47. Roman
Itexted Steven, explaining my plans for the evening. I expected him to balk at my venturing onto everyday terrain and going to a dance competition of all things, but he didn’t.
The security detail was going to get an earful from him on protocol and safety measures, which meant that wherever this competition was, it would be one of the safest places in Newport tonight.
It was a challenge ignoring the closed bathroom door between Isabel and me, with my imagination fueled to new heights by every trickle of water raining down on the naked nymph. The effort I put into maintaining my restraint was met with a smirk from Meg. “After the competition I’m meeting up with Beefcake, so you and Isabel will have the place all to yourself.”
“Beefcake?”
“Yeah, my fuckbuddy. He’s dumb as a stump but my God he’s hotter than Satan’s toenails.”
“How romantic,” I said, amused to no end. “I take it this is not the one.”
“Not everyone is lucky enough to stumble into a bookshop and boom, there’s your other half. Most of us are just happy if our Tinder date doesn’t turn out to be a serial killer or an asshole, or both.”
“Then I count myself lucky. I wish I’d realized that sooner.”
Meg looked at me. And it wasn’t an easy look to decipher, but one thing was clear. I wasn’t going to escape her scrutiny. “So tell me, Roman. This complication Isabel keeps mentioning, what’s that all about?”
My heart stopped. This was the last question I expected, even if it was the one subject I never stopped thinking about. I put on my boardroom mask. The trustworthy one that said I was in charge and knew what I was doing. “It’s something I’m working on and it’s getting resolved.”
She tilted her head, fingers tapping her empty mug as she inspected me. “You should know if you break her heart, or spirit, or any part of her, in any way shape or form, I will drag you onto the train tracks and tie you down. And I’ll pick a place where the train only comes once every few hours so you can agonize for a while over what you’ve done before the train comes along and spits out bits of you all over the tracks.”
I gave something of a chuckle, cleared my throat and nodded. No other response would suffice. Meg made her way to the small kitchen. “Come, we have to make princess her energy snack. You cut the banana and I’ll crumble the granola in her yogurt cup.”
As we were making Isabel her snack, I marveled at how at ease I was, familiar even though I’d never done this before. It all felt the way I thought normal was supposed to feel. Not at all like there was a security detail bustling around outside, paranoid about keeping The Heir safe from harm.
I took the time to grill Meg on contract law, and she didn’t disappoint. While she packed Isabel’s snack in a small lunchbox, she fired off the seven essential elements an agreement must have to be considered a valid contract. Then she gave me a crooked smile. “I take it we’re still on with the dessert menu contract.”
“We are,” I said. “And I take it you might be representing Isabel on all matters going forward.”
“All matters? You mean there’s more?”
“There will be.”
“Just so you know, I won’t be going soft on the prenup.”
“I’d be disappointed if you went soft on any negotiation concerning Isabel.”
Meg slid her perceptive gaze to me, a warning lingering in her eyes, and I realized her threats weren’t to be taken lightly. For all her strength and pluck, Isabel’s only vulnerability started and ended in her relationship with me, and no one was more aware of that than Meg.
When Isabel emerged from her bedroom ten minutes later, ready to leave, my jaw hit the ground. I was not prepared for the nymph to bare so much skin in a very revealing black dress. The fact that she looked absolutely ravishing was neither here nor there.
I greedily lapped up this vision with equal measures of desire and disapproval, not wanting to be the asshole boyfriend but nevertheless succumbing to the possessive streak raiding my insides. “That’s a very revealing dress, my sweet.”
She smiled happily. “It is, isn’t it? That’s ballroom dancing for you. And tonight you’re going to see even more revealing dresses, so be prepared.”
I pulled her close, nibbled the edge of her ear until she coiled against me like a ravenous kitten. “Well, you look gorgeous,” I murmured as she purred.
So much for the no-sex concept. For a while there it seemed like a noble idea, giving us a chance to recalibrate and basically start anew, like a normal couple would. But I was not prepared for this goddess to unashamedly shove her loveliness in my face, making me so hard I couldn’t think straight.
Meg pressed the lunchbox into Isabel’s hand. “Eat in the car. We have to go. Sergei’s gonna be pissed if you don’t have enough time to warm up.”
The Russian, of course. The ever-present shadow in our lives. I figured it was time for me to meet the man who was fueling my biggest fear. But it was one thing allowing him to fuel my fear, and another thing to simply meet him in person and put that fear to bed. After all, I was the one Isabel chose to be with, and maybe I was making more of him than I should.