33. Isabel
Tonight I was making pain au chocolat for the staff and the Lord of the Manor, which was basically croissants with chocolate inside. I already had frozen sheets of raw croissant dough I’d made two weeks ago, currently defrosting on the counter.
When the pastries were done I dusted them with confectionery sugar and ate one, leaving myself the option to eat one more in lieu of a proper meal. Meg went to her family for dinner and much as I loved being with them, tonight I needed time to reflect and soothe my sore muscles.
My next challenge was sending Roman the picture I’d promised. Not being much of a selfie taker, this was especially tricky. How much did I show? My money was on sexy but subtle. While eating a second pain au chocolat and wearing only a pair of cotton panties, I took a pic while biting down on the flaky crust, crumbs flying.
I agonized over it for five minutes before I realized the picture was nothing compared to what Roman had seen of me. While finishing off the pastry, I sent him the pic with a text.
Me:I’d love to be your muse.
Almost immediately, three dancing dots appeared on the screen. Roman was already replying to my text. But then the dots disappeared. Only to appear again and vanish again.
Me:You’re taking an awfully long time. Houston, is there a problem?
After an unbearable twenty seconds Roman finally replied.
Roman:I’m sorry for my tardy response but I was uploading the pic on the big screen in front of me, so I can summon it at will for my viewing pleasure. And I was also willing myself not to get any harder because it hurts.
Me:And it’s such an innocent pic.
Roman:But then you officially agreed to be my muse. Which didn’t help. Are you done with your pastries?
Me:That’s such a domestic question. Call me suspicious.
Roman:Just wondering if you were taking a video while baking. You know, as in practicing for the presentation. For me to view.
Me:And there it is, the real reason he asked. Well, if you must know I almost practiced in front of the camera.
Roman:Almost?
Me:I couldn’t because I was only wearing panties.
Roman:Christ. Please remind me to put a morals clause in the contract. Only I can watch you cook in the nude.
Me:Methinks you can’t read. I said I was wearing my panties. And an apron. Don’t want to violate sanity rules.
Roman:So, no video.
Me:No video, sorry.Would you like another pic? It’s your birthday after all. And since I’m still only wearing panties…
Roman:Jesus. Okay.I would love another pic.
I took another one, and this one was a little more risqué, and more what a birthday boy deserved. I sent it to Roman.
Me:Take that to your dreams tonight.
Roman: How about I call you and say a proper goodnight. Like a gentleman.
Me:Should I put clothes on for that call?
Roman: Are you asking as my muse or my girlfriend?
Despite the hours of delirious sexfest only hours before, a ball of fire kindled inside me.
Me:…
Roman: Something I said?
Me:I remember discussing being your muse. The other part not so much.
Roman: Which part would that be?
Me:The part where you just assumed I’m your girlfriend.
Roman: You’ll have to excuse my lack of protocol. Was I supposed to ask you first?
Me:Oh God, I don’t know. I have no idea how any of it works.
The phone rang a moment later. He heart stilled when I saw Roman’s face.
“Isabel,” Roman said with a smile laden with gravity.
“Yes, Roman,” I replied breathlessly.
“I hope it’s not too crass doing this over the phone…but my sweet, would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”
My pulse thrummed in my throat. There was no slamming on the brakes now, or reconsidering my options. Wasn’t this what I wanted? Where did the big bad complication fit into all of this?
But suddenly none of it mattered, only the immense pleasure sweeping through me. Not that I was going to agree so easily. It was just very difficult to conceal the glee in my voice. “That depends now,” I said evenly. “What does being your girlfriend mean exactly?”
“It means you’re mine,” he said, each syllable tinged with feral possessiveness, never to doubt he meant every word.
My nerve endings lit on fire, as hard as I tried to push down the sensation his words sparked. But Roman continued, a demanding smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and a primal focus in his gaze. “It also means, in the future, after we’ve spent time together, you don’t leave me to go hang out with the Russian.”
And there it was. The thorn in Roman’s flesh. He’d had it in for Sergei since he first heard his name. A hot flash of irritation prickled my insides. “I thought we were not having this conversation again. What happened to slaying the green-eyed monster? And Sergei and I dance, we don’t hang out.”
“You asked what it meant to be my girlfriend, and I answered you. Do you want to tell me the Russian never tries to win back your affections?”
It would do no one any good if I admitted to Roman that Sergei was as determined as ever to get me back in his life and his bed. “Sergei has his own life now. And he knows where I stand.”
After a long beat, Roman chuckled, grit pooling in those blue eyes. “You’d do well in a boardroom, my sweet. That doesn’t really answer my question, and yet it tells me everything I need to know.”
I mustered a flicker of a smile. “Maybe you should ask me what being my boyfriend would mean.”
“Let me guess… Not harping on about the Russian. Mea culpa.”
“There you go. How hard was that?”
“Not too hard I suppose,” Roman said with that dazzling smile of his. “I can’t say I’m entirely convinced that the issue won’t resurface, but I’ll try my best.”
His possessive tone from earlier still lingered. But just enough to make my skin tingle and have me think of ways to prove I was all his.
I pulled back the phone, so Roman could see more of me, and by the sharp intake of his breath I could only surmise it worked. Forget the way his eyes glazed over me, or the way the vein in his temple started pulsing, or the way his lips opened slightly.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he asked softly, his voice hoarse.
“If it’s anything like what you’re doing to me…”
“Is that a yes then?”
I wilted under his gaze. “Yes, I’d love to be your girlfriend.”
“I take it the staff knowing will not be a problem anymore then.”
“Roman…”
He raised an amused eyebrow and added a wink for good measure. “Isabel…”
“One thing at a time please,” I warned.
Outside, Meg was thundering up the stairs to the apartment. I ducked into my room, giggling into the phone. “I have to put a T-shirt on. If Meg has a date with her, I don’t want them to catch me lounging around in my underwear.”
I barely had a chance to finish the sentence when Meg barged into my bedroom after a useless knock on the door.
“Hi, why the fuck is Sergei texting me desperately for info about some waiter you’re sleeping with?” she yelled. “He sounds borderline suicidal. What waiter is he going on about?”
Roman heard every word. Those intoxicating, blue eyes drilling a hole through the phone. I shook my head at Meg, exasperated. “I’m on the phone. Can we discuss this later?”
Meg made a face. “Shit sorry. Hey listen, my mom packed you some food. Come eat when you’re done.”
She trotted out of my bedroom and closed the door, leaving behind a moment of stunned silence. Well, that escalated at breakneck speed. There was no walking back any of what Meg had said. And I wasn’t even going to try.
“I see the Russian is taking it all in stride,” Roman said with a little smirk that I wanted to wipe off his face. “Should I even ask about the waiter?”
“The waiter is you. Sergei thinks you’re a waiter. You know what, I don’t want to talk about Sergei right now. I’ll deal with him myself.”
I crashed back onto my bed, exhausted, every muscle in my body strained. A small, painful groan escaped me. “I should probably eat dinner and go to bed. Everything hurts.”
Roman lips broke into a compassionate yet devious grin. “I’m trying to feel bad about what you’re going through, but it’s very difficult with all these wonderful memories of what caused your current discomfort floating around in my head.”
My smile matched his. “Well, it’s not entirely your fault. I mean it’s not like you had to hold a knife to my throat.”
He threw his head back and laughed that wonderful laugh of his, and my chest tightened into a loose happy knot. I wanted to be there with him, I wanted to curl up to him and I wanted to fall asleep against him and listen to his heart thrumming in my ear.
And barely a beat after that wish skimmed through my mind, Roman looked at me the way only he can. “I know what you’re thinking, and I feel the same way. You have no idea how much I want that too.”