Chapter 2 - The Silence in the Silk
The cool night air of Chicago hit us as we stepped out of the hotel.
The valet had our black SUV idling at the curb before we even reached the door.
Roman didn't wait for the driver to open the door for me.
He did it himself, his hand steady as he guided me inside.
The interior of the car was a sanctuary of leather and shadows.
As the door closed, the muffled sounds of the city disappeared.
Roman sat beside me, his presence filling the space.
He didn't speak for a long time.
He just watched the lights of the city blur past the tinted windows.
I clutched his jacket tighter around my chest.
The silver fabric of my gown was still hanging in shreds beneath it.
“You should have told me you were going to serve,” he finally said.
His voice was thick with suppressed emotion.
“I told you I was volunteering, Roman.”
“I didn't think I needed to give you a play-by-play of my duties.”
He turned to me, his jaw tight.
“You shouldn't have been in a position where someone like that could touch you.”
“I wasn't in a position,” I argued softly.
“I was in a ballroom. Surrounded by people who claim to be civilized.”
“Civilized people are the most dangerous, Clara.”
“They hide their knives behind smiles.”
“At least my enemies in the streets have the decency to aim for the front.”
I reached out and placed my hand over his.
His skin was hot, his pulse racing.
“You can't protect me from everything, Roman.”
“I’m your wife, not your prisoner.”
“Then let me be your shield,” he countered.
“I am trying to change. For you.”
“But when I see you standing there, being treated like… like that…”
He slammed his fist against the armrest.
The sound echoed in the small cabin.
“I wanted to take her hand off,” he whispered.
“I know,” I said. “And that’s why I’m here.”
“To make sure you don’t.”
He looked at me then, really looked at me.
The fear in his eyes was something very few people ever saw.
He wasn't afraid of the law or his rivals.
He was afraid of losing the piece of himself that I held.
“Sloane Harrington is a nobody,” I said.
“She’s a woman who thinks money is a personality.”
“She didn't take anything from me that matters.”
Roman leaned in, his forehead resting against mine.
“She took your peace, Clara.”
“And in my world, that’s a debt that has to be paid.”
I knew there was no point in arguing further.
When Roman talked about debts, he wasn't talking about money.
He was talking about the balance of power.
By humiliating me, Sloane had challenged his authority.
Even if I forgave her, the city wouldn't.
The car pulled into the long driveway of our estate.
The iron gates swung open silently, like the jaws of a great beast.
The house was dark, save for the lights in the foyer.
As we stepped inside, Roman signaled to his head of security, Marcus.
“Find out everything about the Whitmore company,” Roman ordered.
“Every loan, every investor, every secret.”
“I want them dismantled by sunrise.”
“Roman, no,” I started.
He held up a hand.
“The social ban was for the gala, Clara.”
“The business move is for me.”
“Nobody touches what is mine and continues to prosper.”
He looked at me, his eyes dark and resolute.
“Go upstairs. Have a bath. I’ll be up shortly.”
I watched him walk into his study, the doors closing with a heavy thud.
The "waitress" from the gala was gone.
May you like
And the man I loved was slipping back into the shadows to protect her.
***
