Roman: Book 1 (21 page)

I’m in my office when she knocks on the door. “Come in.” She slowly enters into my office and smiles.

After she sits in one of the seats in front of my desk, she asks, “Are you ready to make the call?” I nod and dial the number leaving it on speaker and slide the phone towards her.

She hasn’t spoken to her brothers in weeks so I shouldn’t feel the instant rage that consumes me when he answers and she immediately starts crying, but I do…almost to the point of seeing red.

I blankly stare at her as she cries. I do not try to console her. I do not try to calm her. I just stare.

By the time she gains her composure she looks like a hideous, blubbering mess. She does however fumble her way through our ‘story’ and once she’s finished her brother waits as silently as I do.

When her brother finally speaks, instead of the relief I thought I would feel, complete and utter dread is the only thing I’m met with.

Is this actually going to work? Will he actually believe her story? When I realize there is nothing standing in the way of me getting what I, until moments ago, truly believed I wanted.

What am I doing? And why am I doing it?

What in the hell makes Heather so damn special that I have somehow talked myself into believing I want her in my life, day in and day out?

Every word she’s spoken without asking permission to speak over the last few weeks instantly floods my mind. Every moment she made a decision without my say on the matter flares within me causing a slow boil to ignite just beneath the surface.

The sweet, loving words between brother and sister are never exchanged. Every disrespectful action and word from her fuel my anger for the woman sitting across from me.

What the fuck have I created?

Who the fuck am I marrying in two weeks?

And why? Why?

I am Roman William Payne. She is nothing.

My finger touches the screen, ending the call and I stand from my desk towards the door.

“Roman, what the hell?” Before she can even clear the confusion from her face, I’m towering over her.

“You fucking question me one more time, Heather. Just once. and I will break your goddamn jaw again, sew it shut, and laugh while you say 'I do' through your clenched teeth. I don’t know where in God’s name you came up with the concept of you and I being equals, but if you want to remain alive, as well as keep that thing inside you alive, you will quickly learn your place. Learn it and remember it. Am I understood?!”

When her eyes well with tears I harshly grab her chin and nod her head for her. After I watch her eyes go blank, I spit out, “You look like shit. Go fix your makeup." “But…my brothers? What happened to you and I speaking to Bobby—“

I spin around at the door to my office, “As I said. You and I are not equal. I just made a decision, why I made it doesn’t concern you.” My feet move as quick as possible to remove me from the room. If I don’t get out of her proximity NOW the incident of her face meeting another one of my desks will happen.

It takes me counting to four hundred and seventy five before I’m calm enough to compartmentalize my thoughts and feelings, and find the strength to stand and walk to my room.

I make myself a bath and slide into the warm water until even my head is immersed and stare blankly at the ceiling from beneath the water until I can no longer hold my breath. As soon as I break the water’s surface, I grab a breath and sink back under, repeating the motions until I’m convinced I am calm enough to make it through the rest of this fucking atrocity that lies ahead of me.

I wrap myself in a cloak of composure, dry and curl my hair, apply my makeup and dress accordingly…rather accordingly to the previous Roman’s liking. The menacing, oppressive, and diabolically unpredictable Roman who I know without a doubt has taken the lives of twelve women before me. The evil, wicked mirrored twin of the man I have always loved, but never understood why.

Somewhere in my underwater thoughts, I came to a conclusion. I went through what can only be described as the seven stages of grief, all while closing off unwanted feelings and thoughts. The first time I slide beneath the water and watched the tiny bubbles slowly surface I fought denial. I fought it with everything, every hope, every smile, every kind word Roman ever muttered to me until pain and guilt consumed me for my part in whatever flipped the switch that took my Roman away from me. After I grabbed my first gasp of air and slid beneath the waters surface again, the malevolent presence who resides in the void I used to escape, strikes the match of my anger at him. My anger for him proving me right, and letting me down.  This new part of me is too restless in hatred and she inhibits me from staying under the water as long as I did the first time. When I slipped beneath the third time the realization, the dread, the immense depression is what pulled me under… and kept me under while I slowly proceeded through the last three stages ending in acceptance. When I shoved myself from under the water gasping furiously for air, each breath that filled my lungs brought with it patience, self-preservation, and the knowledge to obtain and maintain both.

A plan evolved while I coiffed my hair, perfectly applied the appropriate amount of makeup and dressed. An extensive, elaborate, and perfect plan which all leads to me and my daughter persevering, and Roman’s self-destructed demise.

It is common knowledge, if you give a man enough rope, especially arrogant men who truly believe they are God, he will hang himself. Their boasting and gloating alone, their belief of being superior and untouchable is the downfall of every serial rapist, murderer, and sadist. History repeats itself, beginning well before Roman times. 

After I’m dressed in my
Stepford Wife
attire, I take one last look at the perfect façade I’ve created of both my emotions and my appearance before descending the stairway and following the voices coming from the main sitting area.

I’m not surprised to find Roman in his own perfect façade of loving, attentive, and caring fiancé and father to be.

My stride does however falter when I see his parents.

“And here she is, Mother, Father, this is my future bride as well as the mother of your first grandchild.” His smile lights up his face and if I didn’t know better, I would believe I was looking at the angelic twin of the satanic bastard who left me in his office less than two hours ago.

The problem is…I do know better. And every single word that falls from his mouth feels like a blow to my chest. A blow I thankfully mask before smiling at his parents. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you both.” I go in for a handshake only to be swept up in a hug from both Roman’s parents.

It’s Mrs. Payne’s whispered words that bring me centimeters from turning around and running away from the hell these next few months promise to be. “You my dear, are a gift from God, a miracle I prayed for every single day from the moment I pushed Roman out into this world. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you, thank you sweet child for saving my son. I have loved you from the moment Roman mentioned your name. And I always will.”

My hands fist the material of the back of her dress and I have to lock my knees to remain on both feet. After I’m able to quickly blink away the tears in my eyes I pull back to look Roman’s mother in her eyes and ball faced lie, “Your son saved me, Mrs. Payne, much more than I saved him.” I smile at her and make my way to Roman’s side.

He briefly kisses my temple before whispering in my ear, “Let’s not fuck up, shall we?” After he kisses my temple he looks down smiling at me as if I am his greatest treasure.

I must say, and I’ll explain in further detail afterward in order to assure you I am sane, even if every action I’ve made up to this point screams insanity, it is in this exact moment, write it down, highlight it, hell, bookmark the page, it is in this moment when it finally registers whom I’ve lived with, procreated with, and will marry in only two short weeks.

Roman is not a troubled man. He is not mentally ill. He isn’t a broken man behind sad, unfortunate events which have led to his hands being covered in the blood of twelve women. He is truly evil. Satan in the flesh. The king of deception, the spider in a web a lies, the snake in the grass who strikes before you see him. Roman is the ruler of this hell in which my life has become.

Now for my explanation of how I came to where I am today…yes, I knew while my jaw was sewn shut, after I witnessed him strangle my uncle, it would take nothing more than me deciding to escape, and I easily could do so and immediately have him arrested on several counts. Kidnapping, imprisonment, rape, attempted murder. Easily. And perhaps that knowledge is why I stayed. Perhaps it was my guilt causing an unconscious need I felt I deserved to carry this… this albatross for being attracted to a man like Roman.

Was it Roman’s beauty that captivated me, drove me to turn a blind eye to the signs he was indeed a monster? Or was it my naïve hopefulness that I could be able to love him enough, give him my purity… Did I believe the blood of my virtue would wash away the sins of his past?

I don’t know why. I only know I couldn’t leave, not until I found the reason I was so captivated by him.

I have lied for Roman. I walked away from my family for him. Stood up for him, protected him, all while not doing a single thing to protect myself from him, or prevent myself from falling in love with him.

It’s a very sad fucking day when the man you happily woke up lying next to, the man you love with all of your heart, is the man who’s eyes you stare into and discover how much you truly hate him, all in less than eight hours from the time you awoke.

This morning when the sun filtered in, I loved Roman. Wholly and irrevocably. And even though it has been less than a handful of hours, less than one day, the man I loved this morning, is the exact same man I despise on a fundamentally inherent level.

  From this day forward, I am absolutely finished. I’m done. I don’t care what the fuck makes him tick. I don’t care where the evilness inside him comes from, or what wrongs he endured, transforming him in to a sinner. Any emotion I ever felt for him that resembled empathy, love, pride, hope, respect, or affection becomes a void leaving nothing behind except odium and pure, infinite hatred. And until the time comes… I will make sure he doesn’t know.

              I will smile and continue to portray the exemplar of the perfectly obedient fiancé then wife of the almighty Roman Payne.

My daddy always told me to follow my gut. I’ve cut my heart out and tossed it to the waste side. Now… my gut is all I have left to follow.

She couldn’t have done a better job tonight if I had paid and coached her to execute the performance. I come to the realization after I’ve hit below the belt time and time again in a tone hushed enough for only her ears to hear, Heather is not merely slipping back into her role as my possession, but instead becoming an extremely worthy adversary, one of which the likes I’ve never seen or encountered before.

The night after I laid silently still and listened to her whispered confession I moved her belongings to my room and locked the doors to hers, in hopes of her regaining whatever appeal or amusement she held by implanting her into every facet of my life. Having her being a constant continuum, in not only my days but my nights as well.

When I say I know I’ve finally met an opponent strong enough to possibly defeat me, that in itself is saying something significant. Heather proves her superiority so well even I fucking question our reality. During our daily routines her obedience and personification of perfectness never once wavers.