Chapter 43 Seductress

Lorraine paced her room for nearly an hour after storming off. Anger burned at first, but as it cooled, it left something sharper behind: resolve. Roman’s refusal wasn’t just about protection—it was about control. He loved her, wanted her, maybe even needed her, but he still wouldn’t trust her to share the weight of his world.

She had to change that.

Not with more arguing, not with reason—he could always out-logic her, could always silence her with that deep voice and the force of his presence. No, if she was going to make him listen, she had to speak the one language Roman never ignored: desire.

Her heart pounded as she moved to the mirror. She slipped out of her sundress and reached for the satin slip tucked in the drawer. It was pale champagne, clinging in all the right places, sheer enough to hint but not reveal. She let her hair tumble loose over her shoulders, added just a touch of gloss to her lips, and stood back.

Not porcelain, she thought fiercely. Not someone to lock away. Tonight, he’ll see me as his equal—or not at all.

With one last breath, she started down the hall barefoot, every step deliberate. The house was quiet, Roman’s study lamp the only glow spilling from under a door at the far end.

She didn’t knock. She opened it.

Roman was sprawled across the bed, not in the study as she expected. His shirt was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled back, papers strewn across the comforter. He glanced up, clearly ready to bark at whoever dared interrupt—until he saw her.

The words died in his throat.

For a long beat, silence filled the room, heavy with the sound of their breaths. His gaze swept over her slowly, drinking her in, before snapping back to her eyes.

“Lorraine,” he said, his voice low and rougher than usual. “What are you doing?”

She smiled faintly, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “Talking to you. Again.”

“You’re—” He cleared his throat, dragging a hand over his jaw. “You’re not dressed for talking.”

She let the smile widen. “Maybe not.”

He watched warily as she crossed to the bed, the sway of her hips deliberate now. She climbed up, the mattress dipping under her weight, and settled astride his lap before he could react.

Roman stiffened, his hands hovering just shy of her waist as though afraid to touch. “Raine…”

She leaned forward, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You told me no. But maybe you’ll hear me better this way.”

His breath caught. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is keeping me locked out,” she whispered back, her fingers tracing the line of his open shirt, slipping lightly over the warm skin beneath.

Roman’s grip finally landed, his hands firm on her hips. He held her there, not pushing her away but not pulling her closer either. “You can’t seduce me into saying yes.”

Lorraine drew back just enough to meet his eyes. “I’m not seducing you for a yes.” Her voice trembled with truth. “I’m reminding you why I need to help. Why I can’t just sit in the shadows. Because every time you walk out that door, I don’t know if you’ll come back. And if you fall, if Dwade wins, what am I left with? Sitting pretty in a tower, useless? No. I won’t do it. I’d rather stand beside you and fight than rot in safety.”

Roman’s jaw tightened, conflict blazing in his eyes. She felt the heat of it between them—the push and pull of his desire and his fear.

“You drive me mad,” he muttered, his voice ragged.

“Good.” Lorraine tilted her head, brushing her lips over his, soft but insistent. “Because maybe madness is the only way you’ll see me clearly.”

For a heartbeat, he held still. Then the dam broke. His mouth claimed hers, fierce and desperate, his arms crushing her against him. The papers scattered to the floor as he shifted, laying her back across the bed, hovering above her with hunger in his eyes.

But just as quickly, he pulled back, bracing himself on his elbows. His chest heaved with restraint. “If I let you in,” he said harshly, “you’ll never get out. This life—it stains. It breaks. You think you want it, but—”

“Fine,” he said, the word a low growl of surrender. “I’ll find a way. Something that lets you stand beside me without putting you in the crosshairs. But Raine—” His thumb brushed across her lips, trembling. “If you get hurt, I’ll never forgive myself.”

She smiled, tears pricking her eyes as relief and triumph washed through her. “Then don’t let me get hurt.”

His laugh was soft, broken, full of affection and despair all at once. He kissed her again, slowly, sealing the promise with heat and tenderness.

And Lorraine thought, for the first time, that maybe this was what true partnership felt like—hard-won, dangerous, and worth every risk.

Roman kissed her again, slower this time, lingering as though he could imprint the shape of her mouth into memory. His forehead rested against hers, his breath hot and uneven.

“You love me?” he asked suddenly, the words raw, torn from somewhere deep inside him.

Lorraine froze, her heart stumbling in her chest. She had let that slip earlier. But she knew it, had known it from the first time his presence wrapped around her like a storm she wanted to step into.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling but sure. “I love you.”

Roman’s eyes fluttered closed, as though bracing against the impact. When he opened them again, the storm had shifted—less guarded, more human. “Say it again.”

Her throat tightened, but she obeyed, each syllable heavier, stronger than the last. “I love you.”

For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then, slowly, as though it cost him something and gave him everything all at once, Roman whispered, “I love you.”

The first time he’d said it.

The words landed like a spark in dry grass, blazing through Lorraine’s chest, burning away every doubt. Tears pricked her eyes, but she laughed softly, dizzy with relief and joy. She kissed him again, harder this time, needing to feel those words on his lips, to claim them.

Roman gathered her against him, holding her as though he could fuse her into his skin, as though losing her would mean losing himself. And for once, Lorraine didn’t feel like she was chasing his shadows, trying to determine if he was evil or good.

For once, they stood on equal ground. Lovers. Partners. Dangerous, complicated, imperfect—and in love.