15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
L una
Alexa eyed the expensive-looking zipper bag and shoe box that had just shown up on the doorstep, then turned to me. “Well? Aren’t you going to open them?”
“I’m not wearing the dress, so it’s better to not even look.”
She rolled her eyes. “You and I both know your curiosity is going to make you pull everything out and try it all on, even if you don’t wear it tonight.”
I was already unzipping the garment bag. “Okay. I guess it won’t hurt to look.”
The creamy white couture dress and strappy sandals were exquisite. My breath caught as I held the dress up and turned it over to see the back. Then I saw the price tag, still attached to the inside label.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“It’s beautiful. The color reminds me of a pearlescent full moon.” Alexa stared at the gorgeous dress, looking a little stunned by its elegance. Then she studied my face and sighed. “You’re really not going to wear it?”
“He’s my mentor, it wouldn’t be right. There’s also this.” I held up the price tag so she could see it.
She choked. “This dress is more expensive than my car.”
I nodded and turned to her. “Why is he doing this? Most of the time, he’s cold and mean. He can’t stand me.”
Alexa shook her head. “I’m not sure who picked it out, but that dress doesn’t say I can’t stand you. ”
Later that evening, the doorbell let out its annoying flat buzz as I finished putting a few things in my jacket pocket.
I huffed out a nervous breath and turned to my tripod feline companion. “You going to miss me, Carl?” He yawned and went back to licking himself.
My stomach clenched, and I wondered how Roman would react. When I swung open the door, he stood in the doorway in an expensive, well-cut black suit, black shirt, and tie. He looked so good that I straightened and stared for a few seconds.
As he walked in, his eyes flicked past me, pausing on the couture dress and strappy shoes lying across the back of the couch. The man knew my sizes; I tried not to think about that.
He eyed me up and down and raised his eyebrow. “Why aren’t you wearing the dress?”
My back went up. “Did you decide to go with the funeral home aesthetic tonight? I bet Ezra would be happy to hire you.”
He arched an eyebrow as he took in my simple black pencil skirt and jacket. It was similar to what I usually wore at the office. “And you decided to go with the insurance office manager look.”
His comment stung, but I raised my chin. “A simple, off-the-rack suit works fine for an intern.”
He waved his hand. “Suit yourself. Are you ready?”
“Was that a pun? I can never tell. You’re not mad?”
He seemed to rein in his retort. “I did look forward to seeing you in that dress, but it appears you’re done throwing a tantrum about coming, so there’s that, at least.”
I rolled my eyes. “I never ‘threw a temper tantrum.’ Let me put it back in the garment bag, and you can return it.”
“Keep it, now let’s go.” He took my arm and started walking toward the door.
I tugged out of his grip. “There’s no way I’m keeping that dress.”
“Why?”
“The price tag is still on it, and I can’t take something like that from my mentor. It’s exquisite, but this isn’t a date and I’m not Cinderella. I don’t feel right keeping it.”
He shook his head and strode to the door. “We’ll argue about it later. I never understood the draw of that story when Cinderella would have been better off suing her stepmother for breach of fiduciary duties instead of getting tied up with Prince Charming.”
I followed him. “You’re kind of a legal nerd. You know that, right?”
“That’s an interesting observation, coming from you. Gideon is driving us tonight.” A sleek black suburban with tinted windows sat in the mortuary's circular driveway.
Gideon hopped out and opened the door for us, smiling at me. “Good evening, Luna. You look lovely, and I like the shoes.”
I smiled. My one concession had been a stylish pair of black pumps with ankle straps, and Gideon had noticed.
“Hi, Gideon. Thank you, and thanks for driving tonight.” I patted his arm and slid into the spacious backseat, the leather cool beneath my hands.
Gideon shut the door, and Roman’s cedar and spice scent filled the space, along with a momentary sense of intimacy, as he slid in after me. Tourists and locals walked along the Strip, dressed in everything from shorts and sandals to tuxedos and dresses, as they took in the bright lights and glitter. The venue for the charity event was one of the newer casino hotels on the Strip, built when an older one had been imploded several years ago. Gideon drove us around to the opulent front entrance, and my stomach knotted in excited dread as the vehicle stopped.
Roman turned to him. “I’ll text you about ten minutes before we need you to pick us up.”
“Very good. Ivan requested I stay close this evening.”
Roman nodded, looking grim. “Thank you. I’ll be on alert.” He studied me, then reached behind my head and removed my hair clip.
“Hey! What are you doing?” I tried to grab the clip as my hair unraveled well past my shoulders.
“You might be taken for one of the servers with your hair up. I want people to be able to tell the difference so everyone behaves themselves.”
I hurriedly ran my fingers through my long, dark, curly hair, hoping it looked elegantly tousled instead of just messy. The valet opened the door, and Roman slid out and extended his hand back to me. I took it and squeezed until he stopped scanning and turned to me with his eyebrow raised.
“Why does Gideon need to stay close? Who’s here tonight that Ivan is worried about?”
He shook his head and wrapped his hand around my forearm, guiding me inside the lobby. Turning left, we headed down a red-carpeted corridor where several well-heeled couples were gathered. “I forget how observant you are sometimes. It’s a precaution.”
A precaution, my ass. Something was happening, but I didn’t know what. Roman and his partners were sometimes careful and taciturn when I asked certain questions, and they were as adept as any politician at giving non-answer responses. Like right now.
“Why aren’t the other law partners attending tonight?”
“We take turns since none of us like these events. It was my turn.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly. “Alright. Let’s go do some schmoozing.” He squeezed my arm gently and guided me forward.
Outwardly, Roman fit in with these people. He moved with confidence and control and wore designer, custom-tailored clothes. As we approached the ballroom, I started seeing them—the Las Vegas ultra-rich, and those who’d probably flown in on private jets from the East and West coasts just for the evening. Several reporters and camera people hovered at the entrance as we walked in.
“My advice is to smile and nod politely, then excuse yourself if you get cornered or don’t want to speak with someone,” Roman murmured.
“Smile, nod, and try to look pretty?” I arched an eyebrow. “Arm candy–I’ve got it. The first two shouldn't be hard.”
“Looking lovely won't be a stretch for you either, it’s not drilling people for information that’ll be the issue.”
“Hmm, another backhanded compliment.”
He inclined his head, and we stepped into the carnivalesque atmosphere. A few reporters headed Roman’s way, and when they glimpsed me on his arm, they hesitated.
“Who's the girl in the cheap suit?” I heard someone whisper.
“Anyone know her? Is she one of his subs?” someone else asked. “She doesn’t look like it,” a man with an expensive camera answered. My simple attire seemed to confuse them.
Roman leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear. “Well, this is interesting. Maybe you’ll be a new trendsetter.”
“God help me,” I muttered back. “What does he mean by sub?”
He shook his head slightly and didn’t stop to talk. Guiding me forward with a hand at the small of my back, we walked into the event.
“Let me introduce you to a few people.” As we circulated through the ballroom, I began to realize Roman was skilled at making people feel singled out and important, and women followed him with their eyes.
A server approached us, and Roman took a whiskey and handed me a glass of champagne. I sipped the drink and looked around the room. Rich, well-heeled people mingled together, talking in small groups as they sipped their drinks.
As we stood there, a man and woman approached us. The man was unremarkable, but the woman looked like a blond version of Jessica Rabbit. “Hello, Roman darling. It’s wonderful to see you tonight. I’ve missed you,” the woman murmured in a soft, cultured voice. She wore a gold gown with a significant slit up her thigh and a deep neckline.
“Hello, Marla.” Roman flicked his gaze to the man. “Tucker. Meet Luna Cross.”
Marla turned to me, her smile going flat. “Is she your secretary or administrative assistant?” Her lipstick looked wet, and her long red fingernails glistened as she took hold of his arm.
Roman shook his head. “Neither.”
“Your new submissive?” her voice sounded incredulous.
“No, and you know better than to ask,” Roman murmured dangerously. He stepped away and palmed my back.
Marla blanched but tried again. “Your paralegal then? She doesn’t look old enough.”
I glanced at her with a confused look. “I wasn’t aware there’s an age requirement to be a paralegal.”
She ignored me. “Isn’t Gideon still with you?”
I put the woman out of her misery. “I’m Mr. Fowler’s legal intern.”
The woman’s posture relaxed, and she turned to me. “So Roman is mentoring you. That’s odd. He told me he usually prefers male law students since there’s less chance they’ll develop a crush on him.” I tried not to wince, wondering if I might fit into that category.
“Not this time,” Roman answered.
Her wet lips turned down. “Your choice of attire is… interesting. Are you making some kind of statement?” Her date sipped champagne behind her with a bored expression.
“No.”
Roman took my arm and turned. “If you’ll excuse us, there are a few people I need to speak with.”
She looked at him hungrily. “It’s lovely to see you again. Call me if you ever need… anything. Enjoy your evening.” Her message was clear.
A trail of whispers followed as we walked away, and I turned to Roman. “Let me guess, ex-wife?”
“No ex-wives.”
“Ex-girlfriend then, or ex-submissive?” He was silent, and I knew I was right. “Huh, I learn something new every day. You’re into submission and dominance. I’ll have to ask Declan about–”
He stopped abruptly and faced me. “If you have questions about it, you will ask me . Do you understand?”
In hindsight, I should have guessed months ago. His dominance wasn’t an affectation, it was something deeply engrained in his DNA.
“Luna, answer me.” He didn’t sound angry or annoyed, just determined.
“Alright. If I have questions, I’ll ask you.”
He relaxed, and we started walking again. “You survived your first shark encounter.”
“Sharks would be easier—at least they don't pretend they aren’t dangerous,” I murmured, thinking more of him than Marla.
As we moved through the crowd together, Roman would sometimes whisper facts about people before they came within earshot. We had a system down, and I began to think I’d make it through the night unscathed when a man I recognized stepped in front of me.
“Good evening, Luna.” Cameron Wilder gazed down at me, looking handsome in a charcoal suit and red silk tie.
I smiled up at him. “Hello, Cameron. It’s nice to see someone I recognize here tonight.”
“Are you up for lunch or coffee next week? I’ve called the office a few times, but you’re never available.”
I glanced over at Roman, but his face was blank. “Do you have your phone on you?” I asked.
He grinned, pulled it out, and unlocked it. “Here, you can type your number in.”
Suddenly, Roman stepped behind me and slid his arm around my waist as if he were claiming or marking me. “She’s with me tonight, Wilder. You need to back the fuck off.”
My body stiffened, and I froze in place. Cameron glanced down at his arm, then looked up to study my shocked face. “She doesn’t seem to be aware of that. And wouldn’t it be a serious faux pas to be romantically involved with your law school intern?”
Roman swore viciously but didn’t step back.
Cameron looked down at me and smiled. “If you want to do lunch or coffee, call my office and have them put you through to Marcus, my assistant. Leave your number with him. I will call you back, Luna. Have a good evening.” He glanced up at Roman, and for the first time, I saw ice in his eyes.
Roman’s arm spasmed around my waist, but he let me go and stepped back as Cameron walked off. I slowly turned and stared up at him. “What–” my voice croaked, so I tried again. “What in the fuck was that?”
He studied me with hooded eyes. “He is not as friendly or safe as he seems.”
“Neither are you, and that’s saying something because you aren’t safe or friendly at all.”
Roman leaned down and got in my face. “Cameron likes floggers, handcuffs, and a little pain when he fucks. Maybe he just wants to do lunch, but I highly doubt it, and his preferences don’t seem to be your cup of tea.”
My eyes went wide and my breathing sped up. For once, I couldn’t get a snarky response out. He studied my face carefully. “Or is it?”
I swallowed. “Well, maybe not… all of that.”
He growled low in his throat, and I grew damp. Our conversation had gone off the rails fast, and I needed to get myself together. Turning my head to avoid his gaze, I noticed another woman approaching us, her eyes on Roman. I tried to turn away, but Roman slid his hand around my back and held me to his side.
The slender, dark-haired woman wore a well-cut black dress that was more subdued than Marla’s, but somehow more sensual. She wore a thick gold collar around her throat, and the man standing beside her eyed Roman with intense dislike.
“Good evening, Madison. Charles,” Roman greeted them. “This is Luna Cross.”
I noticed the woman couldn’t quite meet Roman’s eyes, and Charles grunted a hello. Then Madison focused on me. “Hello, I’m Madison Carlisle.” She seemed to expect me to know who she was.
Roman hadn’t given me any information about this couple. “I’m Luna Cross, Mr. Fowler’s law student intern and reticent partner for the evening. It’s nice to meet you.”
Her lips curled up in surprise. “Oh. So you’re not his next… companion.”
I cocked my head. “Truthfully, we can barely tolerate each other, and you’re the second woman to approach us who’s probably a former submissive. You can just tell me whatever it is you want to say.”
The woman’s face flushed and she snuck a peek at Roman, then she took my arm and pulled me out of earshot. “Has he asked you to sign a nondisclosure agreement yet?”
My head jerked back. “No, and I’d tell him to go screw himself if he did.”
She looked almost relieved and then despondent. The woman was beautiful and seemed sincere, but she was also a little broken.
Madison glanced over at the men staring at us. “Be careful with him. He’s mesmerizing and addictive, but also cold and closed off. Don’t think you’re special to him, no matter how mind-blowing the sex and submission are.”
I blinked. “Our relationship isn’t like that.”
She gazed at me, then turned to Roman. “From the way he stares at you, he wants it to be. Just… be careful.” She looked over her shoulder and stepped back. “It was nice to meet you, Luna.”
Roman took my hand and pulled me back toward him, away from Madison.
“It was nice to meet you too. Thank you for the salon recommendation.”
Madison smiled a little as Charles led her away. I turned to Roman and gently tugged at my hand. He let go but stepped closer, looking around as if assessing for other threats.
“Why are your former subs warning me about you? And why do you have them sign NDAs? Is it really necessary? I bet that’s an interesting legal document.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t even wait for the night to be over before you start in with the interrogation.”
“I have so many questions, but since I can’t ask Declan, you did this to yourself. How long do we have to stay?”
Roman shrugged. “I tend to give it an hour or two, and by that time I’m ready to punch someone. It’s been long enough, let’s go.”
As we headed toward the exit, I sighed inwardly when a short, barrel-chested, middle-aged man stepped in front of Roman. I just wanted to go home. The man’s custom-tailored suit did little to disguise the extra weight or his double chin that seemed to disappear into the collar of his shirt. Two hard-looking men stood a few feet behind him.
“Roman Fowler,” the man sneered. He had watery eyes and a bulbous nose. “Who’s your pretty little date?”
“Hello, Silas,” Roman greeted him with an icy smile. “This is Ms. Cross, as you’re well aware.”
He eyed my suit with something akin to amusement. “She’s a pretty thing even in ugly clothes, Fowler, I'll give you that. Does she like it rough? My boys are looking forward to accommodating her when you get tired of her holes.” My stomach tightened at his disgusting words.
“You and your ‘boys’ stay the fuck away from her if you value your balls, Strack. I hear Lionel is still in jail.”
So this was Lionel Strack’s father, Silas Strack. The man’s eyes turned cold. “He’ll be out soon. And then I’ll properly introduce him to Ms. Cross.” This man gave off serious serial killer vibes.
“Over my dead body,” Roman said pleasantly.
Silas’s lips twisted, and he winked conspiratorially. His breath reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, even from ten feet away. “We shouldn’t be at odds. If you want to make some real money, we have a business model that’d make you a very rich man.”
“I’m already a very rich man, and there’s no fucking way we’d use our firm or our business interests to launder money for you. We aren’t stupid enough to get into bed with either you or the drug syndicate.” Roman leaned in. “And if you don’t stay clear of us, I’ll make sure you live to deeply regret it. Or die regretting it. Either works for me.”
Silas studied Roman with bloodshot eyes, then pulled a cigar out of his pocket and sniffed it. “Don’t be offended, Mr. Fowler. We respect your reputation.” His eyes went hard, and he nodded to me. “But Lionel wants the girl. I’ll see Ms. Cross again soon.” My stomach cramped and my knees started shaking as Silas waddled off with his two men in tow.
Roman took my arm. “Let's go.”
He pulled his phone out and called Gideon as we walked. “We’re ready.” He hung up, and we walked swiftly toward the pickup area. When we hit the front entrance of the massive hotel, Roman gently herded me back against a pillar. “I came to an unpleasant realization tonight.”
“That Silas Strack is creepy as hell?”
“That I need to hand your mentorship off to Ivan.”
Adrenaline hit my system, and my body stilled. If he’d let me out of this situation months ago, I would have been ecstatic, but now I felt hurt and betrayed. “Why?”
“I trust Ivan.” He cupped my cheek, and my breath whooshed out. “I also don’t like watching other men circle around you without being able to do anything about it. Even you wearing that goddamned suit couldn’t keep men from eye fucking you tonight.”
“What?” I choked out.
“I want more from you, Luna, so it’s time to hand off your internship.”
My heart sped up, and anger surged through me. “You are such an asshole . First, for not letting me out of this internship to begin with, and then for making me actually like you after the way you’ve treated me–for months!”
A sly grin spread across his face, making my ovaries clench. I stuck my finger in his face and whispered hoarsely, “Get that smile off your face right now.” I pulled away from him and started pacing, my hands gesturing wildly as I ranted. “I’ll admit, I tried on that dress and those shoes. Because I’m curious to a fault, and the dress is gorgeous.” I turned and marched back to him. “But I’m done letting you jerk me around. You want to hand me off? Fine, but don’t try to cock block me, or act jealous, or… buy me clothes ever again!”
“You’re a woman, so technically I can’t cock block you.”
“You know what I mean. Are we clear?”
“No.”
“No?” I sounded strangled.
He reached up and brushed a strand of hair off my face. “From now on, I’ll buy you whatever the fuck I want.”
This was a game to him, but he could really hurt me. Hell, he’d already done that by treating me so contemptuously for months and then coldly dumping me on Ivan. And now the demented Strack family was after me. “If I’ve become such a problem and you plan to pawn me off anyway, then I’ll go back to my original internship. On Monday, I’ll call Klim and let him know.”
As Gideon pulled up, Roman leaned over and murmured in my ear, “The fuck you will.”