Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“WHAT GIVES, HAYES? YOU’VE dropped completely off the face of the earth.”
Usually, the sight of Tia Stallone striding into his penthouse with a bottle of wine and their favourite take-out in hand would have been not only expected but also welcome.
Tia, Grace’s best friend. Tia, who knew the real him, the man he’d been before all this.
Tia who understood him better than anyone.
Tia, who besides Garrett was the only person in his life to have a key fob granting entry to his life, because she’d always be welcome.
But with a freshly-showered Kate curled up on the sofa, sipping a cup of tea, he felt a thousand emotions—embarrassment, self-consciousness, and as though a bubble he had wanted to keep just a while longer was about to be burst.
“I texted you,” she prompted. “Let’s celebrate.” She lifted the bottle of Pol Roger in the air.
“What are we celebrating?”
“I sold it.”
It took Roman a minute to catch up and then, he let out a low whistle. Tia, Roman and Grace had made a pact a long time ago. They weren’t just going to get out of the hellhole that was their childhood—a variety of trailer parks and poverty—but to make it. To really make it.
Roman had.
And Tia had. Stallone Realty was the premier residential real estate company on the Eastern seaboard.
She sold blue-chip homes, penthouses, anything with more than six zeroes, essentially, and today, she’d apparently sealed the deal on the most expensive residential apartment in Manhattan—apart from Roman’s.
As always, though, their success contrasted with Grace’s death left a lump in his chest he struggled to ignore. But he was used to pretending, to faking that he was fine.
But with Kate there with him, everything felt strange. Different. As though the very air around them had a different quality to usual.
“Oh.” Tia’s attention had strayed in Kate’s direction. “You have company.”
It was right that Tia should look confused. While Roman was hardly a priest, he didn’t tend to have women back to his place. This was his space. His sanctuary. Privacy was important to him.
So why had he brought Kate here and all but refused to let her go?
Why hadn’t he set her up in a hotel suite with paid staff? He could have achieved the same outcome, but Roman hadn’t wanted to leave anything to chance. He’d learned that lesson once, and he was never likely to forget it.
He moved closer to Kate, somehow instinctively knowing she needed reassurance.
In his experience, women usually did around Tia.
Not only was she successful and beautiful, she had a presence that screamed wealth and refinement.
While Roman understood why—growing up in abject poverty had led them both to be fastidious about all things—he also knew it was intimidating to a lot of people.
“Kate, this is one of my oldest friends, Tia Stallone. Tia,” he hesitated, not quite sure how to describe Kate.
“One of his newest friends,” Kate supplied, earning a wry smile from Roman before he transferred his attention back to Tia. She was unfurling the top of the bottle of the Pol Roger, a practiced look of non-concern on her face. A professional expression of polite curiosity, nothing more.
“Pleased to meet you, Kate.”
He watched as Kate shifted a little, sitting up straighter.
He wanted to tell her not to move. Wearing a pair of loose jeans and a sweater, with her hair loose around her face, she was perfect.
Almost perfect. The slight bruising remained along her temple and cheekbone, bringing a fresh wave of anger to him when he thought of how she’d been handled.
“You’re celebrating?”
“I sold a place,” Tia waved a hand in the air, as though it were no big deal, then placed the takeout bag down on the counter.
“Tia runs a huge realty company,” Roman supplied.
“Congratulations.” Kate’s own expression was not so easy to manipulate as she might have wished. Roman saw a host of emotions play across her features and for the first time in his adult life, he wished Tia wasn’t there.
Tia, who had grown up like a sister to him, and been through the worst of times at his side.
“Drinks?” Tia moved into the kitchen and pulled out three champagne flutes. It was on the tip of his tongue to say Kate wouldn’t have any, but she spoke first.
“Just a half glass.”
He shot her a warning look, concern throbbing through him. He wasn’t a huge fan of alcohol at the best of times, but coming hot on the heels of a head injury? Then again, she was fine now. No concussion, no signs of anything more severe. He tried to relax.
“Sure.” Tia’s smile was locked in place. “I got Chinese. You hungry?”
Kate bit down on her lower lip. “You guys go ahead without me. I have some things I can catch up on in my room.”
Even Tia wasn’t quick enough to hide her instant reaction to that. A brow quirked upwards, her eyes widening, before she contained her surprise. “That’s not necessary, Kate. There’s plenty of food.”
“But you two must want to catch up.”
Tia popped the bottle loudly, letting out a little squeal as champagne spurted from the top and she tilted it over the glasses. “Not at all. We’re celebrating. As far as I’m concerned, the more the merrier.”
Despite Tia’s protestations, Kate was adamant. She sipped her half glass of champagne and made polite conversation with Tia—who was an expert at keeping things moving—and then asked Roman for her crutches.
“This is easier,” he said, lifting her without looking in Tia’s direction, carrying her through the apartment to the guest room.
“She’s lovely,” Kate said, her voice quiet, as he placed her on the bed.
“She’s an old friend.”
Kate’s lips tugged to the side and he had a feeling she was putting up a wall, with him on the other side of it. He had a feeling he was being pushed out.
“Join us for dinner, Kate.”
She shook her head. “I’m really tired, honestly.”
“I’ll bring you something to eat in here.”
“I’m fine,” she said, smiling brightly. “Go, have fun.” She pulled her phone off the bedside table and began to flick through it, so he had no choice but to step out of her room and pull the door closed softly in his wake.
“Okay, spill.” Tia had topped up their glasses and dished out two bowls of Chinese. This was a well-established ritual for them; they each knew the other’s order and portion size. Naturally, she’d given him exactly what he would have chosen for himself.
“Spill what?” he asked with a smirk, her question completely understandable.
“You’ve moved some young Australian girl into your guest room because why?”
“She’s not that young,” he said, as he realised for the first time that there was, in fact, an age gap between them.
Yet, it never felt like it. Kate seemed older, and wiser, than her years.
Protective and wary in ways that developed in someone who’d seen a lot.
Roman knew, because he, Tia and Grace had been the same.
“And she’s not living with me. I didn’t move her in. ” Didn’t you?
“What happened to her leg?”
“Ankle,” he amended. “She sprained it. Badly.” He knew he sounded defensive. It was very un-Roman. He took in a breath. “She was being attacked. I came across them and stopped it, brought her here. She has nowhere else to go.”
Tia’s gaze stayed locked to his face, scepticism in her features. “I didn’t know damsel-in-distress was your kink.”
“It’s not like that,” he said, swiftly, reaching for his bowl and a fork. “I’m helping her. She has no one else.”
“Like Grace,” Tia prompted, gently now.
“Grace had us.” A familiar surge of anger fired in his belly. Hadn’t Grace understood what she meant to him? He would have moved heaven and earth for her, he would have done whatever it took to save her.
“And now Kate has you.”
He didn’t want to dig deeper into what Tia was saying, but he didn’t have to. A moment later, she queried him gently, “And this has nothing to do with the fact the anniversary of Grace’s death is in a few days?”
His body tightened with a familiar throb of grief. “It won’t bring her back you know. You can save as many vulnerable women as you want, Grace still won’t be here.”
He closed his eyes on the reality of that. “I know.”
“Kate’s not Grace.”
His eyes burst open, latching to hers. “I know that, too, believe me.” There was nothing remotely fraternal about how Kate made him feel. Not only did she look nothing like his sister, she didn’t act like her either. “Grace was her own person, and so is Kate.”
“But you’re doing all this for Kate because of what happened for Grace. Because you weren’t there for her.”
“No one was there for her.”
Tia’s expression was pinched. “I was in Japan, you know that—”
He swore. “I wasn’t meaning you. I just mean…” he dragged a hand through his hair. “She was alone. I wish—”
“I wish, too.” She reached out and put her hand on his. “But it’s not going to change the past.” Tia’s eyes were filmed with moisture. “God, I miss her.”
He nodded once, his own emotions so completely controlled that despite the guilt and grief that were strangling his insides, he didn’t visibly react.
Tia sighed, sipped her champagne, eyes roaming his face thoughtfully. “Just be careful, Roh. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
His smile was dismissive of the very idea. Kate, hurt him? He couldn’t imagine her hurting so much as a fly, let alone someone who’d lived the life Roman had. This was no big deal; everything was going to be fine.
Kate was watching a holiday movie on Netflix when a knock sounded on her bedroom door a little over an hour later. Roman was there, glass of wine in one hand and bowl of food in the other. “Hungry?”
She wasn’t. Or she thought she wasn’t, but the smell was intoxicatingly good. “If there’s left over, sure.”
She clearly saw the disapproval on his features, the way he reacted to her implying she wasn’t worth anything other than leftovers, and felt that pang of being wanted and valued, a pang she’d always felt for its absence, rather than presence.
“Is Tia still here?”
“She just left. Said to say ‘goodbye’.”