He sits me down on the bench just so he can change his grip on me and tosses me over his shoulder.
I let my head hang and close my eyes as he carries me out of the locker room. It sounds less crowded in here now, but voices, of people and the shuffling of their feet as they move around us still pierce my ears. Most of them say something to Roman as we pass, congratulating him and complimenting him on the fight. Roman never, not even once, replies. It’s not surprising, though. He doesn’t seem like the type to stick around and have a conversation with any of his fans.
When we finally step outside and the cool air caresses my heated skin, I sigh, thankful to just be out of that insane asylum. All I want is to go back to Roman’s house and forget about tonight, forget about the things Roman said. A second later, he opens a car door and deposits me in the backseat.
I barely pull my feet inside before he slams the door shut.
“You okay?” Mac asks me from the driver's seat. There's a look of concern in his soft eyes, and the tense body language he’s giving off confirms his worry further. I wonder if this is common behavior for Roman or if he’s just being this way with me.
“Yes,” I whisper, hating the way my voice sounds.
Roman gets into the passenger side with a grunt and slams the door just as hard as he did mine. The air in the car is so thick, it could be cut with a knife.
Mac pulls out of the parking lot, and no one dares to say a word the entire drive back to Roman’s house.
When we get to the house, there are two cars I don’t recognize parked in the driveway. The guys don't seem alarmed by them being there, so I just get out of the car and follow them into the house.
“Go to your room, lock the door, and stay the fuck in there for the rest for of the night,” Roman orders without even looking at me. I watch him walk in the direction of the living room, having half the mind to tell him to fuck off and follow him. But I’m not that stupid. There’s clearly something going on with him today, and even though I don’t understand what it is, I don’t want to push him. Instead, I head to my bedroom without any further questions.
“Seriously, Roman,” Mac grumbles behind me. I do as instructed and walk into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind me. I strip out of my clothes and go straight into the shower. I want to wash everything off me—all the smells of that awful place clinging to my skin like gooey tar.
I turn the water on, twist the knob to hot, then step into the spray and melt beneath the nearly boiling water. The tension seeps out of my muscles. I stand there for a long while, letting the water beat against my back before I reach for the bar of soap. I scrub myself from head to toe and wash my hair, massaging my scalp with my fingers.
I can’t stop thinking about the things Roman said. About how I wanted him even when he was being an asshole...about how he said his brother should’ve just sent me back whenever I came from.
The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I escaped a life ruled by my angry father, following his strict rules, only to be thrust into another dark world. I may not be completely caged, but I’m still being ordered around. I don’t want that kind of life. I don’t want to be controlled by a man.
Rinsing my hair, I decide I need to do what I want to do. Roman can order me around all he wants, but he doesn’t own me. He doesn’t control my future.
I get out of the shower and dry off, looking at my reflection in the mirror. My cheek is bruised from the left corner of my lip up toward my eye. It looks horrible and hurts like hell, but soon, it will be nothing more than another scar and memory.
I go back into my room and pull out the first outfit I find from the dresser. After I’m dressed, I contemplate what to do next. I’m not ready to go out and face anybody yet, especially Roman. I throw myself onto the bed and curl up in a ball, trying to forget the events of this entire day. Unfortunately, it’s hard to clear my mind with loud music booming through the normally quiet house. My walls vibrate as the rap music pulses through me, like I’m standing right next to the damn speaker.
I rub at my temples. This is a much different problem than I’m used to having. Usually I’m all alone, the silence surrounding me, but tonight, there is no silence inside my head, nor in this house.
Stepping out of my room, I march through the house on a mission...even though I’m not sure what that mission is yet. I follow the sounds of the music underlined with talking and laughing. The noises get louder as I move farther down the hall. Knowing they are having a party right now infuriates me beyond measure.
How dare they celebrate Roman killing a man.
My fists are clenched and my jaw is tight when I enter the large living space people have gathered in. My eyes scan the crowd of maybe fifty, but I don’t see Roman or Mac. I do, however, spot Devin, his mouth attached to some busty blonde sitting on his lap. I almost turn around and run back to my room when some random guy appears next to me. I look him up and down. He’s handsome, but simple looking, nothing like Roman.
“Hey,” he greets, giving me a friendly smile, revealing perfectly white, straight teeth. “I feel like I’ve never seen you at one of Roman’s parties before.” He shakes his head before answering his own question. “Nah, I would definitely remember a pretty face like yours.”
“Hi,” is all I can muster. His smile widens, as if he appreciates my timidity, and my insides tighten. This is new territory for me. Guys, talking, dating. I’ve never done any of those things, but I have the desire to do them, eventually.
“You look like you could use a drink.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond to him. “Come on. We’ll get you something.” Putting his hand gently against my lower back, he ushers me to the kitchen, which is now a makeshift bar.
“Uh, thanks…” I walk with him, even though I really don’t want to. His hand on my lower back, however innocent the touch might seem, makes me uneasy.
I look around the room once more, not even thinking about it as I search for Roman. Even now, I search him out for protection. Even after everything that has happened today, after all the horrible things he said to me, I still want him near me. I want him to make me feel safe. I want his arms wrapped around me. I worry I might be growing obsessed, but I’m in his care and want to be near him.
When we get to the kitchen, I look up at the man with his hand on my back and watch him pour me something to drink. He smiles again, and I’m certain it’s genuine. I can’t help but wonder if there is something wrong with me. Why would I only feel safe with Roman? He obviously doesn't care about me. He is mean and unapologetic, so why does he mean so much to me? I just wish I didn't feel like I need him.
“I’m Ryan, by the way,” he introduces himself, handing me the glass.
“Sophie.” I reach for the glass and take a small sip. A strong alcohol taste mixed with some fruit juice hits my tongue and burns down my throat, filling my belly with warmth.
“Good?” Ryan lifts a brow, his smile very much still intact.
I give him a half smile and take another sip. He watches me for a long moment before guiding us toward the patio doors that lead out into the backyard. Red flags go up in my mind. I dig my feet into the tile floor to stop us from moving forward.
“Wait…” I stop him, panic gnawing at me. “Why don't we just stay inside?”