Chapter 6 - The Choice Roman Never Expected
Three weeks later, Roman placed annulment papers in front of me.
We were sitting in the same library where he had confronted Grant.
“You signed them?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I turned the pages.
Everything was prepared.
No financial demands.
No restrictions.
No conditions.
“You’re giving me the Westchester house?”
“It belongs to you.”
“Technically—”
“Evelyn.”
I stopped.
Roman leaned back.
“I’m not negotiating.”
“That may be the first time anyone has accused Roman Caruso of being generous.”
“Don’t spread it around.”
I smiled.
He didn’t.
“You can leave today.”
I studied him.
“And if I do?”
“You’ll have security as long as you want it.”
“And if I don’t?”
Roman’s eyes met mine.
“That’s more complicated.”
“How?”
He stood.
For a man who could terrify a room with silence, Roman suddenly looked strangely uncomfortable.
“I don’t know how to make this marriage normal.”
“Normal sounds boring.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He walked toward the window.
“I threatened you at our wedding.”
“Yes.”
“I married you to punish a dead man.”
“Yes.”
“I ordered you around constantly.”
“You still do.”
He glanced back.
“You’re making this difficult.”
“I’m enjoying it.”
Roman almost smiled.
Then his expression became serious again.
“I won’t keep you here because I want you.”
The words hung between us.
I stood slowly.
“You want me?”
His eyes narrowed.
“You know I do.”
“No. I know you protect me.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“Exactly.”
I walked closer.
“So say it.”
Roman stared at me.
I waited.
Finally:
“I want you here.”
“Better.”
“I want you beside me.”
I said nothing.
His voice dropped.
“And somewhere between discovering what happened to you and watching you walk into a Brooklyn terminal after I specifically told you not to—”
“That really bothered you.”
“Deeply.”
I smiled.
Roman continued.
“Somewhere in there, revenge stopped having anything to do with why I wanted you to stay.”
My smile faded.
He placed the annulment papers between us.
“But wanting you isn’t enough reason to keep you.”
I looked down at them.
For years, Grant had made every decision for me.
My clothes.
My money.
My movements.
My silence.
Then Roman had entered my life intending to become another man who decided my future.
Instead, he was offering it back.
I picked up the papers.
Roman’s expression revealed nothing.
I tore them in half.
His eyebrows rose.
“You know lawyers can print more copies.”
“Then stop wasting paper.”
“Evelyn.”
“I’m staying.”
His jaw tightened.
“Because you feel obligated?”
“No.”
“Because you’re afraid of leaving?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
I stepped closer.
“Because the man I married at Saint Matthew’s isn’t the man standing in front of me.”
Roman said nothing.
“And because I’m not the woman you thought you married either.”
“That much is obvious.”
I placed my hand in his.
“But there are conditions.”
Roman sighed.
“Of course there are.”
“No threats at breakfast.”
“Reasonable.”
“No ordering me to stay in cars.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Roman.”
“That one requires negotiation.”
“And no more treating me like property.”
His expression immediately changed.
“Never.”
I believed him.
He lifted my hand.
“We should probably have another wedding.”
I blinked.
“We’re already married.”
“The first one was a declaration of war.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“I’m Sicilian.”
“That isn’t an excuse.”
“It frequently is.”
I laughed.
Roman looked at me as though the sound surprised him.
Then he touched my cheek gently.
“Stay.”
This time it wasn’t an order.
So I answered.
May you like
“Yes.”
---
