Avah's pov
I found him leaning against an expensive Rolls Royce, his demeanor relaxed as though this was all perfectly normal. I, on the other hand, was freaking out, starting to rethink this entire thing.
"Good morning," he said with a sly smile.
"Morning," my voice cracked.
"Would you like some water or coffee? I bought both," he said, opening my side of the door.
I slid into the seat, and he followed. This was a different car from yesterday. How many cars does this guy have? How rich was he?
"Coffee would be great," I answered.
He handed me a hot cup of coffee. Upon tasting it, I realized it was exactly how I liked it—black with two sugars. How did he know?
"Good job on the coffee."
"You're welcome."
The car started moving, and that's when I noticed two other people in the car besides us. The guy I assumed was his assistant, since I had seen him three times already, and the other must be his personal driver.
"How did you know how I took my coffee?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He smirked, leaning back against the seat like this was the easiest question in the world. "I pay attention."
I frowned. Pay attention? We had only met twice, and one of those times we were both drugged. The idea of him paying attention to such a small detail felt... strange.
"That's a little creepy, don't you think?" I pressed, trying to keep my tone light.
He chuckled, low and rich. "Not creepy. Efficient."
Efficient? The word lingered in my mind, and I couldn't decide if it was impressive or unnerving.
I sipped the coffee again, the warmth settling my nerves for a moment. "Where are we going, anyway?"
"To get the paperwork started," he answered casually, as though this was the most normal morning errand.
"Paperwork? For what?" My grip on the cup tightened.
He turned his head slightly, his piercing gaze locking with mine. "Our marriage, of course."
I nearly choked on the coffee. "You're kidding."
"Do I look like the kind of man who jokes?" he replied, one brow arched.
No, he didn't. That was the problem.
"Roman, this is insane! You can't just decide something like that without even asking me!" I exclaimed, my voice rising.
He remained calm, completely unbothered by my outburst. "You agreed to it yesterday."
I froze, replaying yesterday's events in my mind. His grandfather's commanding presence, the overwhelming situation... Did I agree? Had I been too shocked to argue?
"That wasn't agreeing," I finally muttered. "That was being cornered."
He leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable. "Avah, you can say no. But let me warn you—saying no might not be as simple as you think."
There it was again, that ominous tone that made my stomach drop. I opened my mouth to respond but hesitated. What did he mean by that? Was it a threat or a warning?
The rest of the ride passed in silence, tension hanging heavy in the air. When we finally stopped, I felt like I could breathe again, until I saw the tall, elegant building in front of us.
It wasn't just any office. It was the city's most prestigious law firm.
My sense of doom came rushing back.
He opened my side of the door and stepped outside, a move so casual, so practiced, that it made me feel even more out of place. Suddenly, my legs felt like they were made of jelly, and I nearly tripped, but before I could even react, his arm was around my waist, steadying me. His touch was firm, his hand warm against my skin, and the sheer force of it made my breath catch.
Like a lamb being led to the slaughterhouse.
His assistant trailed behind, holding some documents in his hands, but my attention was entirely on Roman. As we stepped into the elevator, he pressed the button for the top floor. My pulse quickened, and my stomach twisted in a knot. This was it. The moment I'd been dreading ever since his grandfather's demand to marry me.
The elevator moved slowly, each floor rising in a relentless motion that mirrored my spiraling thoughts. My heart thudded, loud enough that I could hear the beat in my ears, almost drowning out everything else. What was I doing here? Why was I going along with this? Marrying him? A man I barely knew, simply because he had saved me twice. It felt insane, but more than that, it felt like a choice I didn't have the freedom to make.
I could feel the sweat building on my palms, a cold sheen that I tried to rub away on my clothes. But the nervous tension wouldn't leave. My body was screaming at me to flee, to run as far away as I could from this moment, but I knew, deep down, that I couldn't. Not from him. Not from what he was asking me to do.
The elevator doors opened, and the first instinct in my body was to turn and bolt. But his hand around my waist, a possessive grip that wasn't letting go, prevented me from even moving. He pulled me toward him again, our bodies aligning until we were chest to chest, his warmth seeping into my skin, his presence enveloping me.
"You can't run from me, Avah," he whispered, his breath warm on my ear. The words sent a shiver down my spine. There was no doubt in his voice, no hesitation, just certainty. As if he knew that no matter how much I wanted to, I wasn't going anywhere.
"I... I can't do this," I blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush. I needed to tell him. I needed to make him understand the panic flooding me, the way my mind was screaming for me to stop this, to turn back. But my voice faltered, and the words felt like they were being smothered before they could even leave my mouth.
I tried to shove him away, but he was like a stone wall. My hands pushed against him, but he didn't budge. It was futile. My breath was coming faster, my chest tightening in a vice. This was too much. The pressure was overwhelming, and I felt myself slipping, felt like I was losing control over everything.
Then he grabbed my wrists with one hand, his fingers curling around them so tightly I couldn't move. With his other hand, he gently but forcefully pushed me against the wall, his body blocking any chance of escape. His eyes were dark, intense and predatory locked onto mine, and it was as if I were trapped in his gaze. He was looking at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered, like I was the prize he had been hunting for. And the power of that stare made my heart race even faster.
Without a word, he kissed me.
It wasn't just a kiss, it was like he was trying to consume me, to take me in completely. His lips were urgent, his mouth hot and demanding. I froze at first, but then something inside me snapped. My lips parted, just slightly, and that was all it took. He kissed me deeper, his tongue tracing the edges of my mouth, coaxing me to respond.
For a moment, all the panic, all the fear, faded into the background. It was just the heat of his kiss, the press of his body against mine, the taste of him on my lips. It felt like drowning and suffocating, and yet, there was something strangely comforting about it. As if, for a fleeting moment, I could forget everything else, forget the choices that were being made for me, forget the past that was slipping through my fingers. All that mattered was this kiss. This impossible, overwhelming kiss.
He pulled away, his lips lingering just above mine. We were both panting, breathless, as if we had both just run a marathon.
He placed his forehead against mine, his eyes closing for a brief moment, and I saw something there, something I hadn't expected. Vulnerability. Worry. Was he as scared as I was?
"I'll treat you like the Queen you're meant to be," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "So please, don't run away."
His words, his plea, made something inside me shift. I had expected arrogance, control, but in that moment, he seemed just as human as I was. His anxiety, his fear, mirrored mine, and it made me feel a little less alone in all of this. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as certain as he appeared. Maybe he needed this marriage as much as I did.
Before I could overthink it further, before I could talk myself out of it, I nodded. And in that small, simple gesture, I felt a strange relief settle over me, like a burden had been lifted, even if only for a moment.
For better or worse, I had made my choice.