Chapter 7: We are married
Patricia was well tended to by Roman’s maid, who made sure she had everything she needed. Though utterly mortified that a man, especially one who wasn’t her lover knew she was menstruating, she couldn’t deny the comfort the care brought her. It was humiliating, yes, but oddly... human. Still, a part of her suspected Zara had planned this all along, abandoning her so she would be forced to stay the night if things didn’t go her way. Thankfully, the period made Roman show kindness.
But what unsettled her more was the fact that she was in this house, the very one Roman had entered. There were three other buildings in the large compound, yet she was brought here. Why? If he truly wanted to avoid her, wouldn’t it have made more sense to place her in a guest house, far away from him? What was this supposed to mean?
The house was eerily silent, empty even, as if Roman were the only one who lived here. The thought gave her pause. She tried to shake it off, dismissing it as overthinking, but the unease lingered.
Restless and unable to sleep since the maid had bid her goodnight, Patricia got out of bed. Maybe some fresh air would help clear her head. Carefully, she opened the door and stepped out, shutting it quietly behind her. The house was dead silent, and from the stillness in the air, she guessed it was well past midnight.
She cursed under her breath as she remembered her phone was still in Zara’s car, left behind during the chaos earlier.
Following the path she vaguely remembered from when Kay had escorted her in, she wandered quietly through the dim hallways until she stumbled upon the kitchen.
To her surprise, it wasn’t just a kitchen, it had a sleek, modern design, and a mini bar nestled in the corner. The soft glow of under-cabinet lights lit up the room enough for her to explore. She hovered near the bar for a moment, tempted to pour herself something strong to calm her nerves. But it wasn’t her house. If Roman caught her, she was sure he wouldn’t hesitate to throw her out.
Fighting the urge, she walked into the kitchen instead, letting her eyes scan the space. To her shock, he had even more utensils than her entire family home, odd for a man who supposedly lived alone. Then again, he did mention a lover. Maybe it was her touch that filled the kitchen.
Patricia frowned slightly. Her stepmother had never let her near the kitchen, insisting it wasn’t her place. Lisa had done everything in her power to keep her from learning anything useful. If not for her real mother, she wouldn’t even know how to cook noodles. Pathetic, she thought. But maybe one day... she would learn for herself.
As she reached out to touch the chopping board, a loud thud behind her made her flinch violently.
A voice tore through the silence.