Chapter 47 Off-Limits
TRIGGER WARNING: NON-CONSENSUAL TOUCHING
(This chapter contains intimate physical contact without consent. Reader discretion is advised.)
Lena stared at her laptop screen for a long time, her mind trying to process the headline.
A scornful laugh burst from her lips.
“No way.”
She exited the page, and then clicked on it again.
The same image loaded. The same disbelieving headline.
“No freaking way,” she muttered, half laughing, half stunned. “What…? After all that?”
Her smile slowly died into a mocking smirk. She zoomed in on the picture, eyes narrowing.
She scoffed. “Eve, needs to see this.” She said with a glint in her eyes, as she reached out for her phone to call her best friend.
The call went through. Her phone rang for a while. Then—
“BEEP!”
The call ended, without being answered.
Lena frowned slightly and called again.
“BEEP!!”
The call ended.
Lena's frown deepens.
“Strange. Eve always answers after the first ring…” She stared at her phone. “Or… she’s busy?”
She hesitated, then sighed.
“Okay. One last try. She really needs to see this.”
She called again.
This time the call picked up.
Lena opened her mouth immediately—
“Oh you finally answered, I was getting worri—”
“Lyn is asleep.”
A deep, masculine voice cut through her words.
Lena froze so hard her spine went stiff.
Her heart shot up her throat.
“…Erhm.” She stood up without realizing. “Mr… Roman?” she asked, just to be sure, her voice small.
“Hm.”
Lena swallowed. She hesitated for a while, then asked, “Is— is my friend okay?”
That low hum was enough to confirm it.
Lena swallowed hard. “Is… is my friend okay?”
Silence stretched on the other end. Her palm immediately became slippery with sweat.
“I—I mean—” she stammered.
“She’s fine,” Roman said, voice flat.
“I’ll let her know you called when she wakes up.”
Then the line went dead.
‘Beeeeep.’
Lena stared at her phone for three seconds straight.
Then she let out the breath she’d been holding.
“So scary,” she muttered.
She hadn’t met Roman Sinclair in person, but she knew his reputation. And because she was Lena, she’d tried digging him up the moment he married Evelyn—just to be safe.
She found nothing.
Nothing beyond what the media already knew.
That was what frightened her.
Because even rich men had traces. Even powerful men had dirt somewhere.
Roman Sinclair had… none.
Worse—when she asked around in her deeper tech circles, she got one response:
Roman Sinclair was declared off-limits.
There were only a handful of people in the world who could be declared off-limits even at the highest levels of tech access. Which meant one thing.
Either you controlled the system…
Or you were the reason the system existed.
Since then, an instinctive fear had settled in her chest, tangled with an undeniable respect.
Fear, because he was like a puzzle designed to appear simple. He gave the illusion of being an open book, yet there was nothing there. He only allowed you to see what he wanted you to see.
And there was nothing you could do about it.
Lena didn’t want to scare Evelyn with that, so she kept it to herself.
As long as he treated her well, and Evelyn never complained, she could keep calm.
The man was untouchable. If he decided tomorrow he was a politician, the records would show he’d always been one. Every other version of him would disappear. He existed exactly as he chose to.
And you can't do anything about it, cause he's off limits.
—-
Rosewood Manor
Roman set Evelyn’s phone down on the bedside table and stared at her sleeping face for a moment.
She was breathing evenly. Her face looked peaceful, and calm.
Then he went to shower, making sure to wash off any trace of antiseptic or hospital scent him.
He remained in the shower for a while, the hot water doing nothing to ease the tension coiling in his gut.
After, he emerged in just pajama pants, a warm, damp towel in hand. He returned to the bed and began wiping Evelyn’s skin with tenderly. He did it so well, and skilfully.
When he was done, he fetched one of his own crisp, white button-down shirts from the wardrobe. He carefully took off Evelyn's clothes, everything, including her underwear, until she was completely naked.
He stared at her for a while as if conflicted, his gaze dark and half lidded.
Without hesitation, he placed two fingers against her skin, applying measured pressure, to quiet the nerves beneath. Within moments, her body relaxed further, sensation dulled enough that nothing would pull her awake.
He leaned over her. His breath fanned her neck before his lips settled there. He bit down gently, then sucked lightly, drawing the flesh between his lips, tongue flicking.
After a while, he released it with a wet pop, gazing at the faint red mark blooming there.
And like that, he continued, from her neck, down to her collar bones, to the curve of her breast, the soft plane of her stomach, the tender skin of her inner thighs. When he was finished, he drew back.
Evelyn was still sleeping soundly, unaffected by what the hickeys he was giving her.
Roman gazed at her body, admiring the red blooming marks he gave her.
He picked up the shirt and began dressing her, sliding her arms into the sleeves. He was fastening the buttons over her chest when a knock sounded at the door.
His fingers stilled. A flash of icy irritation crossed his face before he smoothed it away and finished buttoning the shirt. He went to the door and opened it.
As soon as the door clicked open, Mrs Chen who was about to leave, immediately turned around, her face greatly troubled.
“Young Master! Is… is the young miss alright? Is she awake? I brought warm milk. I’m so sorry—I shouldn’t have spoken of your condition earlier. The shock must have been too much for her, with the baby and all…” she rambled, wringing her hands.
Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. “How much,” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet, “did you tell her?”
Mrs. Chen trembled all over at his cold tone.
“N-nothing else! Just that you used to faint sometimes! I didn’t say anything more than that! I swear!” she said, breathing heavily.
Roman’s jaw clenched. “Good. This is your only warning. You will not speak of it again. Not a word. In fact,” he said, taking the glass of milk from her hands, his gaze extremely frightening. Gone was the facade he normally puts on, “today never happened. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, Master.” Mrs Chen said bowing slightly.
“Good.” He shut the door in her face.
Back inside, he placed the milk on the nightstand. He carefully arranged Evelyn, propping her upper body against his chest. He brushed her hair aside and began feeding her the warm milk, sip by slow sip, until half was gone.
He didn’t move, letting her lean against him. He reached out to set the empty glass back on the table.
As his fingers left the smooth surface, a deafening, high-pitched ringing exploded inside his skull.
AHHHH!!!
A silent scream tore through him. His face contorted in pain. The hand that had just held the glass flailed out, knocking it from the table. It hit the wooden floor, shattering.