Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
The more I stalled, the more awkward I felt and deciding to get it over with, I turned to face Roman and said, “William was smart and kind, sweet and handsome. He was my first boyfriend.”
My heart clenched at the memory of our first hug in the library nook. I’d been distraught over Mother and William had pulled me to his chest, and we’d wrapped our arms around each other.
For the first time in my life, I’d understood the healing potential of a simple embrace. I missed our hugs.
“What’re you smiling at?” Roman’s grin had grown spectacular.
I dropped my smile, watching the bubbles floating to the top of my glass, so free and frivolous. They were a complete contrast to the sorrow that gripped me every time I thought of William.
“You remembered something.” His long lashes fluttered. It was probably something he practiced regularly. “Tell me.”
With nerves zipping across my stomach, I swiveled on my stool to meet his gaze. Maybe it was Roman’s special ability to extract information. Maybe it was the stupid champagne, but before I could control myself, I blurted something I’d never said to a man before. “William saved me.”
“Saved you?” He cocked his head and the dangling pendant lights caught in his lovely eyes. “From what?”
I shrugged. There were so many things, it would take the entire tour to list them all. So, I chose just one. “My mother was planning to move again, and I didn’t want to go. William and his parents let me stay with them so I could finish my final year at one school.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Your parents left you with your boyfriend? How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
“What?” His jaw dropped.
“Yeah, and it was just my mother. Dad had already left by then.”
“That’s even worse.” Something flashed across Roman’s eyes. Might’ve been disbelief. Might’ve been sorrow. “I can’t believe your mamma abandoned you.”
My resolve crumbled and I pulled my drink toward me and took a large sip. It had never occurred to me that Mother’s actions were wrong. In fact, it was the only thing she’d ever done right. “I wouldn’t have gone with her anyway. She had no choice.”
He swigged his beer and plonked the empty glass onto the bar top. “Okay, so you move in with William at seventeen. Then what?”
“Jeez. You don’t give in, do you?”
“You haven’t told me why you broke up.”
I finished my drink with one gulp and shoved the empty glass away. No more champagne.
Nibbling on the inside of my lip, I considered lying to him. But even as the idea formed, I knew it wouldn’t work. Roman seemed to be some kind of intuitive freak. Like Zali. It was like he could read my thoughts. Maybe having sisters had helped him develop that instinct. “I’ll need more champagne.”
Damn it.
I cringed. I rarely drank this much. Usually, it was just one glass of quality French champagne. But before I could rescind my request, Roman clicked his fingers and after a couple of hand gestures, the barman nodded.
Roman turned back to me. “Right, continue.”
I half huffed; half laughed. “You should’ve been a police interrogator.”
“I haven’t even started yet.”
“Bloody hell.” Where’s a random sniper when you need one? This was why I hated one-on-one conversations. And why I usually didn’t drink too much. Once again, I considered escaping to the bathroom. But based on Roman’s eager expression, he’d probably follow me right into the cubicle.
Our drinks arrived, and I nodded at the barman. “ Merci .”
Clutching the glass, I contemplated accidentally/on purpose tipping it over to create a distraction. What the hell am I doing? I never talked about William, yet I was preparing to utter details of our relationship to a man I barely knew. But if I didn’t tell him now, Roman would probably nag me for the rest of the tour. Nineteen more days trying to squirm out of his inquisition? No, thank you.
Might as well rip off the Band-Aid and get it over with.
I lowered my gaze to the dancing bubbles and hated their promise of joy. After another sip, one I hoped would numb my wavering emotions, I put my glass down and stared at a large freckle on my thumb like I was under a hypnotic trance. “I lived with William and his parents for about four years, then we moved into an apartment together. We got engaged a year later.”
“Did he cheat on you?” Roman’s voice was like a soothing melody, further enhancing my hypnotic state. “Is that what happened?”
I huffed. “I wish it was just that.” I swallowed the pain with a mouthful of champagne. Each time I thought of it, of William, the man who I’d loved with all my heart, it was like a rusty razor blade cutting tiny nicks at my heart. Returning my gaze to that freckle, I let out a slow breath and said, “William and I were together for seven years before he declared he was gay.”
“What?” Roman thumped his beer glass onto the table, and I jumped. “Shit! What . . . did he just wake up one day and decide he was gay?”
“No.” Nausea wobbled in my stomach. “Apparently, he’d known his whole life.”
“Why the hell did he stay with you then?”
Glancing at Roman, I shrugged. “Easier to pretend with me than to admit to his parents that he preferred men.”
“Oh, fuck. So, he used you.”
My heart clenched. For seven long years. But doesn’t everyone? Mother. William.
“Oh my god.” He jerked back.
I peered at him and his pointing finger. His bulging eyes had me strangling the stem of my glass. “What?”
“You still love him. Don’t you?”
Shit. Roman was a freak. I’d hate to be one of his sisters.
I exhaled a huge breath and nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
A frown crawled across his forehead. “But how can you love someone who lied to you for years?”
“He didn’t exactly lie to me.”
“Bullshit.” Roman jerked back. “He pretended to love you?—”
“He did love me, Roman.” I shoved an annoying curl from my left eye. “We loved each other.”
“But every time he had sex with you, he?— ”
“We didn’t?—”
“You were engaged but weren’t having sex.” His jaw dropped.
I wanted to vomit. “We did.” Shut up, Daisy. “We did have sex, just. . . just not very often.” Oh my god. Why can’t I shut my mouth? A flush of heat attacked my neck. A cruel exhibition of my shame. I’d been stupid. Na?ve. A fool.
“Didn’t that give you an idea something was wrong?”
I cleared my throat and lowered my gaze. “I thought it was me.”
“Oh, Red.” The sorrow in his voice had tears stinging my eyes. He placed his hand on my wrist. It was totally unexpected. Warm. Comforting. And delightful. “No wonder you’re so screwed up.”
“Hey.” I playfully slapped him. “I’m not screwed up.”
“No.” He nodded like he’d finally figured out a mathematical equation. “You’re right. But wow, now I know why you’re so uptight.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Hell, yes you are. You’re like a fucking spring that’s been squashed under a boot for years.”
“Really?” I shot him a ‘bullshit’ glare.
“Yes, really. The few times I’ve seen you laugh, it’s like you feel guilty for doing it.” Roman’s voice was way too calm. He spun on his chair, placing his knees on either side of mine. The worrisome mix of inquisitiveness and sadness in his eyes made my chest squeeze and my mind dread what he was about to say. “Don’t tell me that dipshit was your last shag?”
“I’m not telling you that! And his name is William.” I practically spat the name out but regretted it when Roman’s jaw dropped.
“Holy fuck. You do still love him. It all makes sense now.” Roman nodded, apparently piecing things together. His honey eyes softened. “How long’s it been since you broke up?”
Clamping my teeth together, I yanked that stupid curl from my cheek.
“Think of this as therapy.”
I scrunched up my face. “Therapy?”
“ Si . It’s good to talk about things.”
“Oh, really? I’ll remember that when you get cranky.”
“Do. I insist. But you’re changing the subject.”
Roman was like a backpacker lining up at a half-priced buffet, unlikely to give up. I huffed. “All right, if you must know, William moved out on the 13 th of February 2015.”
Roman’s eyeballs just about bounced right out of his head. “You’ve been pining for that bastardo for five years?”
I lowered my gaze to that freckle. How the hell did I get myself into this conversation?
“Hey.” Roman tapped his hand on my leg. “Want to talk about it?”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shook my head.
“Well, Red, I know what you need. You need mind-blowing sex.”
“Jeezzusss!” Gasping, I just about launched right off the bar stool. “Shush.” The smug look on the barman’s face confirmed he’d overheard.
A blaze of heat burned my cheeks. I wanted to die.
“ Si, si . That’s what you need.” Roman nodded. “A good fuck will get you over William .” He said his name like my ex was a corrupt politician. “Sex fixes everything.”
My brain screamed with inappropriate retorts. Not one of them reached my lips. When I dragged my eyes from the barman and met Roman’s gaze, I had hoped to see a jovial expression, any sign that he was joking. Nope. His furrowed brow and intense expression told me he was absolutely serious .
Faaark.
“Maybe not tonight. Or tomorrow.” Roman raised his drink and winked at me. “But before we drive the bus back into the yard in London, you’re going to have sex.”
I groaned. “Not going to happen.”
“Sure is. Even if I have to do it myself.”
My jaw dropped and a dose of tingles teased my pussy. It was unexpected. It was delicious. There must be a fucking straitjacket nearby with my name on it. Roman’s declaration wasn’t just messing with my brain; it had all my bits confused. And that was unprecedented. Me and my bits were just fine until I’d met him.
“It would be a dirty job, but someone has to do it.” Laughing, he tapped both his hands on my knees.
Despite feigning horror, I laughed with him. “Really? A dirty job.”
“Yep, but that’s what friends do.”
“Friends? We don’t even know each other.”
“Not yet. But we will. We’re stuck together for nearly an entire month.”
“Yeah. Great.” Shit, I’ll have to watch myself. It was only night two, and I’d already yabbered too much. When I’d left Australia, I had no intention of ever discussing William again. First, there was Azalia. She’d plied me full of alcohol and practically dragged it out of me. I was glad she had, though; our friendship had become much closer because I’d told her everything. She understood my pain. She got me. Nobody got me.
But now, there was Roman. There was something about him that made me reveal one of my darkest secrets. His calmness maybe. His freaky, fine-tuned intuition. His warm hands on my knees. And those eyes . . .
As much as I hated that I’d told him so much, it also felt good. Now I don’t have to dread every conversation. Thank you, Universe. Maybe Roman’s therapy was exactly what I needed.
Then again, maybe it was the bloody champagne.
“Say . . .” A frown drilled across Roman’s forehead. “Please tell me you’ve at least kissed a guy since then?”
My mind flashed to Pierre. “Of course I have.” I chose to be vague. Not that it was likely to help.
“When?”
I shrugged and acted like I couldn’t remember.
“Daisy, I know of your great memory skills. Tell me when you last kissed a guy. And I do not mean just a peck on the cheek.”
Shit. “Okay, if you must know, it was last night.”
His eyes bulged. “Mike?”
“Ewww. No. Why do you think it was him?” I gulped at my drink.
“Because he is hot for you, of course.”
I choked on my bubbles and liquid shot out of my nose. Roman patted my back, laughing, as I coughed up a lung. Wiping away the mess with a napkin, I struggled to catch my breath. “Shit, Roman. What’d he say?”
He flicked his hand. “Ahhh, you do not need the details.”
“Like hell I don’t. Why were you even talking about me?”
He spread his hands wide. “Well, we weren’t specifically talking about you. We were, you know, talking about everyone.”
“Oh, right, and he just said my name.”
He shrugged. “ Si , he did.”
I squinted at him, studying his expression. “Is this a joke?”
He clenched and unclenched his jaw, and I had a dreadful sense I was in for a lecture. “No, it’s not a joke. I would never do that. Mike said he liked you. He thought you were funny. That is all. ”
Roman’s refreshing candor had me lost for words. Men didn’t usually talk like that.
“Hey, you’re changing the subject.” He tapped his finger on the table. “Who did you kiss last night?” He clicked his fingers. “Was it another passenger? The New Zealander. . . what’s his name?”
“Samson? No.” I bulged my eyes at him. “All right. All right.” Rubbing my temples to combat the headache thumping behind my eyes, I blurted the name that’d been burning on my tongue for twenty-four hours. “It was Pierre.”
“Pierre. Who the fuck is Pierre?”
Faking a laugh, I said, “Sounds like a song.” I am such an idiot.
“See? You are funny.” He lightly brushed his hand over my knee. “So, who is Pierre?”
A heatwave shot right between my legs. That was exactly how Pierre had touched me just before he’d given me the kiss of all kisses.
“He’s the owner of Chateau de Vin et d'antiquités .”
“What?” Roman reached for his glass. “Where’s that?”
“It’s a restaurant I like, near the hostel.”
“Now I really need more info.” He gulped the last of his beer. “Ahhh ha!” His eyes grew wide. He leaned forward. “That’s why you were acting all crazy last night. You had sex?”
I gasped. The barman’s grin and unblinking gaze told me he’d overheard.
I want to die.
“You can tell me. It is okay,” Roman pleaded.
“Jesus. There’s nothing to tell. We kissed; that’s all.”
“Okay then.” His eyes flicked to my chest and back up again. “How did you lose your buttons?”
Jeez. I gripped the edge of the bar; fearful I’d slip right off the barstool. This conversation was not going the way I’d hoped. But if I didn’t tell him, Roman would grill me to the bottom of Europe and back. I sighed, sat up straight, looked him square in the eyes, and told him a summary of what’d happened. He didn’t need to know about Pierre’s probing fingers, and I left out the part about me running naked through the antiques.
He laughed a glorious, manly, contagious laugh that had me relaxing. “Well aren’t you a little sur prise package”
Yeah, welcome to the new, crazy Daisy Chayne.
He raised his glass. “ Salute .”
I attempted to smile as I chinked my flute to his. “It just happened. It wasn’t intentional.”
“You say that like it was a bad thing. There was nothing wrong with it.”
I gave him my best you’ve-got-to-be-fucking-joking look. “There was a lot wrong with it.”
“Like what? Name uno .”
“People saw me. Saw us,” I blurted the obvious.
“Who cares? You don’t know them. Besides, they are French; they get off on that stuff.”
I rolled his comment through my brain. When he put it like that, it didn’t sound so bad.
“Hmmm, okay what else?” he insisted.
It was a pointless argument. Men didn’t see things like women. That Mars-Venus thing hit a whole new level when it came to talking about sex. Lord knew, I’d tried numerous times with William. Then again, he hadn’t been the ideal sounding board.
“So.” Roman squeezed my knees.
My stupid horny insides did a lovely jig. With all these stunning men touching me, my previously dormant libido was suddenly getting a full-body workout.
“Are you going to go back and finish what you started?”
“What?” I jerked back. “No. Of course not. ”
His eyes dazzled with anticipation that scared the hell out of me. “It is time to eradicate dickwit from your memory.”
“It’s William, and you know I can’t erase my memory.”
“I bet we can.” His expression morphed into serious mode. “If you don’t get some sex during this tour, next time we’re in Paris, I’ll stop the bus right outside Pierre’s restaurant and make you go to him.” The dancing gold flecks in his eyes confirmed how serious he was.
A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach. “Look.” I shoved a curl from my cheek. “I admit, I could have a little more fun. But I don’t need sex to be happy.”
He winked at me. “Trust me. You will thank me.”
Clutching my glass, I gulped the last of my champagne. “No, I won’t be thanking you. With you around, the only thing getting screwed is my brain.”
“It’s already screwed.” Roman’s delightful grin drew me in with a mad kind of energy.
“Gee, thanks.” It was easy to get caught up in his aura.
But something else was going on.
I was starting to like him. Really, truly like him.
Like you-need-to-kiss-me-right-now kind of like.
I’m in serious trouble.