Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
A fter dinner, we waved off our group, the majority of whom were heading to Karlovy Lázně, a five-story dance club near Old Town. Somehow when the dust settled, it was just me and Roman left. YAY . And I had the perfect place I wanted to take him.
I grabbed his hand. “Come on, I want to show you this bar I found last year.”
Squeezing my palm to his, he let me lead him back through Old Town. The surrounding landmark attractions were lit with superb lighting, and the Church of Our Lady before Tyn that towered over Old Town Square looked even more gothic in the glow. Small food stalls offered everything from pickled cheese to wood-fired meats and giant sausages served in crusty bread, and Trdelník, or chimney cake, for those who couldn’t pronounce its traditional name, which was a donut-like treat shaped into a cylinder that was cooked over a fire and smothered in cinnamon sugar.
The air was crisp and many of the revelers were gathered around forty-four-gallon-drum fires, beer in one hand, food in the other, and smiles all around. Of all the town squares I’d been to in Europe, Old Town Prague, or Staré Mesto, was the most medieval-looking and vibrant. Every time I came here, I saw something new, and I left feeling blessed to have visited yet again.
Tonight though, I was going to show Roman another side to this extraordinary city.
The crowds in the square were both larger and rowdier than they’d been when we’d passed through earlier. And it was impossible not to get caught up in the excited vibe. Leading away from the square were several cobblestone alleyways, all offering the promise of something interesting to see.
Prague was known for its absinthe bars that were dotted around Old Town, but still clutching Roman’s hand, I led him to a bar that was like none I’d ever encountered in Europe. Aptly named Anonymous Bar, the venue did very little to attract attention—in particular tourist attention, which was exactly why it appealed to me. The entrance was dark and unwelcoming with absolutely no hint at what was inside.
“Where are you taking me?” Despite the limited light, Roman’s eyes still dazzled me.
“You’ll see.” Grabbing his hand, I tugged him behind me like we were a couple of schoolkids sneaking into a love tunnel.
We crossed over a tiny arched bridge and entered a dark hallway marked by enormous ropes attached to brass bollards. At the end, we pushed through yet another door and entered a room that was everything a secret bar should be—trendy, intriguing, and moody. A green light glowed beneath the countertop, and the wall behind the bar was dedicated to absinthe and gin and chartreuse, and dozens more colorful and potent alcoholic drinks that were guaranteed to knock you senseless.
The barman wore a white mask that was somehow both spooky and cheeky, and he was stirring a bright blue liquid in what looked like a giant test tube. The smoke that hung in the air had an interesting, sweet smell, like grilled oranges. Subtle acoustic music emanated from speakers dotted around the room. A dozen or so couples were seated at tiny, round tables that had been designed to seat only two people. The bar was the very definition of a speakeasy.
A man wearing long dark pants, a leather vest without a shirt beneath it, and a top hat greeted us and led us to a table at the back of the room. We sat and he handed us a couple of menus. When he left our side, Roman leaned across the table. “This place is great. How did you find it?”
“By accident. I was walking up that alley and saw a couple of women disappear inside. I followed them and found this.”
He turned toward the bar, his mouth slightly ajar as if something profound was about to whisper off his lips.
I pushed the menu toward him. “You need to order the first drink on the menu.”
Frowning, he glanced at the limited drink options. “The Enlightener?”
I nodded.
His grin was delightful as his eyes skimmed from me and caught the eye of the waiter.
The waiter glided over to our table and Roman pointed at the menu. “May I please have The Enlightener?”
The waiter nodded, pushed his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a small flashlight. He handed it to Roman and walked away.
“What the?—”
“Shine it on your menu.”
Roman’s grin grew to spectacular as he turned the light on.
Like an act in a magic show, the purple light lit up several secret cocktails. Roman’s expression was worth every cent the overpriced cocktails were going to cost.
“Ha. That’s so cool.” He ran his finger down the menu and I watched his expression evolve as he shifted from one cocktail description to the next. Glancing up at me, he frowned. “Do you know what you’re having?”
“I had three last time I came and they were all delicious.”
He snapped the menu closed and flashed another cheeky grin. “In that case, it’s your turn to choose for us.”
I flashed a bold grin right back at him. “Okay then.”
With the purple light illuminating the secret cocktails, I spied the one that had caught my attention last time. “For you, it has to be The Big V.”
He chuckled. “Big V? What’s the ‘ V ’ for?
I cocked my head. “Guess?”
He rolled through a few facial expressions, and I wished I had some of his mind-reading skills right now. Finally, he shrugged. “No idea.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” I waggled my head. “You have to guess.”
The waiter silently arrived at our side, ruining my moment. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, as if ready to karate-kick us rather than take our order, and nodded at Roman.
Roman used his hand to guide the waiter’s attention to me.
Thank you, Mr. Perfect.
I cleared my throat and nodded at Roman. “He will have The Big V, and I shall have The Message.”
The waiter slinked away, and Roman said, “What’s The Message?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
Roman cocked his head at me. “You’ve been in a cheeky mood all day. I think that naked spa was good for you. ”
“Yeah, I think it was too.” My mud bath with Rebecca and Jonas already felt like weeks ago.
“My sister told me about a nudist beach she went to in Brazil. She’d sat at a bar with her feet in the sand, sipping a Caipirinha cocktail in a coconut, overlooking hundreds of naked bodies.” Roman chuckled. “She fell asleep on a deck chair and got her bum so sunburnt she couldn’t sit for a week.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s something I would do.”
“She loved Brazil. Maybe that’s where you can go?” He shrugged. “After here, I mean.”
I sighed. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Are you sure you’ve tried every angle to renew your visa?”
“Well, short of staying illegally or finding some poor sucker to marry me, there’s nothing.”
Roman gazed at me across the table, and it was like he was reaching right into my soul. The damn waiter broke our spell again when he arrived to place a glass filled with narrow breadsticks on the table between us.
A second waiter came straight after him, wearing the white mask and carrying a tray with a few interesting items on it. I leaned back, ready to watch the ‘show’ and Roman. The waiter placed a copper challis-looking cup in front of Roman and indicated for Roman to ease backward. He did.
The waiter picked up a miniature saucepan and set the contents alight with a giant match. He collected a second pot, and holding the first higher than the other, he poured the flaming green liquid from one pot to the next. Roman’s eyes followed the flaming stream, and his expression showed his delight.
It was my delight too.
The waiter’s final pour was into Roman’s challis, to which he added a few other ingredients, gave it a stir, topped it with a candied orange, and then slinked away as silently as he’d approached.
My cocktail arrived with a layer of smoke oozing over the sides. A pole with a paper flag had been inserted into my glass. I showed Roman the blank flag, then, using our purple light, I lit up my message.
One day, your entire life will flash before your eyes.
Make sure it’s worth watching.
Roman tilted his head, and the lights captured his honey eyes perfectly as he nodded and raised his challis. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
We clinked our glasses and sipped our drinks. As I savored the delicious citrus-flavored cocktail, I hoped that my current vision was one that would flash before my eyes. But at the same time, I also wished that I had time to make many, many more of these memories. “How’s your Big V?”
“Delicious. Is it ‘ V ’ for virgin?”
“Nope. I thought you’d say that.”
“Yeah, ’cause it’s the first time I’ve tried it. What about victory?”
I shook my head.
“Venus.”
“Nope.”
“Voluptuous.” His eyes were alive with mischief.
I sipped my drink, acting as cool as an ice cube. But my insides were having a little party. Roman was a tease and I was still uncertain whether he knew it or not. Finally, I said, “You’ll never guess.”
“Okay, I give up.”
“It’s ‘ V’ for Vendetta.”
He huffed and his eyes twinkled. “I like voluptuous better.”
The bugger was flirting with me, and damn, if my body wasn’t reacting to those eyes with the most delicious sensations coursing through me.
Roman drained his drink and plonked his challis down. “What are we going to try next?”
“Oh.” I couldn’t believe how quickly he’d drunk that. But, happy to get him tipsy for a change, I grabbed the menu and the purple light and scanned the list. No sooner had I turned out the light than our leather-vested waiter returned.
“We’ll have a Unicorn for me, and my friend here will have the Treasure Hunter.”
Roman slipped back on his seat, and when he ran his hands through his hair and pursed his lips, I had a feeling he was going to say something very important. He didn’t. He just sat and looked at me.
So, keeping my cool, I sipped the last of my drink and stared at him across the table, waiting for him to say whatever was on his mind.
But our drinks arrived before we reached that point. My drink was delivered in a tall, narrow glass displaying three different colors—red, blue, and white. And when I stirred them together, they became a vibrant purple color. Roman’s was a clear liquid with a giant ball of ice at the bottom. Inside the ball was an orange liquid and his straw had pierced the ice ball, giving him direct access.
He leaned forward and sipped from the inside of the cube. His eyes rolled. “Oh, yum. You have to try this.” He glided the glass toward me.
I sipped on the straw. The liquor was sweet and strong and potent. “Butterscotch schnapps.”
He nodded as I slid the glass back to him. He sucked on the straw again and his eyes swooped down to my cleavage. But then the craziest thing happened . . . they lingered there.
This was no quick peek. This was a full-on perv.
Either that or I’d spilled something on my boobs and he couldn’t drag his eyes away. I glanced down to check. Nope, all good there. Yet Roman remained transfixed. Maybe he’d slipped into a coma.
My damn girly bits were performing their own little dance party and I wanted to scream at the injustice.
Roman was cruel, and my body was evil.
I pushed my half-finished drink aside and snapped my fingers at him. “Hey, what’re you looking at?”
“Nothing.” His eyes did a quick roll and I thought he was going to topple off his chair.
Holy shit. Roman is drunk.
That was another first for my list.
“You were checking out my boobs.”
“No, I wasn’t.” He swatted his hands as if shooing a fly. “Okay, maybe a little peek.” He held his thumb and finger as if measuring an inch.
I giggled. “That wasn’t a little peek.”
“It wasn’t?” Roman gave me a look that I assumed was attempting to portray sweet and innocent. But it was just cute. Even drunk, he was sexy.
“No, it wasn’t.”
He smacked his lips together. “I’m sorry. I’m a bad boy.”
I giggled again, and as he sucked up all that lovely schnapps, the angel and devil in my brain struck up a furious debate.
You should take him home, Daisy.
No, now’s your chance to ask him all those tricky questions he avoids.
Don’t be so mean.
Mean! Ha. He’d do it to you.
Roman made obscene sucking noises with his straw and he did a little shudder like he’d snapped out of a trance. He burped, and I bulged my eyes at him.
Aha . So, Mr. Perfect is normal after all .
He swayed to the left, maybe trying to capture the waiter’s attention. But he went so far, I readied to catch him before he twisted right off the chair.
This was a first for us. Normally it was him looking out for me. Maybe my cocktails hadn’t been as potent as his. Whatever it was, it was a bloody miracle.
He swung back to me and blinked as if trying to shake a fog from his brain.
“You okay?”
“My drink’s empty.” He pulled a sad face.
As much as it was cute to see him like this, my practical mind was telling me to get him home while he was still able to stand. At least, I thought he could stand. “Hey, Roman, maybe I should take you home.”
His eyes bulged and he gasped. For a second, I thought he was going to say something that would have my vagina break dancing. “But you haven’t finished your drink.”
And there he went again—cruel and cute. “No more for me. I’m done.”
He reached for my glass. “You can’t waste it.”
As he sipped on the drink, I waved at the waiter, indicating I wanted the bill. I turned my attention back to Roman and studied the man who was driving me crazy.
How was it possible to want someone so badly, but want to resist him so badly at the same time? I already knew my heart was going to shatter into a million pieces very soon. It was the severity of that implosion that I was hoping to minimize.
The waiter arrived. I slipped my credit card into the billfold, and he spun away again.
Ten minutes later, we were outside. I’d positioned Roman’s arm across my shoulder and wrapped my arm around his waist, tugging us together as we staggered up the street. People were everywhere. Yet nobody seemed to notice us. We were just another drunk couple trying to get home.
Every step forward was a demonstration in strength and accuracy as I tried to hold him up and make his legs go in one direction. At the end of the street where the cobblestone lane met Old Town Square, the crowd had tripled. Now not only did I have to manage Roman, but I also had to stop us from bumping into anyone.
“Hey.” Roman pointed toward a bar that was lit up like a Christmas tree. “Let’s have a drink.”
I chuckled. “I don’t think so, big fella. I’ve gotta get you home.”
“Awww. You’re so mean.”
I’m mean! He was the one who flirted with me till I wanted to come in my pants, and then he’d casually remind me yet again that we were just friends. Our relationship was toxic.
It was an eternity before we reached our hotel, and in the elevator, I propped him up against the wall so I could press the button. His eyes were closed. Shit. Is he asleep? “Hey, Roman, where’s your room key?”
He dragged his eyes open in a way that suggested they weighed a ton. “Huh?”
“Your room key. Where is it?”
He went to push his hand into his pants pocket but missed and fell forward. His arms wrapped around me, and we stumbled backward, squishing me against the mirror.
“Righty-ho.” I gripped onto him, inhaling his delightful cologne that made me swoon every time.
Roman was a good hugger; this was not one of his best.
We stumbled out at his floor, and still wrapped together with him waddling backward, we crab-walked to his room. Feeling like a desperado, I fished his room key from his pants pocket .
Trying not to picture what else was in his pants was impossible.
By some miracle, I managed to open his door and wrestle him into the room while he was still upright. But we shot across the floor like we were on roller skates and toppled onto his bed in a tangle of arms and legs.
Both of us burst out laughing, and as he flopped back, I wrestled my arm from beneath his back and sat on the edge of his bed.
Roman looked peaceful. Even in a drunken stupor, he was stunning. His tousled hair and flushed cheeks gave him a rugged look. And his cherry-popsicle lips were a darker shade of cherry than usual and totally kissable.
I should kiss him goodnight.
Bloody hell! My devil brain was evil.
But as I stared at those lips, my insides curled in a delightful tease, strengthening my desire to kiss him.
Like he was somehow reading my mind, his tongue glided over his bottom lip, giving me a sexy invite.
With my breath trapped in my throat, I leaned forward, closed my eyes, and touched my lips to his. His hand curled across my neck, sending glorious shivers through me.
A groan tumbled from his throat, matching my own mewling sounds. He opened his mouth and when our tongues danced in a delightful quest to taste each other, the angel and devil in my brain started debating again.
What the fuck are you doing? He’s drunk.
He doesn’t seem too drunk to me.
You’re taking advantage of him.
He’s not complaining.
What if it was you in his position?
Damn it! The angel was right.
I pushed away from him and his eyes blinked open. Little by little, he seemed to come out of his stupor. He scanned around the room. “Hey, we’re home.”
“Yes, we’re home.”
He pulled a sad face. “But we were having so much fun.”
“I know. But you’re drunk.”
He did an exaggerated wink that was cuteness off the charts. “I’m not drunk.”
“Goodnight, Roman.” I went to stand, but he grabbed my hand.
“Don’t go.” He smiled up at me and it was as sexy as it was dangerous. “Come on. Stay with me.” Roman wriggled over on the bed and patted the sheet beside him. “Please?”
Oh, God. My mind was saying don’t do it. But my body was a naughty girl.
I kicked off my shoes and crawled in beside him. At first, I was as stiff as a surfboard, but when he rolled toward me, I melted into his warmth. I curled to my side so my back was to his chest, spooning us together.
The stupid boning in my damn bra threatened to poke my eyeballs out. So, figuring Roman was so out of it he wouldn’t notice, I eased up on my elbow, reached around, and undid the clip. Then, doing the contortionist move I’d done a thousand times over, I wrestled my bra straps over my shoulders and yanked the bloody thing through the armhole of my shirt before flinging it to the floor.
Free at last, I lay down again, easing backward until our bodies were aligned. Like the sun and the moon.
Roman’s arm inched over my side and rested beneath my boobs. I could hardly breathe. My heart thundered in my chest, belting out an excited beat. This was the most perfect moment of my life. It was better than watching a dazzling sunrise over ancient ruins, or drinking exquisite wine in an ancient winery. This, me curled up in bed with Roman, was what dreams were made of .
I’d officially slipped into heaven.
Roman nuzzled into me and my flesh tingled at his hot breath on my neck. “I love you.”
My heart stopped. My eyes shot open, and as I stared at the tiny indicator light on the smoke alarm, I replayed his words in my head. Did he really say that? Or was it my stupid imagination?
I had to know.
I rubbed my hand over his arm. “What did you say?”
“I said I love you.” He didn’t hesitate.
A warm glow flooded me. I’d waited my whole life for this moment. I wriggled my back closer to him, and as I glided my hand over his arm, I said the words that had been burning in my soul for weeks. “I love you too, Roman.”