The dark obsession boxed.., p.85
The Dark Obsession Boxed Set, page 85
“Hello, kitten.”
I jumped and dropped the mascara wand again. “Dammit.”
I stared at Roman’s reflection in the mirror just over my shoulder. “Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He crossed to my vanity and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before he returned to loosening his cufflinks.
I continued to stare at him. There was ice behind his eyes. It wasn’t in my imagination. I could feel it in my bones. This was all an act. He was a cobra swaying to the music, lulling me into a false sense of calm right before he struck.
He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair before pulling out the formal morning suit he had selected to wear today. “Did you see the dress I purchased for you?”
A servant had brought the massive black box with the purple silk ribbon to me after breakfast. When I lifted the lid, nestled among purple tissue paper was a gorgeous cream silk gown with delicate lace embellishment over the bodice. “I did. It seems a bit fancy for an afternoon event,” I hedged. He had mentioned several days ago not to make plans today, but he had stubbornly refused to tell me where we were going or what we were doing.
Roman met my gaze in the mirror and smiled. “Nice try. It’s a surprise. Now hurry. We don’t want to be late.”
My hand shook so badly I balled it into a fist and buried it in the folds of my robe on my lap.
Whatever he had planned, it was happening today.
I needed to get the fuck out of here.
Keeping a side-eye on Roman, I opened the center drawer of my vanity, where I had my phone. I opened the screen, hoping the drawer would shield the glow. Careful to turn off the ringer so Roman wouldn’t hear a notification, I texted ’diamonds’ to Eleanor and held my breath. Several minutes later she sent me a thumbs-up emoji and a text saying two hours.
An arm appeared over my shoulder.
I cried out.
Roman grabbed the phone. “I’ll just take this. Don’t want you tempted to use it where we are going.” His voice was unnaturally light and informal, in complete contrast to the words spoken.
A chill spread through my limbs.
I cleared my throat. Trying to match his tone, I picked up my blush brush and said, “I need my phone, Roman.”
Again, he met my gaze in the mirror. “And you’ll get it back—after today. Now get dressed.”
Not knowing what else to do, I obeyed.
The silk of the dress was cold as it slid over my hips and down my legs. I smoothed it over my abdomen as I stared at my reflection.
Roman walked up behind me and grasped my shoulders. “Beautiful.”
To any outsider, we would have looked like a loving couple sharing a quiet moment. I knew better.
Roman’s eyes narrowed. “It’s missing something. A necklace, I think.”
I turned and approached my jewelry armoire. “Yes, I thought I’d wear the yellow diamond one,” I said as I pulled open the top drawer and surveyed the diamond necklaces nestled on the bed of red velvet.
“No, I think you should wear this one.”
I turned and froze.
Roman was holding up the same diamond necklace I had pawned a week ago.
My mouth went dry as my gaze flashed to his. His eyes betrayed nothing.
He knows.
“Come here, baby girl. Let me put it on you.”
I looked over his shoulder at the door, then back at Roman. He smirked. We both knew I wouldn’t make it.
My knuckles went white as I gripped the edge of the jewelry armoire. It was the only way I was staying upright.
“Aurora?”
He knows.
I swallowed as I forced the corners of my lips up. “Of course. I’ve always loved that one.”
My knees wobbled as I took one, then a second hesitant step toward him. I stopped just shy of reaching him.
Roman stepped closer.
Instinct had me backing up.
How much does he know?
Roman raised an eyebrow. He then stepped toward me again. I forced myself to stay still.
“Turn around,” he commanded.
Turn around. Turn my back on him. Turn away. Turn so that I would be vulnerable. Turn so he could strangle me from behind. Turn so I wouldn’t see the bullet. Turn. Turn. Turn around. The word tumbled and repeated in my head like a rush of dark water.
Does he know about Eleanor? Does he know it all?
I stared at the white of his tuxedo shirt and imagined what it would look like splattered with crimson blood. The rushing water sound increased in pitch. Swallowing hard, I closed my eyes… and turned.
My heart stopped in my chest when I sensed his arms reaching around me. My eyes snapped back open. The brush of his fingers as he pushed my hair over one shoulder nearly made my knees buckle. The cold, heavy weight of the diamond necklace settled around my throat. His skin brushed against mine as he latched it. He then held my shoulders and turned me slightly so we could stare at our reflection in the mirror again.
He knows.
Roman’s fingertips caressed my collarbone as he skimmed the edges of the necklace. “It was like you were fated to wear this one and only necklace, to the exclusion of all other necklaces. As if you should never take it off. Ever.”
I swallowed, catching the dark double entendre. “It’s beautiful,” I choked out, furiously tapping a Beethoven sonata on my outer thigh with my right hand to hide my panic.
Roman broke our gaze and stared down at me. “Yes, it is. It would be a shame if it got tarnished or ruined. I would truly hate to destroy it.”
He knows.
My eyelids fluttered as bile rose in the back of my throat. “You know, Roman. I’m not feeling very well. I don’t think we should—”
“I’m sure it will pass. I’ve put a great deal of work into this surprise for you. You don’t want to disappoint me, do you?”
The question hung between us like a lead weight.
I forced a smile. “No, of course not, Roman. I would never intentionally hurt or disappoint you.”
Would he understand what I was trying to say?
“I’ve recently learned it is our purest intentions which are the cruelest.”
His subtle threat hit its mark. I tightened my stomach muscles to keep from trembling.
Roman shifted away and I let out the breath I had been holding. Before I could collect my thoughts and think of what to do, he returned to my side. He covered my shoulders with a heavy fur wrap.
“Time to leave. We don’t want to be late.”
Roman wrapped a secure arm around my waist and escorted me out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The butler rushed ahead and opened the door. Roman’s car was waiting for us in the drive. With every step, my panic increased. As we crossed the threshold and were only a few steps away from his car, I pulled back. Roman increased the pressure on my back and propelled me forward. Seeing no other way out, I relented and allowed myself to be helped into the car.
I sat in the passenger seat frozen. Roman ducked his head inside and reached over me to secure my seat belt. He caressed my cheek. “Don’t want you getting hurt in some random accident, now do we?”
My eyes widened. He obviously didn’t expect a response, because he slammed the door shut before I could even form one. As we wound our way down the long drive, I glanced out the car window to the small copse of trees where Eleanor would be parked two hours from now, waiting for me. I blinked back the tears.
LP’s ’Lost on You’ was playing on the radio as Roman deftly navigated the heavy traffic through London. The forlorn lyrics tore through my chest like a bullet. I stared at his profile as he drove. The hard line of his jaw and his stoic expression radiated anger.
The car pulled smoothly over to the curb just outside Westminster Abbey. As usual, Roman waved the valet attendant away and opened my door himself. Instead of holding out his hand, he reached inside, unbuckled my seat belt and practically lifted me out of the car. I left the wrap inside the car and immediately missed its warmth as Roman placed a proprietary hand on my lower back and ushered me forward. My anxious gaze scanned the crowd. The men were dressed similar to Roman, in dark gray cutaway coats with tails, pale cream double-breasted waistcoats, striped trousers, and top hats. The women were dressed in bright monochromatic colors with matching elegant fascinators.
This is a wedding.
The thought jumped into my mind as I recalled watching William and Kate’s wedding on television years earlier. This was a freaking wedding. My heart raced as I struggled to suck oxygen into my lungs.
He wouldn’t.
No, he wouldn’t.
He couldn’t!
On our approach, men dressed smartly in bright red uniform jackets with gold brocade hustled the remaining lingering guests into the Abbey. Roman pulled me through the imposing centuries-old entrance. I blinked as we transitioned from the uncharacteristically bright sunshine to the somber shadows of the Abbey’s interior.
The guests were already seated in pews and extra chairs set in straight regimented lines just for the occasion. A flourish of orchestra music with trumpets played the Prince of Denmark’s March by Jeremiah Clarke as we started down the aisle.
Oh, my God.
I stumbled over the long hem of my dress… my pale cream, almost white silk dress.
Roman’s hand squeezed my waist as he practically lifted me off my feet and crushed me to his side as we proceeded down the aisle.
All eyes turned to stare at us in wonder and curiosity. There was a wave of whispers and gasps as the guests caught sight of us. Several people lifted the program booklet to cover their mouths as they gossiped to the person seated next to them. No doubt they were wondering why one of the most eligible bachelors in the world would want to marry a penniless woman who was almost a decade younger than him. Oh and bonus, had been accused of murdering her parents in cold blood. Well, they weren’t alone in wondering. I had asked myself the same question countless times since he first proposed.
I looked ahead to see the altar. My vision darkened around the edges as I leaned heavily on Roman. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
I was well and truly trapped.
Roman knew there was no way I would have the courage to cry out and run in front of all these distinguished guests. I would have no choice but to say I do.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
What the hell was I going to do?
With every step, we drew closer to the altar.
I can’t believe this is happening.
I couldn’t believe I’d blindly walked into my own surprise wedding.
Then, several steps before we reached the altar, Roman ushered me into a pew.
My fragile mind couldn’t process the information quickly enough. What the fuck was happening?
Just then, the orchestra played a rousing rendition of Sir Charles Hubert Hastings Parry’s Bridal March.
All the guests stood.
I turned to see the true bride enter. She was wearing a stunning Victorian-style wedding gown with a silk corset and elaborate crystal beading. I realized it was the woman from the masquerade party, Elizabeth. On her arm was the groom, Richard, the Duke of Winterbourne, Roman’s half-brother and practical twin.
My emotions were so intense I had to grip the pew in front of me to keep from sitting as a wave of exhausted relief washed over my body. Roman hadn’t deceived or tricked me. He had merely wanted to surprise me with the honor of attending his brother’s wedding with him. Quickly following my relief was a sickening guilt that I had thought he was capable of something so underhanded and despicable.
Feeling ashamed and unworthy of being Roman’s guest, I watched as the beautiful bride approached. Despite my own somber inner reflections, I couldn’t help noticing how similar we looked. Like the brothers, Elizabeth and I could practically be twins as well. I watched in awe as she flawlessly curtsied to the queen before ascending to the high altar. We were twins in appearance only. I was certain I would never have looked so elegant and poised as Elizabeth if this were me.
Roman smiled down at me as the ceremony began. As the bishop droned on, I tried to imagine what it would feel like if that actually had been me and Roman.
The idea caused such a conflict of emotions to swirl in my breast that I pushed it aside and just tried to enjoy the moment.
Just as the bishop turned to Elizabeth to recite the solemn wedding vows she was to repeat, Roman shifted beside me and reached into his inner suit pocket. Moments later, he pressed something into my hand. “Hold this for me,” he whispered in my ear.
Distracted by the pivotal moment of the wedding ceremony, I at first only glanced down at the heavy object in my hand… then my heart seized.
It was a gun.
Seconds later, a gunshot shattered the tranquility of the Abbey.
Chaos erupted around me.
Then everything went black.
CHAPTER 21
AURORA
Present day
What had I done?
I stared at the wrinkled and bloodied wedding dress. It seemed oddly familiar, and yet I couldn’t imagine why. I’d think I would remember willingly wearing a freaking Victorian wedding gown.
Think!
Nothing was going to come to me kneeling on the floor. I needed to get out of this awful dress and wash the blood off. Maybe then it would all come back to me. I ran my hands over my upper arms as a shiver racked my body. That was, if I wanted to remember.
I wrapped my left hand around a drawer handle and used it to pull myself upright. I then searched the other drawers for a pair of scissors. My only option was to somehow cut my way out of the dress. I found a pair of large, lethal-looking silver shears.
Just as I was about to thrust the opened blades between my breasts to cut the silk corset, I heard a sound behind me.
I turned, gripping the shears like a weapon and raising them high.
Roman stood in the doorway. His chest was bare. He was holding what looked like a wadded-up white dress shirt soaked in blood over his shoulder.
I gasped. “What happened?”
His eyes narrowed. “You shot me. And on our wedding day, no less.”
I blinked. “What? No. That’s not possible!”
He held up a placating hand. “It’s okay, baby. I’m not angry.”
I backed away, gripping the scissors with both hands and holding them out in front of me. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“I’m going to get you help. I will protect you, just like before.”
I frowned. “Before? What do you mean, before?”
Roman gave me a sympathetic look. “With your parents.”
“But I didn’t shoot my parents. You know that. And I didn’t shoot you! I could never… I would never—”
My mind flashed back to the time I shot a gun at him in his office. “That other time wasn’t real. I mean it was, but it wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—” My head swam. “What is happening? I don’t understand.”
Roman approached me. “Sweetheart, put the scissors down.”
I wiped my sweaty palm on my bloody dress and gripped the scissors harder. “Stay back. Don’t come any closer.”
“Baby, I’m trying to help you. You need to trust me.”
Trust him? That was a laugh.
My eyes narrowed as I held the scissors higher. “What did you do?”
“Please, just put down the scissors and we’ll talk this out. I’m not angry with you. I just want to help you.”
“What did you do? You did this! I know you did. Your wound’s probably fake. You’re just trying to trick me.”
His lips thinned as he pulled the shirt away from his chest. He grimaced when the sticky fabric clung to the already drying blood on his skin. As he lowered the shirt, fresh blood oozed from the wound. I knew nothing about gunshot wounds, but it was definitely a real wound. There was no faking the blood dripping down his chest or how I could see his flesh split open.
I shook my head as I dropped the scissors. They clattered to the floor at my feet. “No. No. This isn’t real. I don’t remember… why would I shoot you?”
Roman surged forward. His hands gripped my shoulders. “Baby, look at me. Look at me!”
His urgent tone broke through my fog. I raised my gaze to him.
“I’m going to protect you. Do you understand me? I don’t care what you did. We’ll get through this together.”
I buried my head against his chest, uncaring about the blood. “I don’t know what’s happening, Roman. I don’t remember.”
Disjointed pictures flashed across my mind.
Westminster Abbey.
An orchestra playing the wedding march.
Me walking down an aisle in a white dress with Roman at my side.
Wedding guests.
A gun in my hand.
The altar.
The bishop.
A gunshot.
Screaming.
I tried to back away from Roman, but he gripped my shoulders harder.
I struggled in his grasp. “No. It can’t be true. It can’t be. Something’s wrong.”
There was a commotion downstairs. We both turned toward the sounds.
I broke free from Roman and backed up. “What is that?”
He held his palms up and out. “It’s the only way I could protect you from the police.”
I couldn’t breathe. The tight corset was cutting off my air. I fell back against the wall. “What did you do?”
“They’re here to take you to a private asylum. Baby, it’s the only way.”
“I’m not crazy. I didn’t shoot you! This is all just a trick. One of your twisted games.”
“Look at me!” He pointed to his bloodied chest wound. “Look at your dress. Are you telling me you don’t remember walking down the aisle? The vows before the bishop? You, holding that gun?”
I slid along the wall as I inched away from him. He knew damn well I remembered those things. I just couldn’t remember if they were real.
