Page 129 of Snaring Emberly

Roman takes a long sip of his wine, his gaze dropping to the mozzarella.

“He would bring up arrests that took place close to my building, drug dens in the area… Everything that would make it sound like my only option in the world was to move into his suburb.”

“With him,” Roman says.

“Yeah.” I sigh. “Even that started off slowly. When I stayed over at his house, he’d ask me to leave a few things. Then after each date, he’d drive me back to his place because it was more comfortable and private. Before I knew it, I’d already moved in.”

“Sounds like a piece of work,” he mutters.

“He was the perfect boyfriend for the first few weeks. He even turned his spare room into a space for me to paint.”

Roman shifts on the grass. Maybe it’s just me projecting, but he looks embarrassed for me that I didn’t see Jim coming. I’ve changed so much from the naïve idiot who swallowed a man’s bullshit without questioning his motives.

“He convinced me to give up my job and focus on becoming an artist.”

“He did?” Roman asks, the words coming out pained.

My insides twist with revulsion at how I could have been so stupid. “I thought he cared,” I say with a sigh. “In hindsight, it was a ploy to isolate me from my friends.”

His brows crease with an unspoken question.

“No studio means no mingling with other artists.”

He nods.

“Everything was going well until I exhausted my savings and had to rely on Jim for groceries. That’s when he started chipping away at my sanity.”

“How?” Roman asks with a grimace.

I chuckle because I can’t believe I’m admitting this out loud. “Gaslighting, financial abuse, violence. Death threats. He was the full package, and I was his prisoner.”

“How did you get out?”

“By stashing away a few dollars until I built a small nest egg. I needed to be careful about it because of the cameras.”

Roman stiffens. “Cameras?”

“He used to watch me while he was at work to keep tabs on what I was doing. When I gathered enough cash, I waited for him the next time he got high on drugs, then left through a downstairs window to go straight to a women’s shelter.”

Roman stares at me, his expression so pained that I reach across the picnic blanket and grab his arm.

“It’s over now.” I force a smile. “When he caught up with me that night, you helped me escape.”

He nods, but his eyes remain distant. “I wish I’d found you sooner.”

“That would have been impossible.”

His gaze darts to meet mine.

“You were in prison,” I say.

Roman gives me a hesitant nod, as though he really could have helped.

“Stop looking so guilty.” I squeeze his hand. “No one but you has ever given me so much protection. The day after being released, you faced down an army of cops. You killed Dominic, who’d been sent by Jim, and then you destroyed that horrible little cop who snuck into your party to bring me to him. You’re my fucking hero.”

His eyes soften. “You’re a survivor.”

“Damn right I am.” I give him a sharp nod. “And so are you.”