Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
KATE DIDN’T REMEMBER THE last time she’d been held overnight. Maybe when she was a little girl? She had a vague memory of someone—her mother?—wrapping her close and singing softly to her.
But that was a long time ago.
And yet, it didn’t feel strange to wake up with Roman’s arm around her. It hadn’t felt strange when she’d shifted at some point in the night and become aware of him, at her back, holding her close. Protecting her, just as he had from the first moment they’d met.
It was his nature; his whole vibe.
She lay with his arm around her for a long time, not wanting to move, in case he shifted and put an end to this. But her breathing must have changed, something to indicate she wasn’t sleeping anymore, because he said, “You had a nightmare. I heard it.”
She rolled over then, grimacing a little as her weight touched her ankle. But she could already tell it was feeling much better today. Soon, she’d be able to walk easily enough. No more reasons for Roman to carry her.
“You can’t let them ruin your life, Kate.”
She was surprised he didn’t move away. Surprised that he kept his body close to hers, his eyes sweeping her face, studying her thoughtfully. She liked being close to him. Seeing the fine lines around his eyes, the flecks of colour near his irises.
“I won’t.”
“I’m sorry they hurt you.” He lifted a hand to her cheek and touched it gently. Her eyes fell to the space between them, a pervasive sense of misplaced shame throbbing inside of her. “I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”
She was tempted not to say anything—after all, wasn’t that their deal? At least, until the contract was signed? Perhaps it was a spirit of defiance that led her to say, “It’s not the first time I’ve been hit, you know.”
She felt his gaze burning into her, his chest shifting with the power of his indrawn breath. He was trying not to react, but she felt it anyway.
“Who else?”
She glanced up at him, a smile tugging at her lips despite the heaviness of their conversation. “Why? Are you going to fly to Australia and get them arrested as well?”
“You think I wouldn’t?”
“No, I think you probably would.” She lifted a finger and traced a line on his cheek—the remains of a long-ago scar. “So the question is, who hurt you?”
He caught her hand, holding it still, his eyes pushing hers. “Don’t ignore me.”
She lifted a single brow. How easy it would be to keep baiting him.
To push him to talk, or at least admit that he wasn’t willing to.
But she’d started this conversation, and deep down, she knew it was because she wanted to tell him.
There was something about him that made her feel safe.
Not just because he had saved her but because it felt like he knew and understood her, and wouldn’t push her to give more than she was willing to.
“One of my foster ‘brothers’,” she used the word with disdain. “And then, a foster mother. Though hers was more a severe form of punishment than straight up abuse.”
“Same thing, I suspect.”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, that’s true.”
“How long were you in the foster system?”
“Most of my life.”
His eyes lingered on her face.
“It wasn’t all bad, except for the moving around. I learned pretty young that nothing was permanent and not to get attached. I kept my bag packed, didn’t bother to learn the names of too many people at school.”
“Why couldn’t they find you a more secure home?”
“Too many kids in the system at the time. I don’t know.
Maybe I was a difficult kid, I can’t remember.
” She said it lightly, but the admission came from a deep space in the centre of her very bruised heart.
She’d carried a sense, for a long time, that she’d been moved around because she’d deserved it.
Because she’d been difficult and unlovable.
“I doubt it.”
“I didn’t let people get close. Mum died suddenly. I was pretty traumatised. I don’t remember a lot from that time, but I remember crying a lot. And the home I’d ended up in, the mum, she seemed so disappointed. I wasn’t what she’d wanted.”
Roman swore under his breath. “What a cruel failure of a woman. To take in a grieving child and not understand what was required of her.”
“Obviously I’m only seeing this through my own memories. My filter.”
“I suspect you have a pretty good handle on it.”
She lifted one shoulder.
“So what happened to them?”
“Who?”
“The people who hurt you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you report them?”
“The foster ‘brother’ was the biological son. I doubt anyone would have believed me.”
Another curse. “Kate, this isn’t right.”
“I know.”
“I hate it.”
“It’s just how it was. It was better than being on the streets. And it taught me to be tough. To look after myself.”
He grunted then. “But you’re here now,” he said, so gently, and so kindly, that her heart stammered and her insides twisted. “And for the next week and a half, I intend to look after you just how you deserve. Deal?”
It sounded perfect, and dangerous, all at once. Because Kate had never let herself be looked after. She’d never let herself admit she even wanted that, because it had felt like the impossible.
“Starting with coffee?”
He grinned. “Let’s do one better.” He reached for his phone and started scrolling through Uber, placing an order for breakfast before settling back and keeping Kate pressed to his chest.
“Do you keep in touch with any of them?”
“Who?”
“The people you live with. The foster families.”
She shook her head. “Once you get moved on, you aren’t really given that choice.”
She was alone. Unwanted. No one had bothered to try to keep her, to fight for her. She forced a smile. “It’s for the best. I don’t miss any of them.”
He made a guttural sound of disapproval.
“As soon as I aged out of the system, I rented a small bedroom in a uni house share. They were all studying, caught up in their own lives. No one really cared what I was doing, or who I was. It wasn’t hard to keep them at arm’s length. And I had a room of my own, with a door that locked.”
“Did you unpack?”
“I filled a drawer,” she said, smiling again. It showed how wary she’d been of commitment, even then. “Though I kept my bag beside it, ready to go at a moment’s notice.”
“Have you unpacked here?”
She pulled a face. “Obviously not.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because I’m hardly going to be here much longer.”
“A week and a half.”
She lifted a hand to his chest, held it there, wishing she didn’t feel so vulnerable, forcing herself to ask, “What if you change your mind?”
He pulled a sceptical expression, waiting for her to continue. “Two weeks is a long time. You might get sick of me.”
“Hard to imagine.”
“Not for me.”
His face became deadly serious. “We have a deal, Kate. You’re here for two weeks. Nothing is going to change that.”
She wished she could believe him. She wished, more than anything, she could somehow trust that promise to be true.
She heard Garrett in the living area, and instinctively held the sheet up higher. “He’s not going to come in here,” Roman assured her.
“Does he just come and go like this?”
“He’ll have the food.”
“Why? Does he wait around for you to need something?”
“He works for me.”
“Bringing you uber?”
“Whatever I need.”
“Where does he live?”
“In an apartment in the building.”
That made sense. It meant he would be on hand all the time, should Roman need him.
“Does he get time off?”
“Yes.”
“Like weekends?”
His smile was amused. “Not necessarily weekends. Sometimes it’s a whole week, if I’m travelling, other times it’s a few days in the middle of the week. At the moment, because I’m here with you, he’s only doing some light admin.”
“Such as organising an immigration lawyer, and a sex contract?”
Roman laughed. “It’s not a sex contract.”
“I’m sorry, a non-disclosure agreement for our ‘commercial arrangement’.”
“The contract is pro-forma.”
She considered that. “Do you do this a lot?”
“If you’re asking if I’ve had commercial arrangements with other women, then yes.”
“Often?”
“No.”
She tugged her lips to the side. “I guess that’s a very relative question. Not a lot to you might mean a new woman every month, whereas to me…”
“Yes, let’s talk about you,” he said swiftly. “You’ve been in relationships?”
She nodded once.
“Why do I find that difficult to imagine?”
She laughed. “Because I’m such a natural at this?”
He caught her hand and lifted to his lips, the tender gesture surprising both of them.
“I’ve…dated. But like you, I prefer to keep it clean and easy.”
“And you were so full of mockery for the idea of my NDA.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“We’ve discussed that.”
“I still haven’t signed the contract.”
“You will.”
Inwardly, she railed against that, but there was no need to have the discussion again now.
“How do you keep things clean?”
She lifted her shoulders. “Usually, one-night stands. No names, no numbers.”
He let out a low whistle.
“You’re surprised?”
“No, actually.” His eyes scanned hers. “It makes sense.”
“I mean, not often. Just when I feel…like I need connection.”
“Do you have friends, Kate?”
“I’ve had jobs. People I work with. I get to know people.”
“So, no.”
“People who would think they were my friends,” she admitted. “People I like and admire. I’m not a psychopath,” she felt pushed to defend. “I’m just careful.”
“Because you like things clean.”
She nodded.
“Risk free?”
“Nothing is entirely risk free.”
“True.”
“Even with an iron-clad NDA.”
“I haven’t had a problem yet.”
“That might be better luck than management…”
“I’m careful who I sleep with.”
“Women like me?”
“And what are you like?”
“Alone. With nothing to lose.”
“Is that how you see yourself?”
“It’s true.”
“That’s a bullshit thing for someone like you to believe.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t pity me.”
“I’m not pitying you. I’m judging the people who made you feel like this. Like you don’t matter. Like you don’t deserve more.”
“I chose not to want more. There’s a difference.” Her tone was pure defiance.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” he said, his jaw tightening as though he were physically holding himself back from saying anything more. “Ready for breakfast?”