Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
A waiter arrived to escort us to a table, and Roman indicated for me to lead the way. The walls were a rich rust color and lush green foliage spilled from bold-colored pots dotted everywhere.
A display of wine bottles created a feature behind the dark mahogany bar, and the men and women seated in high-backed barstools were all drinking vibrantly colored cocktails.
We sat at a corner table, offering us a view down the middle of the restaurant, and the waiter took our drink order—a beer for Roman and a glass of wine for me.
When the waiter left, I asked, “How did you know about this place?”
“My sister Donatella—she’s the oldest one—she went to Brazil a few years ago and raved about churrasco. So, I googled to see if there was one here for us to try.”
I can’t believe he did that for me. And just like that, Mr. Perfect hit yet another level of amazing.
It was impossible to understand why Caterina had done what she did. She would probably regret it for the rest of her life.
“Why did your sister choose Brazil?”
“Followed a guy there, but it didn’t last long. Didn’t stop her though. She’s done loads of traveling. All my sisters have. I’m the only one who needs to pick up my game. It’s why I took this job.”
I nodded, understanding that quest completely. “Same.”
Note number two—Roman would like a woman who wants to travel. Check.
Our drinks arrived and Roman raised his glass. “ Salute . Here’s to trying something new together.”
My heart melted. “To something new together.” We clinked our glasses and looked into each other’s eyes as we sipped our drinks. If I died and went to heaven right now, I’d die the happiest person in the world. Roman had that way about him. He made me feel like I was the only person in the room.
William had always made me feel like I was the elephant in the room.
Why, oh, why couldn’t I find a man like Roman? One who cared for me enough to put me first?
Grrrr. Stay in the moment.
“So . . .” Trying to hold back the smirk curling on my lips, I raised my hand to count off my points as I went. “You want a woman who likes travel.” I raised one finger. “And you want a woman who eats like a pig.”
His jaw dropped. “I didn’t say that.”
“Gotcha.” I grinned my cheekiest grin.
“Very funny.”
“So, what else appeals to you?”
He squinted at me, flashing an I-know-what-you’re-doing look. “You giving me the ol’ twenty questions. Si?”
“Sure. Why not? I told you we’re going to get you laid this month. I need to know what you’re looking for in a woman.” I sipped my drink, all cocky with myself at hitting Roman with his own game.
“Okay, well for starters, she needs a vagina.”
Wine shot out my nose and as I coughed and gasped, swallowing back the liquid that’d gone down the wrong way. Roman burst into laughter.
“You bastard.”
“Gotcha.” When Roman truly smiled, everything about him glowed. His eyes, his face, even his personality.
He shuffled his chair toward me, and as his warm hand rubbed my back, my girly bits started breakdancing. Stop it, Daisy! Roman is just being nice. Like he is with everyone.
“Okay.” I dabbed my napkin to my chin. “So, she needs to like eating, traveling and must have a vagina. Check.”
Roman was fighting laughter, and when I looked over my shoulder, the waiter was right there. His wide eyes and gaping mouth confirmed he’d heard what I’d said. I wanted to crawl under the table and die.
The pimply-faced waiter adjusted the glasses on his nose, and smiling like a randy teenager, said, “May I take your order?”
“Sorry. We haven’t had a chance to study the menu.” Roman saved me from having to talk. “Can you explain how this works?”
“Oh, sure.” The waiter turned and pointed toward the kitchen where two chefs were turning skewered meats above a large open flame.
As he explained the concept behind churrasco cuisine, I studied Roman. Why did he want to spend time with me? It didn’t make sense. He should be with the guys on our tour, clubbing or pubbing. Yes, he’d said he’d rather be with women any day. But me? I wasn’t exactly the life of the party. Maybe he felt sorry for me after the Pierre fuck-up .
Was that it? Was he hosting my very own pity party?
Oh, God, I hoped not. I drank my wine and listened to the rest of the waiter’s description.
We placed our orders and the waiter topped up our drinks, snuck a glance at my cleavage, then slinked away.
“Well, that was embarrassing.”
“You probably made his night.” The lights danced in Roman’s eyes.
“Maybe.” I gulped more wine. “Now. Let’s get back to you. What else do you like in a woman? We’ve got food, travel, and . . .” I glanced over my shoulder to confirm we were alone. “. . . a vagina.” I held up three fingers. “What else?”
He clutched his beer and the stern expression that crawled onto his face gave me a terrible feeling I’d crossed a line and he was about to get up and leave. After a large drink, he plonked his beer down. “Two years ago, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted. Now, after fucking that up, I have no idea. So”—he shrugged— “I’m open to suggestions.”
“You didn’t fuck it up, Roman. Caterina did.”
He wobbled his head, maybe contemplating. “She would not have done what she did if things were right.”
Oh jeez, how did I respond to that? I had nothing. Thankfully the waiter arrived to set our cutlery, providing a suitable distraction.
When he left, I reached across the table, placing my hand on Roman’s forearm. “There is never an excuse to cheat on your partner. Never. If Caterina was so unhappy, she should’ve talked to you about what was wrong.”
He nodded, but his expression confirmed he was a million miles away.
I wanted to wrap my arms around him and take away all that hurt. But nothing could remove that pain. It would always be there, smoldering in the background, just waiting for some random thing to reignite that spark. “Hey, you can’t blame yourself. Especially if you thought she was happy.”
He clamped his jaw, bulging the muscles along his chin. “Maybe I missed the signs.”
“The signs? What? Like her whacking you over the head with a rolling pin if you left your socks on the floor?”
He huffed. “Is that what you’d do?”
“Hell yeah. Socks on the floor is a definite deal-breaker for me.”
His huff turned into a chuckle. “Wow, that’s tough.”
“That’s not tough. Things would get real nasty if dirty undies were left on the floor.”
Roman reached for his beer, raised it to his lips, then paused. “Did you see any signs with dickwit?”
I didn’t feel the need to correct Roman’s name for William. Maybe there was some hope for getting over an ex after all. “No.” I huffed out a huge sigh. “I had no idea he was gay until he told me. I thought we were in love, and we’d spend the rest of our lives together. Happy.”
“ Sì . Me too.”
The sadness in his eyes was crushing. I needed to up the mood before we both ended up crying in our drinks. “Hey, you told me sex fixed everything, right?”
He tilted his head to the side and met my gaze. “ Sì . And?”
“Well, did you mean it?”
“Of course. I never lie.”
I cocked my head. “You never lie?”
“No. There is never a reason to lie.”
“Really? What about if I asked you if my bum looked big in my jeans?”
“Daisy, your bum wouldn’t look big in anything.”
My jaw dropped. I blinked at him and blinked some more.
He burst out laughing. “You should see your face. ”
“Oh, my god. I can’t believe you’ve been checking out my ass.” As my heart fluttered, I took a large sip of my wine.
“Ahh, no, I haven’t been ‘checking out your ass,’ as you say. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed it at all.” He raised his beer to his lips, and wriggling his eyebrows, said, “See? I don’t lie.”
“Right, in that case, tell me this: Do you like a woman who is athletic? You know, into sport?”
Roman grinned. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“No. I need to know what you’re looking for in a woman so I can get you laid.”
Roman glanced over my shoulder and burst out laughing.
Oh, God. The waiter was back. “Why do you keep sneaking up on me?” I was a bit louder than I intended.
“I, ummm, sorry.” His eyes bulged, and his jaw dropped like he’d walked in on his parents having sex. Poor thing looked set to run away crying.
Shit! Now I felt bad. I let out a hearty laugh, hoping it didn’t sound too fake. “Only joking. But seriously, you’ve got a bloody good stealth mode.”
The waiter placed two empty plates down and dashed off without a word.
“We need to swap places.” I stood, not taking no for an answer.
“Really?”
“Yes, quick. Before he comes back.”
We exchanged chairs and swapped our drinks over.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yep. Your view is way better.”
A different waiter returned with a giant rod skewered with beef that was lightly charred on the edges. I salivated at the delicious aromas as he carved the meat onto our plates. When he left, a different waiter again arrived with our sides .
“I think you scared him off,” Roman said once we were alone.
“Well, that’ll teach him.” I gathered my knife and fork. “This smells so good. I’m starving.”
“Sure does. Buon appetite .”
We shared out the side dishes and as we ate our meals, Roman told me all about the other wonderful places his sisters had traveled to.
Our conversation flowed so naturally; it was like we’d known each other forever. We sipped our drinks and ordered more. Our discussion flitted from one topic to the next. It was delightful and interesting, and everything in the whole world I’d been missing. Only I hadn’t realized it until now. Pierre had said I was lonely for love. But really, I’d just been lonely.
Without Zali around, I’d forgotten what it was like to have a true friend to talk to. An unprecedented feeling of completeness embraced me. If ever I found a man to spend the rest of my life with, I hoped we could have loads of wonderful long conversations like Roman and I were having right now.
Dragging my mind back to our conversation, I asked, “So, your mamma is okay with them traveling?”
His eyes bulged. “Ahhh, no. Mamma doesn’t sleep until they come home.”
“Is she the same with you?”
“No.”
I did a double-take. “No?”
He grinned. “She’s worse. I’m the baby in the family, but she carries on like I’m a teenager.”
I was once again reminded of how different our lives were. “Well, in her defense, you do act rather immature.”
His mouth gaped. “Oh, I do, do I?”
“Yep. ”
We laughed together, in sync like best friends who’d been paired for years.
The meal was as delicious as it promised. The meat was tender, juicy, and full of flavor. I’d never tasted anything like it, and I didn’t know if I was trying to impress Roman with my amazing appetite, but I ate everything on my plate, which was way more than I should have. By the end, my jeans were just about cutting me in two.
I excused myself from the table, and as I waddled to the bathroom, I expected my jeans button to shoot halfway across the room. But my waddle wasn’t just because I’d eaten too much. I’d also had more than enough to drink. Roman was a little sneaky, constantly topping up my wine and saying salute in that sexy Italian accent of his. Maybe he wanted to get me drunk and do weird things to me.
Oh, faaark. No more wine for Daisy!
When I returned to Roman, he was already up and standing by the front door.
“Oh, you didn’t pay, did you?”
“ Sì , but it was my treat.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“It’s okay.” His expression darkened. “Let’s not argue about that.”
The way he said it, with a pleading lilt, convinced me that it was a topic that he’d argued over many times. Not wanting to add to his angst, I said, “Okay, but next time, it’s my turn.”
“Done.”
We stepped onto the footpath which was still bustling with diners. Just as many seemed to be arriving for dinner as there were leaving.
“You ready to work off some of that food?”
“Ummm. What?” My eyes bounced up to his beaming grin, and my brain bounced to a vision of the two of us getting naked and doing a certain kind of workout .
Oh, God! What the hell is wrong with me?
“I hope you like to dance?”
“Dance?” I blurted. I was not a dancer. Me and my boobs had absolutely no rhythm.
“ Sì . My friend told me about a nightclub near here and I thought we’d check it out.”
A nightclub. Oh crap. Worst nightmare! “Oh, jeez.” I made a show of rubbing my belly. “I’m so full.”
“Exactly. You can’t go to bed on a full stomach. Come on. It’ll be fun.”
Fun? Hell no. If I’d been a dog, I would’ve planted my feet and dragged my ass along the pavement.
But I got distracted watching Roman’s butt bulge and flex ahead of me as he waved down a taxi. Before I knew it, we were in the back seat, and he was giving directions to our driver. I’d thought his Italian accent was sexy, but his French had my insides swooning.
Oh, God. No. More. Wine. For. Me.
The trip was just ten minutes, barely enough time for me to fake a migraine.
Music vibrated through the taxi windows before the car had come to a complete stop. The crowd was enormous. All the young, beautiful people in the world had decided tonight was the night to go clubbing. Lucky me. Not!
When we climbed out of the taxi, Roman slotted into the crowded line like he was destined to be there, and as if he’d had a flashing halo above his head, women everywhere turned to ogle him. Their exaggerated smiles were a touch creepy.
But he truly was oblivious. Maybe he needed his eyes tested.
He grabbed my hand and led me along the queue.
“Where are we going?” I stammered. “I think the end of the line is back there.” I pointed over my shoulder .
“It’s okay.”
If the girls waiting in line had weapons, I was sure I would have been reduced to a bloody pulp on the pavement. I hoped Roman knew what he was doing. A man whose biceps could probably crush coconuts stood at a giant black door. Roman strode up to him without any hesitation and said something that I had no hope of comprehending.
The bouncer, remaining mute, stepped aside and with one giant arm, held open the door. Roman dragged me past the muscle mountain and through the entrance.
The noise outside was mere background music compared to the thumping hell inside. It pounded through my chest playing havoc with my heartbeat. Roman led me through the crowd, apparently knowing exactly where he was going.
Colored laser beams shone across the room above everyone, spearing the smoke suspended in the air. At random intervals, a laser beam illuminated the entire space like we’d been hit by lightning and the revelers reacted to each flare by pitching into a frenzy of cheers.
With each flash, I took in more of the building. Based on its Romanesque architecture, complete with giant columns that held up the roof, I guessed the building to be at least two hundred years old. Its massive size suggested that it was originally a government building or maybe a nunnery. The original architect would probably curl in his grave if he knew what was going on inside his beautiful building now.
It was impossible to move without bumping into someone, yet nobody seemed to care. Everyone was lost in their own world, dancing to the beat and moving like their bodies were plugged directly into the soundwaves.
Halfway across the room, Roman stopped and turned to me, beaming.
Apparently, we’d reached our destination . . . right, smack-bang in the middle of the giant dance floor .
Every single person around us was gyrating to music that was so loud I doubted I’d be able to hear for a week. There were no lyrics—it was just a beat and tempo.
All the beautiful women near us were checking Roman out. They were probably wondering what the hell a guy like him was doing with an ugly duckling like me.
Roman’s dance moves were synchronized to the music like he knew the song.
He probably did.
It was a brutal reminder of just how much younger than me he was. Four years could be a lifetime when it came to nightlife preferences. When I was curled up in bed at night, Roman was most likely checking out the dance scene.
It hit home that we really were in different stages of our lives.
It also occurred to me that maybe he’d asked me along out of pity. My heart wanted to cry.
But as I watched him and began to make some of my own music-inspired moves, everything around us seemed to vanish. My mind stopped churning and my body started jerking and jiving with reactions that made zero sense yet somehow felt right.
Soon, it was just me and Roman, looking at each other and dancing like we’d lost all self-control. Roman was a rock star, commanding attention with dance moves that hit the right beats. While I was disjointed, he was fluid. While I struggled to catch my breath, on account of the mountain of food I’d eaten sitting heavy in my stomach, he looked like he could dance all night long.
I added another item to Roman’s list—he wanted a woman who liked to dance.
I should ask him more questions, but even attempting conversation was pointless. It was the worst place for a date.
Not that this was a date. Nope. Not a date at all .
We were just two coworkers having a dance. Nothing more.
I scanned the women near me, wondering if any of them would suit Roman.
But it was impossible to tell in this limited light.
It was also impossible to tell when a song stopped and a new one started.
Minutes became hours. The beat never changed. The crowd never abated.
And I soon forgot that I was in the middle of a crowd. Thousands of people surrounded me, and yet, other than Roman, nobody paid any attention to me. I felt invisible. I relaxed enough to break out all my best dance moves. My hips moved in ways I’d never thought possible, and my wobbling tits gave my sexy red bra another workout. I pointed my fingers this way and that. I spun around and clapped.
It felt so good to just let go. I laughed so hard I could hardly breathe.
It was the weirdest fun I’d ever had. I’d never been to a nightclub, so it was definitely going on my list of firsts when I got home.
I lost all sense of time, and it was an eternity before Roman leaned into my ear and yelled, “Let me know when you want to go.”
For all I knew, it could have been daylight outside.
As much as I wanted to stay and watch him dance all night long, I was absolutely exhausted. My legs were likely to pack in and topple me to the floor at any moment.
But, not wanting to seem too eager, I said, “Two more songs.”
Nodding and grinning, he upped his dance moves.
My two-song limit took forever. And ever. I was on the verge of passing out when he finally grabbed my hand and led me through the gyrating throng.
In the back of the taxi, I leaned against his shoulder and within seconds, I was struggling to keep my eyes open.
“Hey, Daisy.”
His arm curled off my shoulder, and I sat up with a jolt. I’d fallen asleep.
“Oh, sorry.” I wiped my mouth, hoping I hadn’t dribbled. Or snored.
“It’s okay. We’re here.”
I blinked out the window. I must’ve slept for a good twenty minutes. Trying to clear the fog from my head, I climbed out, barely registering that Roman was paying for the taxi.
Damn . I made a mental note to fix him up for that too.
My body throbbed like crazy as we crossed the hostel lobby and my ears were ringing so loudly, it was a wonder I could hear anything else.
I was so knackered; I’d probably sleep for a week. Yet if Roman asked me to do it again tomorrow night, I’d jump at the chance.
In the elevator, I bumped my hip to Roman’s side. “Thank you for a wonderful night.”
He tilted his head, and when he gave me that little sister look, I imagined that was what it was like to be part of a loving family. “Thank you too. You were loads of fun.”
Tiny little butterflies in my stomach hit disco mode.
When I finally crawled into bed, I pictured that glorious look in his eyes until I drifted off into blissful sleep.