Chapter 18 #2
Coffee had been as agonising as it had been perfect. They’d sat opposite each other and talked for hours, but he’d been so careful not to touch her, not to push her.
Only as they were leaving did he suggest they have coffee in a few days’ time.
Coffee, again?
It went on that way for three weeks. Every few days, they’d see each other in the daytime, and just…
talk. Next, they progressed to talking on the phone in between times.
She’d call him whenever something occurred to her, something she wanted to tell him.
And he started to text her at night, just a simple message to say goodnight.
To show that he was thinking of her. She began to ache for him, more than she’d ever ached for anyone or anything.
At their first dinner date—three weeks after she’d gone to his hotel—he arrived with a wad of papers she recognised immediately. And proceeded to tear it up in front of her. No more NDA. He was showing that he trusted her with everything he’d told her.
That night, after he’d walked her back to her place, she kissed him on the cheek and felt his whole body react.
But he hadn’t acted on that. Whatever he might have wanted, he took a step backwards, smiled tightly, and said goodnight.
But he didn’t leave. Not right away. Instead, he watched until she was safely inside her townhouse, and then made his way to his car. Her heart was exploding.
She quit her job the next day. It had never been more than a job to Kate.
She’d been professional and maintained strict boundaries with all her clients.
At the same time, going out with random men, even for work, was anathema to her now.
She didn’t want to spend time with anyone but Roman and she had more than enough savings to tide her over until she found something else.
She told him the next evening, when they again shared dinner.
He closed his eyes on a wave of relief and she knew then how much it had been torturing him, to know she was dating other men—even just for work. And yet he hadn’t said anything. He’d let her do what she needed to. He’d respected her choices.
That night, she suggested they go back to hotel for coffee, and it was definitely not coffee that she wanted.
But to her surprise, after a toe-curlingly passionate kiss, Roman told her nothing was going to happen between them that night.
He didn’t want to sleep with her until they both agreed they were in love.
He never wanted them to hold the line between sex and emotion again—with them, it was making love, just like she’d said.
The next time I take you, and you scream my name, I want to hold you in my arms afterwards and tell you what’s in my heart.
And I want you to say it back to me, and mean it.
She knew she already did feel it though, and mean it. Roman had done what no one else had ever been capable of: he’d shown Kate what she meant to him, and that he was willing to fight for her. He’d made her feel safe.
And she loved him, so much, for that, and a million other things.
Six weeks after she’d been to his hotel room, on Christmas morning, he drove her to a harbourside suburb, to show her a spacious apartment with glorious views.
Kate had long-ago abandoned the idea of being alone on Christmas day.
She hadn’t consciously planned to spend it with Roman and yet, somehow, she’d just known they would.
Tia was flying in that evening, so they could spend some of the holiday together.
“It’s lovely,” she said, when he asked her what she thought of the apartment. Because obviously it was. In some ways, it reminded her of his place in New York. Big, palatial, luxurious.
“I’m glad you like it. I bought it earlier this week.”
She jerked her gaze to his, shock emanating through her in waves. “What? Why?”
“I want somewhere more permanent.” He hesitated, then spoke as though forcing the words out. “I want us to have somewhere more permanent. When—and if—you’re ready.”
Kate shook her head.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to rush you. I shouldn’t have said that.”
His characteristic uncertainty was her undoing. She’d tortured him—and herself—enough. “Roman, stop, I love it. It’s just…”
“You’re not ready. Forget it. It was a stupid idea.”
“Let me finish,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist in a gesture he clearly wasn’t expecting. He stood still, tense, like he didn’t dare relax into this. He nodded once, a clipped gesture.
“I love it,” she said, thickly. “But I came to Sydney because I was running away. There’s only one place I think of as home, only one place on earth where I truly found myself—and want to live.”
A muscle jerked in his jaw. He waited, not daring to speak.
“There’s only one place I see us living,” she said, after a torturously long beat.
“Us,” he groaned, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead to press against hers. “God, I like the sound of that.”
She smiled softly, lifted a hand to cup his cheek. “I do, too.” She stroked his cheek gently. “Will you take me home, Roman?”
“In a heartbeat.”
She smiled slowly, then looked around the living room.
“But before that? Take me to bed.”
He groaned, and kissed her now without restraint, without pause.
He kissed her with every spark of love and hope and need and pride he possessed; he kissed her and she kissed him back, and when they made love, it was exactly that, just like they’d promised.
It was meaningful, it was special, it was safe, and it was forever.
THE END
Guess whose story is coming next…that would be Tia Stallone! Get ready to watch this untouchable queen meet her match and fall apart at the seams. A BABY FOR THE BILLIONAIRE is coming soon. READ ON FOR A SNEAK PEEK BELOW…
PROLOGUE
SHE’D ALWAYS KNOWN BABIES were tiny little creatures, of course.
But it wasn’t until Tia Stallone held Kate and Roman’s newborn, swaddled up in the pink and yellow hospital blanket, that she really understood what tiny meant.
Their daughter was perfect. A sweet little softly breathing, downy-skinned person, eyelashes kissing her cheeks as though trying to blot out the lights of the hospital room.
“She’s perfect,” Tia said, surprised to hear a wobble in her voice.
“We think so,” Roman agreed, coming to stand beside her, using one finger to lower the blanket a little, to reveal more of her round face.
When Tia tore her eyes away from the baby and glanced up, it was to see a look of wonderment on Roman’s face that she’d started getting used to.
Ever since he’d met Kate and had his world turned on its head by the unlikely reality of having discovered, quite by chance, his perfect other half.
And now they’d split their halves and hearts and made a divine little creature.
“What’s her name?” Tia asked softly, voice wobbling once more.
Roman cleared his throat and when Tia chanced a look at his face again, his eyes were suspiciously moist.
“Grace,” Kate said, gently, almost as though asking for permission.
Tia’s gaze flew to Roman’s wife—a woman Tia had come to think of as a trusted friend over the past two years.
A woman who understood that losing Grace—Roman’s sister, and Tia’s best friend—had shaped them both in permanent, forever kinds of ways, and was gentle enough to let them walk alongside that grief.
Even as Roman had finally let himself be happy, too. Happy in a way Tia knew wasn’t for her.
Not just because of losing Grace, but because of the way she’d been brought up, the things she’d put up with, the desperation of it all.
“Is that okay?” Kate asked, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.
Tia looked down at the baby, a tear sliding down her cheek as she nodded quickly.
“It’s perfect. Grace would be so happy.” She lifted the baby to hold her closer, and breathed in the sweet scent, and kissed the little forehead, her heart clutching for a moment.
Clutching not just with love, but also with longing.
The most intense, fierce burst of it she’d ever known.
So intense she sucked in a breath, her brain spinning to make sense of it.
“I’ll get out of your hair,” she said, relinquishing her grip on baby Grace to hand her to Roman.
“You don’t have to go,” Kate murmured.
“You must be exhausted,” Tia brushed aside her demurral. “I’ll come back tomorrow. Text me what you want from Angelo’s,” she added, invoking their absolute favourite patisserie with a wink.
“Deal.” She kissed Kate’s cheek, then Roman’s, and risked one last kiss of Grace’s forehead, and felt it again.
Longing. Need. A fierce, undeniable urge to grab their baby and run. She never would, of course—it wasn’t about kidnapping. It was about a biological need she hadn’t known she possessed to hold a little human and know she didn’t have to hand them back.
For the first time in her life, Tia realised she’d been ignoring a part of herself that would no longer be denied. She didn’t want a relationship. She didn’t want mess, hurt, heartbreak. But she did want a baby, all her own, a family—just the two of them, against the world.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, as she left the hospital room.
But she was already pulling her phone from her bag and googling information on IVF.
Because Tia Stallone had dragged herself out of abject poverty, had gone from trailer park to trailer park to running one of the world’s most exclusive real estate agencies, and that was a reflection of her biggest personality trait: when she wanted something, she went after it with both hands.
And now, she’d decided, she wanted a baby.