on her body she would get a tattoo. When she did attempt to protest, Roman had simply informed her she could lay quietly through her tattoo or she could ‘sleep’ through it. Deciding an awake tattoo was better than a drugged tattoo, Katie had acquiesced with a glare, hiking up her skirt and laying down on the bed. God help her insane husband if she ever got her hands on that sleeping drug and a suicidal tattoo artist. He was so getting ‘livin’ la vida loca’ tattooed across his forehead.
Roman had, of course, refused to leave. There was zero chance of him allowing another person to touch her body, let alone the flesh of her ass cheek, without him in the room the entire time. Never mind that he was paying the other person to do this for them. As Katie studied the pink rose with Roman’s name scrawled through it, she had to admit that she actually kind of loved it.
Then her fingers strayed lower to the flesh of her thigh and the slight bump there. Now this little baby made her want to punch Roman Valdez in the throat like nothing else. The bastard. Immediately after her tattoo, he’d ushered the artist out of the room. But before Katie could get up and straighten her skirt, he’d ushered someone else in. A doctor, apparently. Without bothering to explain a damn thing, Roman had held her down while the doctor had swabbed her thigh and injected something into the area.
Katie had howled and smacked at Roman. He’d held onto her until the doctor put a bandage over the injection site and then discreetly left the room. As soon as Roman let her up, Katie jumped away from him, her hand flying to her thigh. She winced, but explored the reddened spot after peeling the bandage back. Her eyes widened as she felt the tiny device, as small as a grain of rice, under her skin. Then she turned narrowed eyes on her captor.
“You implanted me with a fucking tracker?” she hissed angrily.
He raised a dark eyebrow at her language. Katie was raised with a mom that didn't allow her children to use bad language. It hadn't stuck with her brothers, but Katie rarely swore unless she was really pissed off.
“Can’t have you running on me, baby,” he said matter of factly. “Got too many enemies out there now. You'd be a prime target.”
She growled at him and shoved herself back on the bed, scooting away from him. She curled into the far corner turning her back on him and tugging her skirt down over her bent knees as if to protect herself. Tears gathered in her eyes. She knew he was crazy possessive of her and the past weeks had shown that he wasn't willing to give even an inch of leeway, but she had thought maybe eventually she would convince him to work with her. Now… after this, she knew he wouldn’t change his mind about her. All these mafia guys were the same. Misogynistic assholes.
“Don’t bother coming for me tonight,” she said against the wall. “You can go fuck yourself for all I care.”
She could feel the heat of his anger from behind her and knew he was controlling himself so he wouldn't reach out and grab her. Probably didn't want to hurt her too much more since she was already in pain from the tattoo and microchip. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was indeed standing next to the bed, his fists clenched. She shuddered almost wishing she hadn’t issued such a challenge to him. He was not a man to take her lip lightly.
He must have sensed her regret because, instead of callously insisting she come to his bed, he said only, “You can have this night only to recover. Tomorrow you come to me.” Then he turned and left the room.
That had been the night Katie had planned her escape from casa Valdez. The only night Roman hadn’t exhausted her to breaking point. Tonight, she would execute her plan. She had everything she needed. She would pretend she had her period and couldn’t perform her wifely duties. In reality, Katie’s period was irregular and came pretty much whenever it pleased within a four to seven-week window. She had no way of knowing if Roman would respect her wishes anyway, but she was hoping. She was going to send Lana with the message later and beg for some Advil so it would look like she was feeling achy as well.
Though he was a demanding husband with a possessive streak a mile wide, Roman wasn't entirely cruel. If he thought Katie wasn’t feeling well, he would want her well taken care of. She doubted he would drag her off to his bedroom to suffer just so he could get his rocks off. In fact, she was banking on him rushing to her bedside to see how she was doing and seeing with his own eyes that it was indeed just cramping and back pain that was causing her illness.
Katie wasn’t wrong in her assumption. She had barely informed Lana that she wasn’t feeling well and Roman was at her bedside, literally minutes later. Katie was sitting up in bed a pillow hugged to her chest. She watched in real awe as the door was shoved open with unnecessary force and her dark husband was stalking toward her. Katie had to stiffen her back to stop herself from scrambling across the bed to get away from him. She stared, open-mouthed as he strode directly to her bedside, his unreadable expression slipping for just a second to reveal true concern in the form of an angry scowl. Her heart pounded in response as a flash of remorse for her duplicity shuddered through her.
“Lana informs me that you’re sick?” he demanded, reaching out to cup her chin and tilt her face up so he could study her. After a moment of frowning scrutiny, he said, “You seem fine to me.”
So, Lana hadn’t even had time to explain what was wrong with the lady of the house before Roman had come tearing up to her tower room. Wow. Aside from the whole locking her ass up every chance he got, Roman made an extremely attentive husband. Well, time to pull out the acting abilities since, apparently, Lana hadn’t been very helpful and Roman hadn’t given her time to slip under the covers and start moaning pathetically.
She dropped her eyes and curled her legs up into the pillow. “It’s n-not a big deal, Roman,” she said, clutching the pillow hard against her middle and blushing furiously. “I’ll be fine… but do you think I can spend the next few nights in my room. A-alone.” Her voice had dropped off to a whisper by the last word.
He growled and took her by the shoulders. “Damn it, Katie, just tell me what’s wrong. Are you hurt?” he demanded, reaching down to yank the pillow out of her hands. He began running his hands over her arms, checking for an injury.
Katie was so surprised she let the pillow go without a fight. Knowing the depth of Roman’s feelings for her, she had expected concern from him, but she hadn’t expected this level of upset. Now that she thought about it, it made sense. Roman was all about control, especially when it came to her. He wouldn’t be able to handle the thought of her being injured unless he was applying the pain himself and in complete control of every aspect of her torture.
She caught his hand as he started pulling her leg out so he could examine it. “Roman!” she gasped and then giggled because he pressed his thumb into the arch of her foot. “Calm down, I’m not hurt, mi amor.”
He froze, his dark eyes colliding with hers. She saw relief and something like smug happiness there as well. She rarely used any kind of endearment with him, let alone Spanish. She gripped his face between her hands and brought it down for a light kiss against his lips. She may have anticipated his concern, but she hadn't taken into account the stab of guilt she felt over giving him anxiety.
“It’s my lady times… come to visit,” Katie told him. She dropped her eyes, finding that she couldn’t meet his eyes, though she didn't release his face. “I’m just not very comfortable right now. My back hurts and my belly feels heavy and swollen.”
She felt some of the tension leave his shoulders as she explained what was wrong with her. She knew he had little to no experience with women’s reproductive issues. Not that it would bother him. Roman was a good man, he would most likely educate himself on this new aspect of his wife now that the thought occurred to him. In the meantime, she was going to use his lack of knowledge against him.
“I just don't think I can have s-sex right now…,” she trailed off as if too embarrassed to keep talking.
He nodded and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand stroked over her arm. “Of course. I’m not a monster, Katerina,” he said, his deep voice almost hurt. His sharp gaze took in her flushed features. “You’re not lying to me?”
Katie shook her head and clutched his hand while rubbing her other hand almost absently over her lower belly. Her legs were curled protectively underneath her. She was wearing a pair of royal blue satin pyjama pants and a light blue sleeveless lace-edged sleep shirt. “I do genuinely feel pretty crappy, Roman. I could use an Advil, actually. They usually calm the cramps enough so I can get some sleep. I’m exhausted,” she said, smothering a yawn for emphasis, “but I won't be able to sleep with the aching.”
He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over the back of it. “Of course, you will have what you need.” His serious eyes continued to search her and then he seemed to come to a conclusion. “You have been here for just over three weeks. It makes sense that you would menstruate eventually unless you became pregnant. It was my hope, since I have withheld your pills, but… ah… well, maybe next month.”
Note to self, Katie thought, gritting her teeth mentally, the second you’re free go get the damn birth control shot until this man learns how joint decision making works.
Without warning, Roman stood, lifting Katie high in his arms, and striding toward the door. He then proceeded to have one of the most embarrassing conversations with Miguel that Katie could remember having to endure as he ordered the giant guard to have anything Katie might need sent to the master suite. At one point a matter of clarification came up and both men turned curious eyes down toward Katie’s tomato red face.
“Tampons… regular,” she gritted out before hiding her face in Roman’s shoulder and deciding next time she created a brilliant escape plan she was going with anything else besides a pretend period ploy. Apparently, men had no shame anymore when it came to women’s delicate times. The only person that seemed to be embarrassed by the direction of their conversation was Katie. She wondered if it would be common knowledge around the compound by morning that Katie had her period.
After securing Katie’s needs, Roman strode down to the stairs with her held securely in his arms. Luckily, she had anticipated his wanting her in his room for the night so he could watch over her. Though it made her plan a little more difficult, she had to admit to a warm glow of happiness over his possessive care of her. He was so good to her when he wasn’t being a barbaric pig and locking her behind doors. Not to mention curtailing her best skill. Her stunning ability to lift priceless artwork undetected. Except for that one time she got caught and forcibly married. But she didn’t think that should count since Roman had been one step ahead of her since she was thirteen years old.
It was Katie’s turn now.