Chapter 8 #2
I glance around, taking in my surroundings now that I’ve solved the lighting problem.
There are boxes everywhere, but they’re neatly stacked and labeled clearly in blocky handwriting.
Every box in the dining room is labeled DR, and beneath that is a list of the box’s contents.
I blink in surprise at the order he’s already brought to the inherent chaos of relocation.
And then, although I shouldn’t care, I find myself wondering: Which person is Roman Drake really?
Deep down, is he the smirking, carefree twenty-something?
Or is he the shrewd, organized, sharp-sensed man I saw briefly yesterday?
The one who spoke freely and confidently about transactions, the one whose home is being kept much like I would keep my own in the process of moving?
I clear my throat and shake the question from my mind, because the answer doesn’t matter. Then I look at Roman, who hasn’t moved an inch. “Where should I start?”
It’s this, finally, that pulls him away from his easy pose. He nods at the French doors on the other side of the foyer. “I’d start there, if I were you. It’s the study, and it will pose the biggest challenge.”
A study. The image of papers and folders and books and file cabinets fills my mind, and excitement floods through me.
“Perfect,” I say. “Can I take off my shoes?”
“Do your feet stink?”
I look at him, affronted. “I never stink.”
“Then go ahead.”
I slip my shoes off and set them neatly by the door before letting myself into the study, flipping the lights on and examining the room.
It’s just what I pictured: musty with wood-paneled walls, a desk, a few filing cabinets, several boxes labeled books, and a wall of shelves with cabinets beneath.
“I’ll be honest. I don’t know what’s in here,” Roman admits from behind me, and I startle forward before turning to look at him. “I haven’t dug around yet. My grandpa died a long time ago, and he was the one who used this room. I’m not sure my grandma did much with it.”
“That’s fine,” I say vaguely, mentally creating a plan of action. I open the windows to start out, of course, which is an immediate improvement. “Do you have cleaning supplies? I won’t need it for a while, but if something needs wiping down before I get to the rest I’d like to have it on hand.”
“I’ll bring you some,” he says with a nod.
“Do you have any particular system you prefer? As far as organization goes? Alphabetical, dates, all that?”
“None,” he says. “Do whatever you think is best. And take as long as you need.”
“I will.” I’m going to start with the desk and the filing cabinets, I think. So I take the hair tie from my wrist and pull my hair into a quick ponytail, relishing the feeling of the breeze on my neck.
Then I get to work.
Or, rather, I try to.
I’ve only emptied the top left drawer of the desk when I feel eyes on me, and looking over my shoulder, I find Roman still standing there. He’s leaning against the doorframe now, arms folded across his chest once more, a pleasantly interested look on his face.
My response is less pleasant, because if I’m going to work, I’d like to not be distracted. “What are you doing?”
“Why?” he says, raising an eyebrow at me. “I can go if I’m making you uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable,” I say, but the words come out curtly, and he lets out a low whistle.
“You’re touchy today.”
“What—am I prettier when I smile?”
A ghost of amusement flashes through his eyes at this, but he doesn’t answer.
Fine. I can ignore him.
Except…I can’t. I make it through three drawers, each one’s contents laid in neat piles on the floor, before I finally snap. I whirl around and glare at Roman.
“Are you really just going to stand there?” I demand.
He hums. “Maybe.” Then, after a pause, he says, “Tell me why you need the money.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“That’s what you said before.”
“Yes, well. It was true then too.”
When he doesn’t reply, I sigh. I have no one but myself to blame for the situation I’m in. I may as well own up to it, considering I’m earning back as much money as possible from Roman.
“I cosigned a business loan with an old business partner,” I say grudgingly, leaning back against the desk and resting for a minute.
His eyes sparkle with interest as he tilts his head. “An ex?”
I don’t answer, but my cheeks heat enough that he can probably tell anyway.
“An ex,” he repeats, but it’s not a question now. “Very trusting.”
“Anyway, he defaulted,” I go on, and I hate how stupid I feel. “So I have to pay the balance.”
When a smile spreads over his face, I glare at him again, my irritation simmering just below the surface. “Is this funny to you?”
“Not at all,” Roman says cheerfully. “I just continue to find myself baffled by the men you allow into your life. Especially given your…” He trails off delicately, waving one hand at me, and I bristle.
“Given my…what?” I say.
“Your overall demeanor,” he says. “I suppose you like men you don’t have to take too seriously.”
This hits closer to home than I prefer, so I ignore it. “Anyway, I find myself in sudden need of extra funds.”
He tilts his head. “Have you talked to this guy yet?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Do you need help tracking him down?” he goes on. “Because I have resources—”
“I’m not having this conversation with you,” I say firmly. Then I jerk my chin at him, straightening up once more. “Now answer me. Are you going to stay there?”
“Depends.” His lips tug into a little smile, and somehow the dimples make him look even more youthful. “Tell me to leave.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“Tell me to leave,” he repeats. “If you want me to go, tell me to go. Don’t be shy.”
My brows furrow into a frown, my hand tightening around the stapler I’m holding. “I’m not shy.”
He looks at me expectantly, and although he doesn’t say anything, I can hear his message loud and clear: Prove it.
“Go,” I say with a roll of my eyes. I point out the door and resist the urge to stomp my foot like a child. “Please. Now. Leave.”
And with a satisfied smirk and a sardonic bow, he turns silently and leaves my sight.
I mutter several unflattering things under my breath, startling when I hear his voice.
“Sorry, did you say something?” he calls, and I clear my throat.
“Nope. Nothing.”