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"𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭"

When I awoke the next morning, my lungs were burning, but my head was lighter and the headache I had expected wasn't there—thanks to the medicine Roman had given me.

Much to my dismay, Roman was also not present when I awakened. He left me a short sticky note stating that he would return in an hour.

I had washed my face and then brushed my teeth with a spare toothbrush. After that, I made it a point to phone my brother and tell him what had occurred.

Mentioning it last night just felt wrong. I didn't want to ruin his night by causing him a heart attack, and I honestly just felt like complete shit after the whole gas thing.

So, when I called him this morning and told him—he was not happy. I told him the whole incident and had to reassure him that I was fine multiple times.

He appeared genuinely grateful for Roman at the time, which made me happy that he was warming up to him.

I had to persuade him not to inform our parents several times as well. My father, together with Roman, were already dealing with the matter. I didn't need to give him anything else to add.

Besides, I would have had extra security and my mother, as well as everyone else, would not leave my side. At this moment my parents thought that I was spending the day with Kara—so they weren't suspicious at all.

When he finally gave in, I thanked him profusely and assured him that Roman was keeping me safe. He believed it and soon let it go.

After a half-hour conversation with him, I decided to take a look around the house.

I invaded upon doors, creeping in the room when I saw nothing but nothingness. My feet scampered up another flight of steps, leading to another vacant corridor.

I skipped down the hall to a large door placed at the end.

The door was open, and when it widened my eyes gleamed when I saw it wasn't just an empty room.

The room had the appearance of an office—his office. I was surprised to see how clean and tidy it was as I walked through.

A big and long oak wood desk sat in the centre of the room. Behind it, a deep-brown leather chair rested.

Papers were arranged in black and white folders down one side of the desk, while a single tin cup had three black, one blue, and one red pen.

I sat down in the leather chair across from me. I spun around it immaturely—I've always appreciated spinning chairs.

When I twirled around, my eyes caught onto something flashing in the corner of the room.

My brows wrinkled when I observed a sheet of glass hiding beneath a tiny table.

Sitting up from the chair, I cautiously walked over to the glimmer.

The sun shone through the curtain and flashed the glass, compelling my hand to wrap around it and remove it from its hiding place.

My lips parted as I realised it was a photo frame.

As I took a step back, my gaze was drawn to the photograph.

The setting was placed on a beach, and the background reminded me of Venice, Italy. My gaze shifted lower in the image, towards the two figures.

A beautiful woman stood in the sand, facing the sea. Her one-piece costume was outlined beneath the fading white linen of her long sundress.

Her black hair cascaded down her sides and around the top of her head, which was topped with a beach hat.

Her skin had an olive-golden sheen to it as if it were gleaming in the European sun. Brown freckles speckled her straight nose and drew higher up her cheeks.

Her lips were full and rosy, and she smiled widely.

When I glanced at her eyes, I noticed that they were a blend of green and brown—amber. That's when I spotted the other individual.

A small boy, around four or five years old, sat propped up on her hip.

Small swimming shorts and a bright red t-shirt were worn. On his head, a thick mass of soft black curls sat untamed.

The boy had a toothy smile on his face, revealing the two missing front teeth. His chubby cheeks made him look absolutely adorable.

When I looked towards the small familiar amber eyes, my heart melted as I realised it was Roman.

As I took in the image, the woman and the boy, my eyes widened. Assuming the pretty woman was his mother and the child was Roman.

A hand had swiftly snatched the frame from my grip and placed it face down on the desk before I could look any farther into the photo.

My eyes grew wide as I turned my head up to the figure in front of me.

In front of me appeared the same cheerful boy from the photograph, but he was much taller, strong, and manly.

Ultimately, he was also not happy—no, he held an expressionless face with intensely cold eyes, which were directed right at me.

I blushed in humiliation and looked everywhere but him as I took a step back from his brutally cold self.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean—

"It's fine." He abruptly cut me off. My gaze returned to him; he had become considerably colder and distant towards me.

He walked back over to the door and held it open for me, facing away from me. As I moved around the desk, I realised that he wasn't looking at me—instead, he was staring blankly out the door.

My palms began to sweat as I walked right past him and waited in the hall for him.

He swung the door around after closing it and locking it with a key. He walked right past me and down the hall without even looking at me.

My heart thumped loudly as my suddenly weak legs followed him down.

Good going, Arabella.

I mentally advised myself to never snoop around in someone's house again. The shame and anxiety I felt right now were undoubtedly out through the window.

I paused against the threshold, following him to his room, and saw him take my phone and bag for me.

Taking his keys into his hand, he glanced over at me once and then looked away as he spoke.

"You ready?"

Nodding my head, I stepped aside and walked with him back down the hall and towards the front door.

As we walked to his car, I observed him from the corner of my eye. He was keeping a greater distance from me; I could tell he was upset, but that upset to the point of not touching me.

It made me wonder if the whole incident was just an extension to his bad mood—or if anything had happened before he found me in his office.

Only noticing that we made it to the car, he had opened the door for me and patiently waited for me to get in.

I climbed into the seat as he shut the door behind me. To get rid of the sweat on my palms, I brushed my hands over my thighs anxiously.

When he made it into the car, he turned it on and almost immediately pressed onto the accelerator and sped out.

At this point, my mind was racing with questions. Along with my heart.

I glanced over at him from the corner of my eye as we entered the freeway.

Angry Roman was matter of factly, hot. If it wasn't me he was upset with, I'd be completely turned on by it.

His hold on the steering wheel was not strong enough, but it wasn't loose either. His legs were spread out in front of him, leaving a huge space between them.

One arm slid comfortably over the steering wheel, while the other sat in the middle, laidback. My gaze was drawn to his features, jaw clenching and cold eyes gazing longingly at the road.

Before he could catch me, I averted my gaze. We landed at a red light, and for the first time in a while, his voice spoke up.

"Did you eat?" He asked, bluntly.

When I responded with a shake of my head, I didn't look at him.

"I'm not hungry," My tone was a lot lower and softer than I anticipated.

I caught a glimpse of his long glance before he scoffed and shook his head and sped past the green light.

"Cazzate." He mumbled under his breath.

Translation: "Bullshit."

As we travelled, I became aware that we were not on our way home. Instead, he stopped at a Dunkin' Donuts drive-through.

Regardless of the situation, I smiled within. He leant his arm on the windowsill as he lowered down the window.

Turning to me, he nodded once towards the speaker—silently asking me what I wanted.

"A chocolate muffin and a Vanilla milkshake, please." I mumbled while watching my fingers trace patterns along my thigh.

As soon as he takes his gaze away from me, he informs the person, who instructs us to proceed. I reached inside my purse for cash, but Roman simply took it from me and tossed it in the back seat.

My lips parted as I stared at him in disbelief. He got his card out nonchalantly and handed it to the lady who wasn't so discreetly eye-fucking him.

She took the card, tapped it, and then returned it to Roman. The food arrived a minute later, and she continued to gaze at him while delivering it to him, though he never noticed and simply handed me my food.

I thanked him, and he quickly rolled the window up and exited the drive-thru.

I ate my muffin gracefully and sipped my cold milkshake while silence filled the car once more.

By the time we arrived back at my house, I had finished.

Roman stopped the car right at the front of the house. His car was fully tinted, so no one could see inside even if they tried.

I unbuckled my belt and took all of my belongings with me. But I hadn't gotten out yet. Instead, I sat silently in my seat, pondering what to say.

When I looked back at him, he was facing the front, both arms rested at his sides, and he was leant back staring coldly.

I couldn't handle it any longer. My arms rushed out from my sides and hugged around his neck, enclosing him.

My head was buried in his neck as he became utterly still.

"I'm sorry for making you mad," I mumbled into his neck.

I heard him sigh deeply, his hands slowly wrapping around my waist and his head falling into my neck.

"It's not your fault, Amore," He muttered against my neck. I blinked, but quickly shrugged it off, content to be in the moment with him.

"Can you not be mad at me anymore, please?" I mumbled again. As I waited for his response, my heart pounded beneath me.

He pulled back, facing me. He caressed my cheek with his fingers and stared at me intently.

"I wasn't mad at you," He affirmed, and glanced towards something behind me.

I scrunched up my face and gave him a funny look.

"Are you sure? Because it seemed like you were..." I rambled.

He gave me a blank look and shook his head. "No."

"I promise." He kissed my cheek and lingered on the spot.

I blushed unintentionally and allowed him to hold me for longer.

He lingered in my embrace for a long time, despite the fact that it was usually me who would be hugging him to death—though he appeared to appreciate staying in my arms.

That made me frown. He seemed off. Though I assumed it was due to his mood, I had a feeling it wasn't.

"What's wrong?" I murmured as I ran my hand through his hair.

His breathing on my neck had stopped for a moment.

"I have to leave," He stated.

I blushed and moved away from him, looking at him sheepishly.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to—

I yelped as he hauled me back and crushed me into his chest, burying his head in my neck again.

"Leave New York, Ella." I froze completely.

Suddenly I felt my heart drop just the slightest but quickly picked it back up as I thought it wouldn't be anything other than a week or two.

"How long?" I inquired, a little hesitantly.

He slowly turned around to face me. I was surprised to see the small emotion on his face.

I was completely perplexed by his hesitation and faint worry in his gaze. His brows creased slightly, making me want to smooth the crease with my fingers.

The emotion was small but there.

"Four months." He replied in a deep whisper.

Then my heart began to sink once more. This time, though, it was not picked up.

"You're leaving for four months," I repeated, my voice in a whisper as his was—while I tried to comprehend what was happening.

He didn't say anything and just stared at me, impassively.

"Why?" I questioned, really the only thing I could say. Physically, I could feel the sadness emoting me.

He licked his lips and shifted his gaze behind my head, away from me.

"Business, Amore."

I sighed deeply and shifted my weight away from him. He frowned and looked back at me—though I turned away and pulled my legs up to my chin.

My thoughts raced.

He was leaving. Leaving New York, leaving school, leaving me.

Maybe I was exaggerating. It was merely a four-month period. Very long and utterly pointless four months. Without him, I felt alone.

It was strange; I had never expected to feel this way about anybody or anything, but I did, and I did for him.

Maybe my emotions were heightened at the moment or potentially it was the anguish of him leaving but it just felt wrong, and my heart hurt.

I've become way too attached, or perhaps I've gone beyond that. I wouldn't be around him, feel his presence, or even speak to him in person. It was just resentful.

And for business? He had to leave because of work. But I understood—my father travels away every now and then, accompanied by my mother.

Though not for four whole months.

And now with all this thinking, my head started to ache.

I continued to stare directly into space.

What if I—

No, I couldn't.

"Ella." I continued to look away from him, my gaze now shifting from the dashboard to my feet.

And then he spoke again. His words leaving me utterly astonished but driven. It surprised me because it was exactly what I was contemplating in thinking only moments before.

"Come with me."