Chapter 17 #3
Her eyes widen. "Oh. Can I move in here?
" She laughs, but it fractures mid-sound, collapsing into a sob that wrenches through her entire body.
I pull her against me, and she trembles violently, her tears soaking through my shirt.
"God, I'm sorry," she chokes out, her voice raw.
"It's all crashing down on me at once. My shop—it's gone, isn't it?
The water damage alone..." Her fingers dig into my arms. "Insurance will eventually pay, but the paperwork, the inspections, the waiting—it's like drowning all over again.
What the hell am I supposed to do until then? Where do I even start?"
I reach for my phone. "Let me make some calls.
I know people—the best in the business—who can have your shop looking better than before.
Carpenters, flooring specialists..." I scroll through my contacts.
"Even that Persian rug supplier who did the Crete property.
And the glass guys who installed those twenty-foot windows at this resort.
" I look up from my screen. "They all owe me favors.
We'll stretch your insurance payout further than you'd believe. "
Her lower lip trembles slightly, topaz eyes glistening. "Roman... why would you do all this for me?"
Her eyes widen with confusion, and I realize she truly has no idea how I feel about her.
So I decide to show her. I cradle her face between my palms, my thumbs brushing the soft curve of her cheekbones.
Time slows as I lean in, watching her eyelashes flutter closed, her lips parting slightly in anticipation.
The first touch from my lips to hers is gentle—testing, questioning—but when she sighs against my mouth, I'm lost. Her lips are impossibly soft, tasting of cinnamon and that herbal tea she's always drinking.
I tilt my head to deepen the kiss, feeling her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt as she rises onto her tiptoes.
The world narrows to just this—her warm breath mingling with mine, the silken slide of her hair between my fingers, the perfect pressure as she kisses me back with unexpected hunger.
She's breathing harder and so am I, my lungs burning like I've been underwater too long. My heart slams against my ribs like it's trying to break free and join hers.
This kiss—Christ—it's like being struck by lightning, like drowning and being saved at the same time.
I've spent thirty-three years chasing a ghost, and here she is, flesh and blood, this wild-eyed tarot reader with her sun-kissed skin and untamed spirit.
The parade of Victoria's Secret models, the actresses with their red-carpet smiles, the heiresses who could buy small countries—they've all turned to smoke in my memory. Erased. Meaningless.
Then my phone rings, cutting through the moment. Dammit. I want to keep kissing her, but she pulls back. Her amber eyes look down, lashes shadowing her cheeks as she takes a step away. I can feel her trembling slightly where our bodies still touch.
"You should probably answer that," she says, her breathing heavy, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that makes my heart race. "The storm..." Her voice trails off as thunder cracks outside, punctuating her words with nature's exclamation point.
I stare at my phone. Max. I let it ring twice before answering. "Hey."
"Rome," he says. "Been trying to reach you. You okay? Palos Verdes got hit hard—trees down everywhere. Malibu's fine, but Venice and Santa Monica are a mess. These storm paths are as unpredictable as you are."
I can't help but chuckle. Classic Max—youngest of us all with the biggest heart.
Well, aside from Cameron, of course, the sainted brother.
But Max is the kind of guy who'd give his custom-tailored Armani shirt off his back to a stranger in need.
Something warm unfurls in my chest knowing I'm still on his priority list, especially after all the venomous words I've hurled his way lately.
"Thanks, Max, but I've got this under control," I say, glancing at the rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows. "Need to get back to my storm crew before they think I've abandoned ship. I'll text you if anything changes."
"You do that," Max says, his voice softening. "Don't hesitate. Not even for a second."
I hang up and the realization hits me like a rogue wave—Lilith has completely derailed me.
Outside, the El Nino storm of the century is battering my multi-million dollar resort, and here I am, daydreaming about a woman who reads tarot cards instead of supervising my emergency response team.
Hell, Max seems more concerned about my property than I am. That ends now.
I turn around, scanning the empty living room.
Following a hunch, I check the bedroom and find Lilith asleep on the bed, curled on her side.
Her dark hair spreads across the pillow, and her lips are slightly parted as she snores softly.
She shivers. I grab a throw blanket from the closet and cover her.
Before leaving, I bend down and kiss her forehead, catching the scent of sandalwood in her hair.
"Bye, Lilith," I murmur, my voice barely disturbing the air. "I'll be back to check on you tomorrow."
With one last look at her peaceful face, I stride from the suite, already mentally shifting gears to rejoin my team.