TRAPPED BY DESIRE

Mine To The Rest

After staring at her for a moment longer, Roman finally shifted his gaze back to her phone without uttering another word.

Alana sighed internally, relieved that Roman had ceased pressing the highly inappropriate issue. She observed him tapping on her screen with growing curiosity, pondering what exactly he could be up to with her personal device.

"What are you doing with my phone?" she couldn't help but ask, her chin tilting up.

"Done," Roman said flatly as he extended his hand, offering the device back to Alana.

She snatched the phone from his grasp, her eyes quickly scanning the display to see if she could detect any immediate signs of his activity.

"I've saved my number on your phone, so you can call me in case of emergencies," he explained, reaching into his tailored pocket and retrieving a sleek plastic card.

Alana nodded slowly, still gazing down at his name firmly embedded in her contacts list.

"Here," Roman said, extending the card toward her, which she reluctantly took from his fingertips.

Alana examined the heavy black card, shooting him a deeply questioning look.

"You can buy whatever you like with that card," Roman stated, his voice completely level.

Alana shook her head, her posture instantly stiffening.

"That won't be necessary," she said, extending her hand straight back toward him with the card held firmly between her fingers. "Our relationship is only pretend, so you don't have to spend your money on me. I won't accept it."

Roman frowned, a cold shadow passing over his sharp features.

"It doesn't matter if this relationship is real or fake, you're still my girlfriend to the rest of the world. So just keep the card," he said firmly, his tone clipping the argument short with absolute finality.

Speechless and thoroughly outmanoeuvred, Alana withdrew her hand.

"If you say so," she said, shrugging her shoulders defensively.

Roman was about to say something else, but his phone suddenly began to vibrate loudly in his palm, the screen glowing brightly.

He reached into his pocket, took out his phone, and glanced briefly at the caller ID before answering the call with a quick swipe. He then moved a short distance away from where Alana was seated, his shoulders squaring.

"I recall instructing you to contact my assistant if you needed anything," Roman said coldly to the person on the other end of the line, his voice dripping with venom.

Alana stared intently at his broad back, intensely curious about the identity of the person he was talking to.

She didn't want to appear as if she were actively eavesdropping on his private call, so she quietly excused herself from the master bedroom and headed down the corridor to the kitchen.

As she approached the doorway, a delightful scent wafted directly into her nostrils, rich and savory, causing her to pause momentarily to inhale the aroma before entering the kitchen space.

She met a young woman meticulously chopping fresh vegetables on a wooden board. Alana assumed that she must be the housekeeper, judging by the crisp uniform she wore.

The woman, on the other hand, did not take any notice of Alana's quiet presence as she continued with her quick work. Alana stood there silently by the frame, watching the woman as she operated with practiced ease.

When the woman finally raised her head and saw Alana standing right there, she was startled to the point that she almost dropped the heavy knife onto the counter.

"G-Good evening, miss," the woman stuttered, her chest heaving as she remained slightly shaken by the surprise.

"Did I startle you?" Alana asked gently, worried that she may have truly scared the poor woman.

"No, not at all," the woman shook her head rapidly, avoiding her eyes.

"What are you making?" Alana asked as she moved closer to the marble kitchen island where different fresh ingredients were neatly placed.

"Bolognese sauce, miss," the woman replied softly as she resumed chopping the vegetables with a sudden stiffness.

Alana nodded and sat down on a nearby stool, watching intently as the woman sliced through the vegetables with practiced skill.

It had been a long time since she had the opportunity to enter a kitchen and watch someone cook a home-cooked meal. This felt like a rare, peaceful moment for her.

"I see you've met Jane, the housekeeper," Roman said as he entered the kitchen, his deep voice immediately capturing Alana's and Jane's attention.

"Yes," Alana replied with a small smile. "She seems very nice."

"I won't be able to make it back in time for dinner, so after she's done eating..." He gestured smoothly toward Alana, addressing the housekeeper directly. "You can take the rest home."

Jane nodded quickly in understanding, her head bowed.

His attention shifted instantly back to Alana. "If you want to go out, you can ask her to call the driver for you. Just make sure you're back here inside the penthouse before eight."

Alana frowned, her smile vanishing. "I didn't know I had a curfew."

"Do you have a problem with that?" Roman asked, tilting his head slightly to the side as he challenged her look.

"Yes," Alana replied immediately, her jaw setting firmly.

Her frown deepened even more as she stared back at him. She didn't appreciate the heavy sense that Roman already assumed a certain level of control over her personal movements.

While she was perfectly fine with keeping strictly to the formal terms of their contract, as she had consented to it willingly, she was absolutely not going to allow the man to dictate matters that affected her daily life.

There were limits to things, after all.

"We will talk about this later, Alana," Roman said smoothly, dismissing her anger with a wave of his hand.

Alana simply averted her eyes from him, crossing her arms without uttering another single word. A second later, she heard the crisp sound of his expensive shoes clicking sharply on the floorboards as he left the penthouse.

After Roman left, Alana attempted to initiate a casual conversation with Jane to break the ice, but the woman appeared entirely intimidated by her presence, as she consistently kept responding with brief, clipped replies to everything she said.

Observing that Jane was entirely uninterested in becoming too friendly or familiar, Alana ceased her attempts to initiate a conversation with the housekeeper altogether.

Following the quiet dinner setup, Alana simply ate her meal in silence and then retired directly to the bedroom. She took a hot bath, donned a fresh pair of pajamas, and settled into the large bed, getting comfortable under the thick sheets.

It was just a few minutes before eight o'clock, and sleeping seemed completely impossible for her. Which was not surprising at all, given that she had spent a long time sleeping soundly during the day.

Retrieving her phone from atop the bedside table, she decided to text her aunt a quick update before dropping the device back down onto the wood.

Shortly after, exhaustion finally caught up to her, and she was fast asleep. The heavy door creaked open slowly, and someone quietly entered the darkened room, striding over to the edge of the bed where Alana was sleeping soundly.

Jane watched Alana's sleeping face, her brow furrowed deeply with something like pure resentment as she clutched her phone tightly in her shaking hand.

Raising the phone, Jane took a few quick photos of Alana's exposed face before tiptoeing back out of the room, just as Alana stirred slightly in her deep sleep.

Once safely outside the room, Jane dialed a number, her hands shaking with unadulterated anger.

"Hello, he has a new girlfriend," she whispered fiercely to the person on the other end of the line. "Of course I'm sure. The little w***e is sleeping on his f*****g bed right now," she snarled, speaking with venom to whoever was listening on the other end of the line. "I'll send you photos of the b***h right now."

After abruptly disconnecting the call, she glanced back at the bedroom door once more, clicking her tongue in quiet, bitter irritation.

******

The booming bass reverberated through the dense air, blending with the music to create a pulsating rhythm that resonated throughout the entire upscale club.

The polished floors below were completely filled with a mix of high-class and middle-class individuals mingling together under the flashing lights.

High above the swirling crowd, Ryan stood stoically on the second-floor balcony, his impassive face showing absolutely no emotion at all as he observed the lively celebration happening below.

He took a leisurely sip from the azure drink in his hand, his sharp gaze fixed on the people below with an almost detached, bored demeanor.

After a moment, Ryan made his way over to the luxurious seating area where Roman was currently seated, a knowing, faint smirk dancing on his lips.

A striking woman, at least in her early twenties, leaned in close to Roman by his side, desperately trying to cling to him like a hungry leech. She attempted to catch his attention by subtly pressing her breast against his left arm.

Ryan observed Roman's entirely disinterested expression as Roman took a slow drag from the cigarette in his mouth, and then glanced at the blonde woman who appeared as if tiny ants were crawling all over her skin from the rejection.

Taking one final sip from his drink, Ryan set the glass down on the table and leaned forward, turning his head to the side to watch two men engaged in quiet conversation by the sidelines.

"You should head to the dance floor," Ryan suggested, finally catching the woman's gaze, even though his eyes remained focused elsewhere.

"What?" she asked, her voice cracking as if she hadn't heard what he had said over the blaring music.

Ryan smirked oddly as he gazed at the men before shifting his cold eyes back to the woman. "You've been restless since you sat down there, maybe dancing would help you relax a bit."

The woman frowned, a slight crease forming between her brows as she gave Ryan an intensely annoyed look. "I don't feel like dancing," she snapped, glaring at him fiercely before turning her attention back to Roman.

The woman cast one more frustrated glance at Roman before finally standing up and leaving the section.

"Now that I have your undivided attention, I believe it's time we commenced our game," Ryan declared, a competitive glint of excitement evident in his dark eyes as he leaned over the table.

Roman shot him an entirely indifferent look, his posture relaxed. "I'm not going to get wasted just for your entertainment, at least not tonight."

"Don't give me that crap. We had a firm deal, Rome. I sent my cousin to stay at your place, and in return, you promised you'd get drunk for two full nights," Ryan stated plainly as he gestured with a sharp flick of his wrist to a passing waiter, who promptly approached their booth.

He whispered something brief to the man, who nodded respectfully before departing into the crowd.

Roman didn't even bother attempting to argue with Ryan because he knew any resistance would be completely futile. He retrieved his phone from his suit pocket and pulled up his messages to text Erin.

'Cancel all my appointments for tomorrow morning.'

Roman ran his long fingers through his dark hair, tousling it slightly, after sending the swift text.

'Why?' Erin replied almost immediately, the notification popping up as if he had been anticipating Roman's message already.

'I'm about to get wasted,' Roman texted back with flat honesty before slipping his phone back into his pocket.

The server returned a moment later with another waitress, both of them carrying a heavy tray filled with rows of shots.

They set them down on the table with a clatter, and the waitress left, leaving the waiter standing there silently, awaiting Ryan's next order.