46. Isabel
When I saw the black Range Rover parked on our street, I knew it was him. Grief and heartache conspired into boiling rage. What was he doing here? Making sure I didn’t plan on breaching the Belmont’s precious NDA? As if I’d admit to the world what a damn fool I’d been.
I stormed into the apartment, adamant to show him that he was messing with the wrong woman. And that if he wanted a battle, I was willing to take off the gloves and let this go all the way to the Colosseum, Gladiator-style.
Worked up and bloodthirsty, claws bared, I faced off with Roman, desperately trying to ignore the heat flaring between my thighs when I saw him standing in my room. So goddamn handsome, intense, ruffled, his talking vein throbbing, and ensconced in a gleam of misery.
How was I not able to despise this man? Apparently suffering the worst humiliation in the world wasn’t going to diminish my ravenous appetite for a man who clearly had no qualms about duping a woman with a false narrative to get his way.
Which then turned out to not be false and basically all my fault for jumping to conclusions without asking questions first. Imagine how stupid I felt. He had an evil brother?
Of course in hindsight I realized the man slobbering over Celeste in that picture wasn’t wearing a Savile Row bespoke suit, but rather a more flamboyant Italian-made one. If you could call it flamboyant. Shock had definitely clouded my objectivity at the time.
I won’t even pretend that being lured back into Roman’s arms didn’t melt all the pain away. And all my resistance crumbled once he whispered into my ear, his voice like liquid gold.
“We’ll never be done. And you know that.”
My breathing faltered, and my pulse fluttered in response. “No, I don’t know that,” I whispered. “I really don’t.”
His expression morphed into a raw display of agony. “Then it’s probably time that you do, my sweet. I’ve told you before, I don’t get a minute of rest from thinking about you. And if you think I don’t worry about any of this getting too much for you, or that you might get tired of me, then think again. It’s my biggest fear. From the very moment I first saw you, nothing in my life has been the same. And it never will be again. Nor do I want it to be. And God knows, all I want is for you to feel the same way.”
Before he could say another word, I kissed Roman. And when he kissed me back it was deep and demanding and utterly possessive, sending a field of goosebumps all over my skin. And the usual shiver tiptoeing across my spine.
Then he murmured into my mouth. “And next time…please, for the love of God, tell me what’s going on before assuming what someone’s telling you is the gospel truth. My heart won’t be able to take this again.”
All I could do was nod. He greedily etched my face with his eyes, and when his mouth dipped to the hollow in my throat, I pulled back the tiniest of bits. “Let me shower first. I’m sweaty.”
“I like you sweaty,” he mumbled as his tongue swept over my throat. “I like it very much.”
“Jesus Christ, get a room you two,” Meg begged, slurping on the dregs of her second cocktail. “I’m like right here.”
Roman laughed, still trapping my gaze. “Which brings me to the next thing,” he said. “I think we went about this the wrong way, and I’ll take the blame for that. But it changes now. Normal couples go on dates and get to know each other. And that’s what we need to do. Sex has just been getting in the way.”
The scorching fire between my thighs disagreed wholeheartedly. “Say what now?”
“Yes,” Roman continued oh-so-casually. “I think we should date first, even if it’s just going for a drink or a dinner at the Belmont Hotel, or lunch at the estate. And a goodbye kiss at the end of the date. Maybe no sex for a while.”
“Was that another Google search?” I asked tersely, my hope for a flaming hot reconciliation dwindling faster than the speed of light. “You’re just picking up a whole lot of wisdom from the internet, aren’t you?”
Roman bit back a smile. “Only you to hold my attempted chivalry against me, but here we are. So, are we in agreement that’s what we should do? Try normal for a while?”
My face expressed hostility toward this abhorrent suggestion. “Normal dates don’t usually include going to the Belmont Hotel for drinks and dinner,” I said. “Nor do they involve lunch at the estate, Roman. In the real world, drinks are normally at a dive bar and dinner is at a hole in the wall.”
“Ah, so you’re going to fight me on this.”
“You’re the one who threw down the gauntlet with your stupid no-sex talk.”
His laugh reverberated through the apartment. “My God, do you get touchy at the idea of abstinence.”
Meg was refereeing from the side. “I’m with Isabel here, sorry. Make-up sex is the best. Not that you have a whole lot of time for that right now. Time to shower and get ready, sweet pea. We have twenty minutes till Sergei picks us up.”
A frown chiseled its way between Roman’s brows. “Get ready for what?”
Before I could stop Meg, she lobbied the last thing I ever wanted Roman to know about. “It’s the dance competition tonight. My girl and Sergei will once again be showing those hopeless fools how it”s really done.”
I closed my eyes and sighed. Sergei and Roman crossing paths invited all kinds of unnecessary trouble that I could certainly do without at this point in time. There was a moment when I thought perhaps Roman would just let it go, kiss me and bid me a fabulous night with the promise of a call later on. But no such luck.
His posture changed ever so slightly, and his mouth drew into a stubborn line. “Fantastic,” he said, not fooling me one bit. “Now I can finally watch you dance.”
I shimmied out of my big sweater. “I don’t think so. Maybe some other time. Don’t you have lots of things to do… Like maybe an empire to run?”
He challenged me with a charismatic, no-nonsense smile. “The empire won’t fall apart if I’m not there for a night, my sweet. But I appreciate your concern.”
Meg watched us like a tennis match. “Yeah, why can’t he come watch you dance, Isabel? Isn’t that his privilege as your main squeeze?”
I threw Meg a what-the-fuck look. “You know what, Megan, sometimes, just sometimes it’s okay to butt out. Just sayin’.”
Roman pinned me with a lingering gaze, like a connoisseur studying a 78-year-old Macallan before letting it roll over his tongue. “Cancel your ride with the Russian. I’ll be happy to take you.”
The Russian. If that didn’t cement my concerns right there. Not that Roman’s commanding tone didn’t send a delightful tremor breezing through my limbs. Fighting this was futile now, not that I wasn’t going to try anyway.
“So now you want to play chaperone,” I said.
“I prefer bodyguard to chaperone,” Roman answered, “but whatever term works for you. Besides, I really want to see you dance. It’s one of my fantasies.”
Meg groaned. “Seriously. Could we like not discuss your perverse fantasies right now? Get in the shower Isabel. I’ll make you your energy snack.”
I made one last-ditch effort. “And what happened to your safety concerns outside of Belmont Manor, Roman?”
“Well, I doubt a bunch of dancers pose a huge threat. Besides, that’s Steven’s department. I hope he has his hands full tonight. Serve him right for acting like a dolt.”
My insides twisted into a knot and I lifted my eyes until they met his. “Oh God, please tell me he’s not here.”
Roman wrapped me in his arms again, his lips brushing my temple. His fingers traced my back, shivers ghosting my skin in their wake. “He is, but it’s okay,” he said. “Steven knows he fucked up and won’t do it again. I won’t let him, I promise you. Just the fact that he hasn’t said a word about me staying here tonight should tell you something.”
“You’re staying here tonight?” I asked.
“If I may.”
“So you want to sleep in my bed but not touch me, is that it?”
“I can see how abstinence might not seem realistic at this point,” Roman conceded with a smile that burrowed its way right into my heart. “But nobody can say I didn’t try to do a good thing.”
I hid a smile and gave him a slow heated visual probe. “Well, that’ll teach you. Trying to do a good thing. We’re at our best when doing all the bad things.”
There was a split second where we both considered how to productively utilize the little time we had left. But Meg let out an exaggerated, impatient sigh. “Oh. My. God. Stop it already you two. Time is ticking.”
I coiled out of Roman’s arms. “I’d better go and get ready. Meg please text Sergei and tell him we have a ride. I have no idea where my phone is.”
And then my eyes caught the phone Meg held in her hands.
“Is that my phone?” I asked.
“It is,” she grinned. “I stole it from your bag before you could call the cops on your man here. He probably has the police department in his back pocket anyway, so working it out like the two of you did was a way better idea. You’re welcome.”