Chapter 6 - The Weight of the Crown
The Master Suite upstairs was completely silent save for the crackle of the wood-burning fireplace.
Hannah stood by the tall glass doors leading out to the private balcony. The snowstorm outside was slowly beginning to die down, leaving behind a pristine, sparkling blanket of white across the vast estate grounds.
She stripped off her heavy diamond earrings, setting them on the marble vanity, and began unpinning her hair. As the long, dark waves tumbled down over her shoulders, she let out a long, slow breath—releasing the incredible pressure she had been carrying for four weeks.
The heavy oak doors of the suite clicked open and shut.
Roman walked into the room. He had taken off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his collar, rolling his sleeves up to his forearms. He looked tired, but the intense, dark edge in his eyes had softened completely.
He walked across the room with quiet, heavy footsteps until he reached her. Without a word, he wrapped his broad arms around her waist from behind, pulling her flush against his chest, burying his face into the warm crook of her neck.
Hannah leaned back into his embrace, placing her hands over his forearms. They stood like that for a long time, listening to the fire.
"She's packing," Roman murmured against her skin, his voice deep and raspy. "Arthur is taking her to Michigan at sunrise."
"Is Arthur going with her?" Hannah asked softly.
"He is," Roman confirmed. "He told me down in the library that he should have put a stop to her behavior years ago. He apologized to you, Hannah. He was weeping."
Hannah sighed softly, turning around in his arms to face him. She looked up into his dark, striking eyes. "And the family?"
"The family is terrified of you," Roman said, a faint, dark smirk touching his lips. "Uncle Marcus asked me if you needed an assistant for the audit committee. Julian offered to hand over his personal investment portfolios for your review tomorrow morning. You broke them, Hannah. Completely."
"I didn't want to break them, Roman," she admitted, her thumb gently tracing the sharp line of his jaw. "I just wanted them to stop looking at me like an intruder."
Roman reached up, his large, calloused hand gently touching the side of her face, his thumb stroking her skin with incredible tenderness. "You are not an intruder, Hannah. You are the heartbeat of this house. Without you, we are just a pack of violent men with too much money."
He looked into her eyes with an intensity that made her breath hitch.
"I will never let anyone hurt you again," Roman vowed, his voice dropping into a solemn promise. "Not my mother. Not my cousins. Nobody."
"I know," Hannah whispered softly, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "I knew it the second you stood between us downstairs."
Roman tightened his grip around her waist, lifting her effortlessly until her feet left the ground. Hannah wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms clasping behind his neck as he carried her over to the massive canopy bed.
He set her down gently onto the soft silk sheets, lingering over her, his dark gaze scanning every inch of her face, her shoulders, and the generous curves of her body.
"You were magnificent tonight," Roman murmured, his fingers trailing down the lace edge of her emerald dress. "The way you stripped Nicholas down... the way you stood up to my mother... I have never been more in love with you."
Hannah smiled, a warm, genuine spark lighting up her eyes as she pulled his face down to hers. "Then show me, Roman."
May you like
He leaned down and kissed her—a deep, slow, possessive kiss that wiped away the remaining coldness of the evening. They made love in the soft, amber light of the fireplace, wrapped in silk and heat, completely isolated from the chaos of the world downstairs.
In the quiet darkness of the room, Hannah realized that she no longer had to fight for her place in this empire. She hadn't just survived the night; she had conquered it.
