We stayed like that for a while. I wanted to hold him until all of the pain left both of us.

I knew he was hurting from the slight betrayal, even though it wasn’t his fault; and I was just forever spinning and spinning downward into a mindset that I wasn’t familiar with. It resided somewhere in jealousy, but it was different. It was something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Whatever it was, I needed to leave.

Eventually, we left the office and headed back downstairs to the dining room for breakfast. I couldn’t even think about eating at a time like that, but I knew that I needed to at least try and pretend things were okay. Some little part of me thought that, if I pretended I was okay, that eventually, whether it was later in that day or the next, that it would make it a reality. The other part of me, the majority, knew that I was majorly upset and wouldn’t feel okay until something radical was done about it.

What was there that could be said or done to make it any better, though? I knew he hadn’t meant to, and that Jessica was just a vile and equally jealous woman.

No, it felt like a "me" problem. I needed to just wallow for a bit, get it out of my system, and maybe it would eventually fade. I really hoped it did, because it was so uncomfortable that I could have crawled out of my own skin. That was no way to feel in your own home.

Geoffrey set our plates in front of us, and I did my best to focus on the food and enjoy the meal, but all I could think about was other women on his arm. About him discarding me like yesterday’s newspaper. I was young, I knew, but I suddenly imagined myself seeming old to him. Like a child with a toy—the way their interest died after just a few weeks or a few months. When I thought about it, I could envision the subtle changes. Working later and later, spending a little less time together as each day passed. Roman’s temper getting shorter when I asked a couple of questions.

Things turning into nothing more than a roommates-who-sleep-together situation, before it finally became totally empty and no sex. Just two strangers bumping into one another in the halls occasionally. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Was that what my future would be? Was that what married life had in store for me? My stomach was turning at an alarming rate, making it hard to even think about getting food past my lips.

"Hannah? You okay?" Roman asked from across the table.

"I’m fine," I replied shortly.

There was a pause, but I still didn’t look up from my plate. I continued to push the food around as I mustered the willpower to swallow any of it.

"It’s just... You haven’t said much since what happened. I want to be sure we are on the same page," Roman finally spoke, his voice staying at a gentle and comfortable level. He could tell I wasn’t acting the same, and he was treating me with the gentleness that told me he was worried I would break.

For some reason, that pissed me off. Even though I knew how gutted I had been to witness them kiss, it still struck a nerve in me. Maybe because I had been weak, folding like a house of cards at the sight of the kiss, and now I was being treated like that was who I was as a person.

"If I said I’m fine, that means I’m fine," I reiterated to Roman, doing my best to hold it together.

There was a tense silence then, but I didn’t care. The little embers of anger I had felt were suddenly sparking to life and setting me on fire. Each time he tried to get me to talk about it, it only fanned the flames.

I finally managed to get bites of food into my mouth, but I didn’t even taste it. I was just mashing the food with my teeth and swallowing in hopes that it would somehow dampen the fire growing inside of me. It didn’t, but it was a little bit of a distraction.

I could tell by the thick silence that he wanted to ask again. That he didn’t want to let the conversation just die. But what would talking about it do? All I could think about was the nauseating circles we would go in if I agreed to talk about it. He would assure me again and again, in new and slightly different ways, how he didn’t even like Jessica. He would drone on about the importance of the mission and how he thought he was doing right by the investigation. I knew all that and I could rationally understand it. This was an emotional issue, and he was just going to have to give me time to sort it on my own. I needed him to understand that and not push me anymore.

My thoughts were running fast enough to make me dizzy all on their own. I fought through it. While I might not have had the gumption to do anything but fold when I was confronted by Jessica, I was going to be tougher. I was going to stand up for myself and do what I wanted to do. I didn’t know how I was going to go about it, but I knew I was going to stick to my guns.

I felt incensed and I didn’t have the foresight to know it was going to pass. I was in the thick of my emotions and didn’t think there was a way out. Would I feel like this for the rest of mine and Roman’s relationship? Wouldn’t that just be self-sabotage? My mind wouldn’t stop going. It was a never ending circuit of anger, jealousy, and stubbornness.

"Hannah," Roman began, but I put a stop to it.

"Enough. I don’t want to talk about the kiss anymore. If I did, I would. I already said that, I think. Just drop it," I snapped.

My words were staccato, snippy, and to the point. It was only for a second that I felt good about it. In the next moment, I felt remorse.

He was only trying to be a good husband. However, things felt complicated and messy at that point. Maybe it was best that I was just alone for a little while until I could sort my head out.

I stood from the table and, without a word, I walked off. It might not have been the best decision, but I wasn’t in control of my emotions right then and was worried that anything I said would come out just as harsh as what I had just said—or, I would start crying. Neither was ideal. Neither was going to happen. Hurrying upstairs to our room, I sank down on one of the arm chairs and put my head in my hands. I resisted the urge to groan, though I wasn’t sure why.

I needed to do something to clear my head, to shake off this uncomfortable and antsy feeling. Thinking was a dangerous game, though. As soon as I would start trying to think of an idea, my mind would be bombarded with sour thoughts.

How I was a fool to pine over a billionaire playboy, how I would be so embarrassed and made into a laughing stock when things went south. How it was only a matter of time before he started lusting after other women for real.

None of it was rooted in reality, all of it was founded in a crippling anxiety that I never knew I had. It was so new to me, that it took me that long to understand I was feeling that way because it was the first time I was really facing the fear of Roman leaving me. Not through tragic accidents, like a hit being put on his head, but by choice.

Roman had the choice to leave me for good and never look back, and I would be left heartbroken and shattered.

I had never thought about a man having that much control over me, not emotionally at least. My mind reeled back to when he bought me at the auction and wouldn’t give up on the notion that, while he had bought me to free me, he really hadn’t.

Roman Thaddeus made me fall in love with him through no action other than kindness and gentle but protective nature, and I was going to be a slave to my emotions because of it. It was a weird way to think about it, but it didn’t make it any less true.

My fingers gripped at the roots of my hair and I finally let out the groan that I had been holding in.

I needed to get out of there, just for a little while. I needed to do something to get all of the hurt and anxiety out of me so we could get back to normal. What was there to do about it, though?