Chapter 6
Chapter Six
LILITH
I crash through the door to find Jack frantically hauling soggy boxes, his guy-liner streaking down his cheeks. I immediately join him.
I’m elbow-deep in salvage when a shadow falls across the doorway. Roman. Towering at the threshold of the shop like some dark harbinger. Of course he'd track me down to gloat over my misfortune.
Jack's eyes widen. “Oh.my.god. Roman Kensington? Here?” He fans himself with shaking hands. His voice runs down to a whisper. “Oh, Lil, those Vanity Fair pictures don’t do him no justice, honey. He’s even more beautiful in person, as if that’s possible.”
I whirl toward Roman, my voice cracking. "Mr. Kensington, if you've come to dance on the grave of my business—"
He says nothing, just rolls up his sleeves to reveal corded forearms. "That oak bookshelf—we need to get it out soon before it warps beyond repair.
Just don't expose it to direct sunlight.
And these Persian rugs need immediate attention.
" His voice is a battlefield command. He stabs at his phone.
"Caspian, flooding emergency at Mystic Tides.
Bring tools." He turns those steel eyes on me.
"That oak display—help me move it before the water reaches the leg joints. "
Just like that, the billionaire has seized control of my catastrophe—and God help me, I'm surrendering completely.
Roman's voice slices through the chaos. "Where is the water shut-off valve?"
Jack and I exchange panicked looks. "Uh…" Jack stammers while I stand paralyzed, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Goddammit," Roman growls, then vanishes out back. When he reappears, water drips from his forearms. "Found it. What do you have to patch a pipe before this place becomes Venice Beach's newest swimming pool?"
My hands shake violently as I fumble through a drawer. "Duct tape?" I hold it out like a pathetic offering to an angry god.
Roman snatches it, his jaw clenched so tight I swear I hear his teeth crack. "Fucking amateurs."
Water surges across my floor—a relentless tide devouring everything in its path. Jack and I frantically throw books into boxes while the pipe screams like a wounded animal, then suddenly falls silent.
Roman storms back in, shirt ripped off and his undershirt clinging to his torso, soaked transparent and molded to every ridge of muscle. My mouth goes desert-dry. Jack actually gasps out loud, his eyes bulging as if he's witnessing the Second Coming.
I force myself to keep moving, hands flying over crystals and pendulums, heart racing with dual panic—over my drowning livelihood and the electricity crackling through the air whenever Roman barks another command, his voice deep and uncompromising as thunder.
Then Caspian bursts through the door—another Greek god in human form.
His dirty blonde hair is windswept, topaz-green eyes blazing with purpose.
My breath catches as Roman gets on one side of the bookshelf, his veins popping along his forearms. Together they hoist the massive oak bookshelf as if it's made of cardboard, muscles straining against expensive fabric.
The raw power radiating between them makes my skin flush despite the emergency.
"Water off?" Caspian asks.
"No, I thought I'd let the whole damn place flood," Roman snarls, eyes flashing.
"I MacGyvered that pipe with whatever garbage she had and tied my shirt around it.
Got the putty?" Caspian nods once, sharply.
"Hand it over. You three—" Roman's gaze locks onto mine, sending electricity down my spine "—keep vacuuming while I save what's left of this place. "
Caspian, Jack and I attack the flood with Caspian-provided Shop Vacs, the machines roaring like beasts as we suck up gallons of water.
I drag the sopping rug in, my muscles screaming, and vacuum it until my knuckles turn white on the handle.
The rug weighs a ton as I heave it back outside, my shirt now plastered to my skin with sweat.
My pulse hammers in my ears—part panic, part physical exertion—as I vacuum the floor again with desperate intensity.
Caspian fires up an industrial blower that howls like a hurricane, blasting the rug with hot air while Roman, his forearms bulging, hauls in the massive oak counter that normally takes two delivery men to move.
The four of us work frantically, racing against time, shelving books and merchandise until my fingers are raw and my back threatens to seize.
When we finally finish, I collapse against the counter, gulping air.
I dispatch Jack for food, and he returns with steaming pizzas, cold beer, and salad, and the four of us collapse on the floor, backs against the wall.
"You guys literally saved my life today," I tell Caspian and Roman, my voice still shaky.
"I would've been completely destroyed without you. "
Roman's smile transforms his face from intimidating to breathtaking.
"We're not done yet," he says, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Those ancient pipes need replacing before they burst again and flood this place to the ceiling.
They're practically fossilized—probably installed when Washington was crossing the Delaware. "
We devour the pizzas like we're starving, and every time I glance up, Roman's eyes are burning into me.
He tilts his head back to drink, throat working as he swallows, and I can't tear my gaze from the way his fingers grip the bottle.
His A-shirt clings to his torso, damp with sweat, revealing not just muscles but the sharp definition between them, the dark ink of a tattoo disappearing beneath the fabric.
When his eyes lock onto mine—those lashes casting shadows on his cheeks—heat floods my core. Jack clears his throat.
Jack flutters his fingers in Caspian's direction. "Yoo-hoo, Mr. Muscles," he stage-whispers, voice rising into a theatrical lilt. "I'm absolutely parched for fresh air. Let's go outside and count stars or commune with night squirrels or whatever you straight boys do in the darkness."
Caspian's eyes dart between Roman and me. "God, yes," he mutters. "It's like a furnace in here."
The door barely clicks shut before Roman's phone hits the floor. He takes another pull from his Heineken, never breaking eye contact. “Diego’s coming in in the next several days,” he says, voice rougher than before.
"He'll tear out those old pipes, put in the good stuff.
Type K copper." His tongue touches his upper lip. "Thickest. Heaviest. Most durable."
I nod. "So, Mr. Kensington…"
He rolls his eyes, the movement sharp as a blade. "You've seen my tattoo. You can call me Roman. Or Rome."
I nod, heat flooding my cheeks. "Roman," I manage, my voice barely audible. "What brought you here tonight?"
He shrugs, muscles rippling beneath his shirt.
"I acted like an asshole like usual. And you looked panicked when you left the resort, so I had to come out here and see what was up.
Good thing I came, too, because, I'm sorry, I don't think I've seen two people less competent in a crisis than you and Jack. "
His laugh hits me like thunder, and something electric shoots down my spine.
First that devastating smile earlier, now this laugh that makes my knees weak.
For a fleeting second, he seems almost human—but there's nothing mortal about the raw power radiating from him.
He's Ares incarnate, the god of war himself, with that tattoo mapping violent constellations across his skin.
Even when he's being kind, danger pulses from him like a heartbeat.
I swallow hard. "I'll pay you back. Every cent."
Roman's laugh cuts through the air. "Don't insult me. Not after tonight."
“Diego, then. I need to—"
“Diego works for me," Roman snaps, leaning forward. "End of discussion."
"But dragging him out here, an hour’s drive away—”
"Nobody loves driving in LA traffic for a job, but that's why I pay him triple what anyone else would." He tears off a chunk of pizza with his teeth, washing it down with a long pull of beer, throat working as he swallows. "Look, I was an absolute bastard earlier. Threatening your job like that."
"You literally saved everything I've built," I say, my voice cracking. "We're more than even."
His eyes lock onto mine. "Insurance. Tell me you have it."
My chest tightens. "Only for acts of God. If those ocean swells hit ten feet and breach the sea wall? Covered. But this?" I gesture at the devastation around us. "I'm completely exposed."
Roman slams his beer down. "Unacceptable. My insurance guy will call you tomorrow."
I feel the blood drain from my face. "I can't afford—"
"I've got it," he cuts in, voice like steel. "You think I want you at my resort giving readings while you're terrified of losing everything? This isn't charity—it's business. And to me?" He snaps his fingers inches from my face. "Pocket. Change."
I sigh. Pocket change to him is everything to me. “Well, thank you,” I say.
He shrugs, checking the Patek Philippe on his wrist. "Time to hit the road.
" His gaze lifts to catch Caspian strolling through the entrance, mid-chuckle at something Jack said.
Jack's eyes are practically heart-shaped cartoon cutouts as he drinks in every inch of Caspian's frame.
Meanwhile, Caspian remains blissfully oblivious to the effect he's having.
"Gotta bounce,” Caspian says.
"Right behind you," Roman says, then turns to me.
“Diego will be coming in the next few days with those copper pipes—guaranteed leak-proof.
And expect a call from Brett about the insurance.
" His eyes linger on mine a beat longer than necessary.
"Take care, Lilith." He tilts his beer bottle toward Jack.
"You too, though between the two of you, I'm not sure who needs more supervision. Talk about blind leading the blind.” A smile plays at the corner of his mouth as he shakes his head, then follows Caspian out the door.
He leaves and Jack flutters his hand in front of his face. "Oh. My. God. Two Greek gods just blessed our humble establishment with their divine presence. Shame they're both straight." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "But one of them clearly has the hots for you."
"Roman? Please," I roll my eyes. "He drove all this way to make amends for being an ass.
He tried to fire me earlier, you know. I just pulled your famous 'selective hearing' technique.
" I smile, remembering our tiny UCLA-adjacent apartment where Jack would recount his work stories over cheap wine.
His manager had fired him during the dinner rush, but Jack simply continued taking orders like nothing happened.
The poor guy was so bewildered he never mentioned it again, and Jack ended up serving martinis there until graduation - three years after the “firing.”
Jack rolls his eyes dramatically. "Honey, please.
Mr. Luxury Resort CEO drove an entire hour through LA traffic—an hour!
—just to say sorry? When he could've fired off a text?
" He leans in, voice dropping conspiratorially.
"That man didn't come all that way for an apology.
He came for you." He fans himself with one hand.
"And did you see those muscles in that tank top?
I swear, those abs were so defined I could've used them as a cheese grater.
And believe me," he adds with a wink, "I would've volunteered for kitchen duty. "
Heat scorches my cheeks. "Well," I manage to say, my voice catching. Roman Kensington noticing me? I might as well be a dust mote trying to catch a supernova. The man is carved from marble and midnight, for god's sake. "He saved my ass tonight. I'll give him that."
Jack fans himself dramatically. "Sweet mother of mercy, Lilith.
Did you see him take charge like that? I'm still recovering.
" He clutches his chest. "The moment that pipe burst and he just—" Jack mimes ripping fabric, eyes rolling back.
"And then watching him and Caspian muscle that bookcase through the doorway?
Pure. Physical. Perfection." He clutches his chest. "It's like Apollo himself stepped out of my mythology books just to make you his mortal conquest." That’s Jack, always believing that gods walk among us.
Thinking about Roman's shoulders, I'm starting to believe it.
I grab Jack's arm. "Let's go. I need sleep or I'll collapse right here."
"Okay, little Lilith," he says, eyes glinting. "Just keep pretending there's not a wildfire between you and Roman god.” Then he laughs. “Roman god. Good lord. It was right there the whole time.”
I force a laugh but my heart hammers against my ribs as we walk the block home.
The night air does nothing to cool the heat crawling up my neck.
In bed, I press my thighs together, desperate to extinguish thoughts of those dark eyes, that jaw, those hands that could crush or caress.
My skin burns everywhere he looked at me today.
God, I'm drowning. Wanting the boss like this? I'm playing with dynamite.