Chapter 13
The next morning, when Ava went to text Damaris that she was still alive, her phone battery was almost dead.
“Oh shoot,” she said. “I forgot my charger.”
“You can use mine.” Roman pointed at the cord on the nightstand. “It’s right there.”
“Thanks. The damn thing barely holds a charge anymore.”
“You need a new phone?”
Ava tapped out a quick message to Damaris. “I’ll buy one soon. They’re so expensive these days.”
“I’ll get you one,” he said, not even looking up from his tablet.
Ava stilled. She turned and took in Roman, sitting comfortably at the dining table in the robe provided by the hotel. A robe
she wouldn’t have even thought to touch, because her mom had always told her there were fees for using anything but the soap
and towels.
Except now, she was wearing the accompanying robe. Because Roman owned this hotel. Because part of their arrangement was that
he’d take care of everything when they were together.
And now, because she’d made an offhand complaint about her battery, he’d said he’d get her a new phone.
This had to stop.
“Roman,” she said in a quiet voice. “You don’t have to buy me anything.”
“It’s nothing,” he said, and she sucked in a breath, because for him, it probably was. He hadn’t said, “I’ll buy you one,”
he’d said, “I’ll get you one.” He probably had extras sitting around his house.
House? Did he live in a house? Or did he live in an apartment? She knew he lived near Central Park, but other than that, she
didn’t know where, or what kind of home. Hell, he probably owned multiple homes!
The thought was a wake-up call. What was she doing? This wasn’t her life. It wasn’t anywhere close. She was a middle-school
teacher who barely managed to pay her rent and student loans every month. She had no business sitting here in a plush hotel
robe, luxuriating over an extravagant breakfast spread in a penthouse suite.
And she still couldn’t believe she’d told Roman about the night Hector had left her. What on earth had possessed her to do
that? Sure, Roman was a good listener, but she barely knew him.
Let me show you how much of a treasure you are .
His response had made her feel warm and mushy inside. And true to his word, the way he’d made love to her all night—she couldn’t
think of it as just fucking or screwing, it had been too soft and reverent for that—had indeed made her feel treasured.
She was in over her head, and if she didn’t reinforce the boundaries, this was going to get messy. For her .
“Please don’t buy me anything, Roman. That’s not what we have going on here.”
At her serious tone, he looked up. His sharp gaze traveled over her face, and he nodded once. “Fine. But I want to be able to text you.”
Her pulse fluttered. “Why?”
He shrugged and looked back at his tablet. “We’re negotiating, aren’t we? You don’t want me to get you a phone, so in exchange,
I can text you whenever I want.”
“That... that doesn’t make any sense!”
The corner of his mouth ticked. “Those are my terms.”
“I—” She snapped her mouth shut before she gave in to the urge to argue. Something told her that if she didn’t stay firm,
he’d end up wresting some other kind of agreement from her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He cast an assessing gaze her way, but whatever he saw in her expression seemed to convince him. He gave a short nod and said,
“All right.”
She worried she’d upset him, but after Roman interrupted her shower to give her not one, but two toe-curling climaxes, Ava
was pretty sure they were okay. Still, she was surprised when he came up behind her while she was getting dressed and wrapped
his arms around her waist.
“Stay,” he said in her ear. “I’ll have someone drive you home early tomorrow morning so you’re not late for school.”
She smiled at his reflection in the mirror and cupped his arms, holding him to her. “I’d love to, but I’m having brunch with
a friend this afternoon.”
“Ah.” He kissed the side of her neck and gave her a little squeeze before releasing her. “Next time, plan on a whole weekend.”
“Sure,” she murmured. This, she understood, was his negotiation. He’d let her win this time—no phone—but he wanted more.
She didn’t say, There might not be a next time . What they had was a spur of the moment, no-strings fling. It didn’t matter that she’d bought a slew of new underwear and
that she had regular waxing appointments scheduled because Roman seemed to love going down on her. The beauty of this arrangement
was in the boundaries, and she had to keep them strong.
Maybe someday she’d be ready to take a crack at a relationship again. But not now. And not with Roman.
But as she sat in the backseat of the car he’d arranged to drive her back to the Bronx, what replayed through her mind wasn’t
the sex or the penthouse view or any of the delicious things they’d eaten for dinner.
It was the way he’d held her close while asking about her past.
He never hurt me. Just my heart.
That’s not nothing .
She squeezed her eyes shut and let her head fall back against the exquisitely cushioned leather seat.
God, she was in so much trouble.