Chapter Fifteen

Tessa

The next few days we spend more time in bed than out of bed. It’s as though a dam has burst, and the torrent of need overwhelms both of us. I’m unmoored, swept away, and there’s nothing I can to do save myself. I tell myself I don’t need to, that I can let go, and yet part of me can’t get used to letting a man care for me in every way.

We lie in bed, make love, sleep. Every so often we venture into the kitchen to find something to eat. Or we send out for food. There’s no talk of me cooking. Or the broken vase. We laugh over silly things. Even our silly laughter ends up with us kissing like we can’t get enough. One night, our dinner is simply a bowl of popcorn that we popped in the fireplace of all things.

Both of us ignore our phones. Instead we indulge in bubble baths and Netflix, mid-day lovemaking and long afternoon naps. I want to build a wall around us. I want to build it high and keep the one person who has loved me like I’ve never been loved. I want to shut out the world and make believe, but of course that’s not possible. Not now. Not ever.

I know that. I just forget every so often.

A few days after we first make love, Roman and I wake, entwined in each other’s arms. But instead of an early morning round of sexy games, followed by a long, hot shower together, he gets up from bed. His expression is grim, business-like.

“I got a text in the night. I have work out of town for a few days. I have a surveillance job.”

I nod, like that’s nothing. He’s leaving. It’s fine. “Okay.”

He grimaces. “I don’t like it, but it’s an important client. Damon’s taking care of another client’s niece, and that just leaves me.”

He throws a bag on the foot of the bed and starts packing. Everything he puts in the bag is black. For a brief instant, I imagine him rappelling down the side of a foreign embassy. Any other time I’d grin at the idea. I know he runs dangerous, covert-type of jobs, but mostly he oversees them. He’s not usually the person who is out there, boots on the ground, sort of thing.

“Where are you going?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Colombia.”

My heart lurches in my chest. “South America? For how long?”

“A few days.”

Turning away, he heads into the bathroom, and a moment later, I hear the shower start. I stare at the bag, an odd sensation twisting inside me. He’s leaving. I want to rip everything out of the bag. Beg him to stay. Anything to keep him from walking out the door. It’s ridiculous, I tell myself. I can’t lay claim to him. He’s not mine, or at least not yet.

The ring he gave me glitters in the early morning rays of sunshine. He’ll be back, I tell myself. This is real. It is.

I shower in the guest bathroom and dress hurriedly. He’s in the kitchen, drinking a coffee and talking on the phone to Claire about Damon. They discuss the details about his work with a girl called Sofia D’Angelo.

“I had no idea she doesn’t speak English. I guess Damon’s going to have to figure out a few Italian phrases… yeah, I’ll bet he’s pissed… nothing I can do about it now. It’s just three days. He’ll need to make it work…”

He stands in front of the window and I take the opportunity to admire him. He’s wearing jeans. I’ve never seen him in anything other than dress pants, and while I’ve seen him naked plenty of times over the past few days, I find I want to let my gaze linger. He’s got a powerful stance, feet planted a step apart. His broad shoulders taper to a narrow waist. His legs are powerful and the hands that held my wrists last night look like they were hewn from stone.

I miss him, and he’s not even gone. The idea of him leaving makes my eyes sting. My stomach flips. Don’t go, I want to tell him. Don’t go…

“Tell him,” Roman’s voice roughens to a masculine growl, “that this is payback for what he did to the Lear. Savage Security damn near got fined by the FAA. That should stop his griping. If not, have him call me, but it needs to be in the next hour, before I’m off the grid.”

With a snort of disgust, he hangs up. Lifting his cup to his lips, he turns and stops when he sees me. His eyes warm, and the grim expression fades. He sets his cup down and crosses the room to gather me in his arms. He nuzzles my neck. “I’m going to steal you away and make you my woman. Just as soon as I get back. I told Claire to fast-track our wedding, but I’m not sure if she’s going to do as I ask. Remind her for me.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and hold onto him. “You’re leaving…”

He cups my face. “I almost never have to go out of town.”

“But sometimes you do?”

“Right, but ninety-nine percent of the time, I’ll take you with me.”

I smile and nod, and I can feel my eyes prickling again. He kisses me gently, but firmly, like he wants to be tender with me, but possessive too. His arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me against him. I shiver with arousal. His cock presses against my stomach. His grip tightens. He strokes me with his tongue, groaning when I part my lips and submit to his kiss.

With a deep growl, he pulls away from me. “I better stop now.”

Neither of us talk much as he gathers his things and gets ready to leave.

“You won’t be able to text me for a few days,” he says gruffly. “But if you need anything, call Claire. I left my credit card on the counter.”

I walk him to the elevator. He brushes a kiss across my lips before stepping into the elevator. His gaze remains fixed on mine as the doors close and then he’s gone. I can’t help feeling bereft. Normally, I’d know just how to keep busy. Whenever things get difficult, I can distract myself, but that was before Roman.

Chelsea hasn’t spoken to me since she broke up with Brendon. I suppose she’s embarrassed. I tried to call and text, but she’s ignored me completely. My friends from the culinary school are busy working and I’m left to my own devices. Even Claire is too busy to get together or go shopping. We were going to look at wedding dresses, but she’s asked to wait till Roman and Damon return from their assignments.

One day drifts into the next. The nights are the worst, but the days aren’t much better. I try to keep busy. Cooking shows. Napping. A few trips to the market. I’ve never felt so bored or miserable. After four days, I get a text from Chelsea, asking if I can meet. She doesn’t want to meet anywhere public, for some reason, so I invite her to the penthouse.

I call the doorman and tell him that I’m expecting company.

An hour later, Chelsea arrives. She steps off the elevator without a word and stands silently in the foyer. She’s bundled up in a coat and hat and scarf. Slowly, she unwinds the scarf, revealing a band of bruises across her neck. A wave of nausea comes over me.

“I have to get out of town,” she says, simply.

I nod, too distraught to speak.

“I don’t know when he’ll get out of jail, but when he does, I need to be gone.”

“Roman says he won’t get bail. He made sure of it.”

“His brother has threatened me. He thinks I’m going to testify against him.”

“You will, right?”

“Not if Blake has his way.”

“What are you going to do?”

Her mouth twists into an expression I’ve never seen. I’ve never seen her like this, completely diminished. I can’t help taking a step back from her to gain some distance. It’s like I’m looking at a stranger.

“I need money.”

“Of course, you do.” I let out a sigh of relief. “I have a few hundred dollars in my purse.”

“Tessa, you don’t understand. Brendon’s family wants me gone.” She points to her throat. “This was just a warning, to keep quiet. If I testify against Brendon, I’ll keep myself safe from him, but I’ll be in trouble with the rest of them.”

“All I have is $400.”

Her gaze lowers to my hand. “I saw you that night on the news, when you got your ring.”

Following her gaze, I realize she’s looking at my engagement ring. It looks obscenely huge. I can only imagine how it looks to Chelsea. Decadent. Lavish. Over the top.

And the answer to her problems.

She lifts her eyes to mine. “He sure must love you.”

Her tone is heavy with sarcasm. It feels like getting slapped. Maybe I would say things like that if I were desperate, but still it takes a moment for me to respond. My throat is dry. My heart pounds against my ribs.

“Does he,” she mocks. “Love you?”

I part my lips to say something, but before I can, she flings another barb my direction.

“Has he told you that he loves you?”

“No,” I whisper. “But-”

“But what? You think he’s going to marry you? Men like that use girls like toys. As a way to pass the time. He’s not looking for a gutter rat, Tessa.”

Her words are a blow to my gut, forcing the air from my lungs. “That’s not true.”

“How much did that rock cost?”

“I have no idea. I’m not even sure if it’s paid for.”

She snorts, like that’s the dumbest thing she’s ever heard, and she looks around the penthouse, not moving from her spot. I can see her taking in every detail, like she’s doing a mental inventory. A moment ago, I was looking forward to Chelsea’s visit. Now I just want to get her out of here. The ring feels heavy and cold and I know what she was thinking when she was looking at it.

I get my coat and purse and return to the foyer. “C’mon, Chels. Let’s go for a walk.”