Roman
Roman hated fucking bad feelings. He sensed Valentina was a little too enthusiastic about seeing Ryan, and Pop had just ruined his breakfast with the one person in the world he wanted to spend time with, Madison. This wasn’t the dark ages and if Pop thought he would succumb to his arrangement of marriage to Layla Rinaldi, he was mistaken. Roman had come far in his twenty-eight years, and wouldn’t be told who to marry.
Roman glanced at Madison, who’d poured her third cup of coffee from the thermos and currently had both her hands wrapped around the warm mug. He couldn’t help but be elated that she was here. It was bullshit what happened to her place, but it made for a fortuitous situation for him. Selfishly, this was his chance to win her over and keep her within arm’s reach.
Rising from the kitchen counter, Roman retrieved a laptop with one hand that had been lying on a side table.
“Here.” He placed it in front of her. “You need to replace the gowns that were damaged. That event is going to be here soon. You need to be ready for it.”
Madison stared down at the search engine in awe.
Roman placed an American Express card in front of her. “Order whatever you want. I’ve got it. The shop is being worked on as we speak. You should be up and running in a week.” That should give me plenty of time, he thought to himself.
“I can’t take your money. It’ll cost a ton to replace those dresses and accessories.”
Roman shrugged. “It’s not a concern. Spend what you need to.”
Gauging the look on Madison’s face, he wasn’t sure if she was horrified, stunned, or grateful. Damn, he didn’t understand women sometimes. Then an amazing thing happened. Her face softened and she seemed appreciative.
“I’ll pay you back as soon as we collect the insurance money. The shop needs to get back on its feet. But…I will pay you back.” Her voice was soft and hinted of defeat. Roman didn’t like it. His spit-fire Madison wasn’t shooting daggers at him or refusing to comply. But this softer side had its appeal too. He couldn’t help himself. She was too tempting. Madison began typing away to her suppliers and Roman risked it. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulled her in slightly, and kissed the top of her head.
“Anything for you,” he whispered before he snatched his cell phone off the counter and went to his office to work on other problems.
Madison
Madison held the credit card in her hand and spun it around as she sat at the counter. Royal Distributor’s website lit up on the laptop screen that Roman loaned her. The company was her largest supplier of gowns, so hopefully they could replenish her stock quickly. She wrestled with the situation. He’d given her his credit card to restock her shop. He was right. If she didn’t order what she needed now, it would never be delivered in time for the bridal show. Time was not in her favor. Madison remembered every gown she had ever sold or bought. The image of the destroyed dresses, veils, and jewelry snapped across her mind including the man’s face who’d violated her place of business and hurt her friend. A tickle of fear crept up her back. Nothing made sense.
She hadn’t done anything to anyone to spark such a horrific retaliation. Her competition was practically non-existent in Genoa. There had to be something going on that would reach the surface of explanation at some point.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Madison looked around the kitchen at the empty plates, the refrigerator, and her face twisted in confusion. She rose from her stool and walked around the counter. The sound was coming from the big bowl of rice.
My phone.
It worked. Madison dug her fingers into the tiny white oblong bits and rescued the cell. The screen lit up with voicemails, texts, and missed calls. Four of them had been from her mother. Ignoring those, she scrolled directly to Stephanie’s texts.
Where are you?
Call me.
What is happening?
Madison texted immediately, seeing that those texts were hours old.
At Roman’s. I’m fine. Working on getting the shop back to normal. How are you feeling?
Stephanie: YOU ARE AT ROMAN’S?
All caps, not a good sign.
Before she could text back, her phone rang. Stephanie.
“Hello,” Madison said into the receiver.
“Why are you at Roman’s?”
“It’s a long story. How are you feeling after yesterday? Are you okay?”
“I feel much better. Now tell me why you’re at Roman’s.”
“Well…” Madison recalled being forced to come, but didn’t want Stephanie to worry. “Roman felt it is safer for me here after what happened.”
“I went to the shop when I didn’t hear from you. I got worried,” Stephanie admitted. “It’s practically all fixed.”
“Fixed? I haven’t even called the insurance company. That was next on my list of things to do.”
“There were workers there. Putting stuff back together, throwing trash into a dumpster outside, vacuuming up the glass. I even saw new display racks still wrapped in plastic. I couldn’t find you, so I left. I thought you knew.”
“Stephanie, I have to call you back.”
Madison pressed the end button and dropped her phone back in the rice with a splat. A few nuggets of rice spilled over the side. Her stocking feet took her on a trek through the Caponelli mansion. A door halfway down the hallway was ajar. The deep tone of Roman’s voice carried into the hall as she approached. The urge to eavesdrop was strong.
“The sales have to be related to what happened at Madison’s. I want a meeting.” Menace coated his words. “Tomorrow.” He stopped talking, so she assumed he ended the call without a goodbye.
Madison planted her palm against the paneled door and pushed slightly. The movement of the door revealed a very distinguished Roman seated behind an opulent desk scattered with stacks of papers and a mug filled with hot coffee. His chin leaned on his hand, but Madison’s intrusion yanked him from his thoughts.
She was confused, and hit a crossroad. Madison never wanted to be beholden to any man, but she hated to admit that she needed Roman. That she enjoyed needing him. He took her independence away, he took her from her home, but the considerate and thoughtful things melted her. She stood in the doorway and their eyes met. The words she wanted to speak were suddenly missing. His eyes said more than any of her words ever could. She could see deep within them. His advances, gifts, and his help weren’t because he needed another conquest. He did them because he actually cared.
“Boss,” Arlo called from the other side of the house. “Boss.”
Roman rose, never removing his gaze from Madison. She stepped aside to let him by, but he stopped for a moment and kissed her forehead similarly to the way he’d done an hour ago. No strings, no seduction, just an unsaid promise.
“Roman. We have company.”