Chapter 31
31
Quinn
I ’m drifting, vaguely aware of the dull ache deep inside. Roman appeared moments after I unlocked the door like it was fated to happen his way. Maybe it was.
Click. That’s the door again. It takes me a few seconds to fully register what that means, but then I’m on my feet and dashing out into the lounge, wearing nothing but my awkwardly draped bedsheet.
I open the door, but he isn’t there, and I can’t go after him, not when I’m practically naked. I run back to my bedroom and part the drape to see Roman’s car pulling away.
Moments after he came inside me and left me dazed, bleeding, and satisfied, he took off without a word?
I don’t know why I’m surprised. I’ve always been afraid this would happen, and I couldn’t imagine a scenario where someone would respect me enough not to treat me this way, so I never tried to draw anyone closer.
Then Roman came along, and fool that I was, I got addicted to his attention and lowered my guard.
Great job, Quinn. Well done.
I go to the bathroom and have a slightly painful pee. The light feels too bright in here, too real after the liminal space of my bedroom. It’s like my fantasy came to life, but as with all imaginings, it disappeared again as fast as it arrived.
What am I going to do? A few days ago, I was burning up in the dumpster fire that was my life. Now, I have a management job, a new friend and co-worker, and my beloved apartment back. I even put a little money Carrie’s way so she could be happier and have things to look forward to at the end of her life.
All it cost me was my virginity, which I didn’t prize that highly in the first place, and I gave it up willingly. So why do I feel so bad?
I set the shower running and stand beneath the hot stream, water pounding the back of my neck. I scrub my body, trying to wash away the cheap feeling creeping over my skin.
I’m too much and not enough. Fat and naive enough to fall for smooth talk and a handsome face, but not pretty or worldly enough to love.
Love. Wow, I really dropped the ball this time. What was my secret weapon for stealing a millionaire’s heart? The cinnamon buns?
I walk out of the bathroom and scream in shock. Roman stands behind my kitchen counter as if he lives here, pouring wine.
“Jesus, Quinn! You scared the shit out of me,” he laughs. “What’s the matter? You’ve been crying.” His face darkens. “Did I hurt you? I got kinda carried away.”
” I—I thought you left me.” I feel small and pathetic; even my voice sounds weak. “You did leave. Now you’re back.”
“I’m not used to explaining myself, so I didn’t think. I’m sorry.” He comes to me and takes my hands in his. “I needed to move my car. I don’t want anyone seeing it parked out there and asking difficult questions or starting rumors. Then I got waylaid.”
“What do you mean?”
Roman leads me to the kitchen and shows me what he brought. “Pizza,” he says, flipping the cardboard lid. “You got a delivery from this place the other night. I called them, asked for your usual order, then picked it up.”
“Roman, how many times have you been in my apartment?” I ask, stunned.
“This is the second occasion.” He opens the box and wrinkles his nose. “Baby, this has pineapple on it. Are you some kind of deviant?”
I refuse to be distracted.” Tell me how you know all this stuff about my life.”
Roman picks up a wine glass and hands it to me. “Quinn, from the moment we met, I made it my sole purpose to possess you. And I’m not a man to do things by halves, so I had this place fitted with cameras.”
I take a big gulp. “You mean to tell me you bought the bakery and the apartments just to take control of my life and watch me whenever you wanted?”
“Yes.” Roman shrugs and gives me a lop-sided grin. “What? To hear you talk, anyone would think it was weird.”
I can’t help but laugh. “There’s so much I don’t know about you. All this observing you’ve been doing?—“
“I resent that.” He arches a brow. “Call it like it is. It’s stalking, and I’ll have you know it takes a lot of effort.”
“Do you always do this? If you’re seeing a girl, does that depend on whether her curtains are open?”
“You sound like my good friend Leon, who has been taking the piss out of me since this began.” He picks up the pizza box. “And no, I’ve never done this before. I have lost my head and made a fucking fool of myself, but I regret nothing.”
I draw a deep breath and ask, “Were you leaving at first, but then you changed your mind?”
Roman looks me in the eye as he speaks. “Ask me that as two questions, then don’t ask anything more. Okay?”
“Did you plan to leave?”
“Yes.”
The ice block inside is back, chilling my blood. “And you changed your mind?”
“Again, yes.”
“Why?”
“No more for now, Quinn. Let’s find a late movie.”
I think about pressing the matter, but his expression is stony, so I desist. Besides, he may tell me something I don’t want to know.
Roman and I set out the food and perch self-consciously on the edge of the couch. It’s awkward for a moment until he takes my glass from my hand and puts it on the table.
“Come on.” He folds his arms around me. “Let’s be a normal couple for a while.”
I melt into his embrace, and he kisses my forehead before nestling me into his chest. He clicks through the channels.
“So here’s a secret for you,” he says. “My mother’s favorite film was Roman Holiday, so much so that she named me after it, but I’ve never seen it. It’s about to start on TLC. Whaddayasay?”
“Hand me some pizza, and you’re on.”
Roman peels a slice from the pie and holds it to my mouth. “Take a bite, rusalka . Your wish is my command.”