Chapter Seven

Tessa

He leaves the room, but not before announcing that he’s taking me to dinner. We’re not going anywhere far away. With the blizzard, the whole city is practically shut down. We have reservations at a nearby restaurant at seven-thirty, two hours from now.

When I resisted the idea of dinner with him, he told me dinner was my first assignment. No arguing. No negotiating. I’d chosen to trespass in his home, and it was his prerogative to deal with me as he saw fit.

Left alone in the room, I stand in the middle of the sea of bags and parcels. The whole evening leaves me feeling stunned and completely shocked. His prerogative…

He’d spoken in a clipped, business-like tone. He basically announced that I’m his prisoner until he’s decided I’ve paid off the value of the broken vase. This seems an awful lot like kidnapping or extortion or some very bad thing, the type of thing that doesn’t happen to me. I’m a sensible girl. Boring, I’ve been told, most recently by Chelsea.

Eyeing the bags and boxes, I consider my options. I can’t stay, but I have nowhere to go.

A few hours ago, I entertained all sorts of naughty ideas about Roman. I’d reveled in the way he held me in his arms last night. Now I’m practically his prisoner. He’s made it clear. I owe him a debt he intends to collect.

Warmth flutters in my stomach. I pick up a bag and pull out a dress. It’s a basic, little black dress, and after looking a little more, I find a pair of ebony heels. The clothes are beautiful, expensive designer labels that I’ve only seen in magazines.

The bags and boxes and parcels cover the floor and half the queen-sized bed. The man hired a shopper. For me. I shake my head as I unpack several bags of bras and panties that a stranger picked out with me in mind. Everything is my size. I can’t help blushing with embarrassment as I try to imagine Roman giving this person instructions on what to buy for me.

How long ago did he put this plan in motion? I have so many questions.

Darkness falls. Snow swirls and the wind whips past the windows. I’m not leaving. Not tonight. Tonight, I need to go to dinner and work out some sort of arrangement. I cringe at the word.

Arrangement…

I try on a few things, and on a whim decide to wear the black dress to dinner.

Over the next hour and a half, I get ready for dinner. I shower and blow-dry my hair. I have makeup in my purse, thank goodness. The bathroom is fully stocked, even with hot rollers, so I take the time to curl my hair. Why not? I might as well look my best when I’m sitting with Roman.

When I’m done, I stand in front of the full-length mirror and appraise myself. The dress molds to my body, showing off every curve, which I don’t care for, but I’m going with it anyway. The heels help a lot. I leave my hair down and the soft, bouncy curls tumble past my shoulders.

I leave my room at a little past seven to look for Roman. I hadn’t heard any sounds coming from the hallway while I dressed, so I assume he hasn’t stepped out. He might be reluctant to leave me alone in case I make a run for it. Which won’t be happening in these six-inch heels. As I pass the dining room, I notice that the broken vase has been cleaned up. I stop in the doorway. A wave of shame washes over me.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says from the den.

I turn to face him. “I’m sorry. I’ve never broken anything like that before-”

He holds up a hand to stop me. “It’s not important.”

“And yet…” I’m not sure how to finish the sentence. On one hand he says it’s not important, and yet I can see in his eyes that he’s not backing down from his demand that I pay for the damages. He waits, one brow arched. “And yet, I still need to pay for the vase.”

“You do. By working for me. The same thing you’ve been doing. The only difference is that you’ll stay here.”

“For how long?”

“A long time.”

His voice is low and soft and edged with heat. If he’s trying to intimidate me into complying, he’s doing a great job. He’s stands in the middle of the den. I’m struck by a jolt of prickling nervousness. Dressed casually, he wears dark gray slacks, a button-down shirt open at the neck and a sports coat. He’s handsome. Flawless.

From the beginning, I knew he was a big powerful man, but now my awareness of him fills an entirely different universe. He hasn’t said anything to me this evening or last that contains a hint of inappropriateness, and yet I feel the energy pulsing between us. A sensual awareness.

In the past, I told my friends that I didn’t want to date anyone, that I was fine waiting till I was older. I realize now that I’d never been so attracted to a man. With a rush of understanding, I can see that I’m in so much more trouble than I’d imagined.

He must see the distraught look on my face, because his demeanor changes. He’d been staring at me intently, but he relaxes his posture and smiles. He’s got dimples. Of course, he does. Shit.

“So, this is just business, right?” My heart slams my ribs. “I need to know.”

“It is business. But it could be pleasure. If I had my way.” He doesn’t move a muscle. He still appears relaxed, but his shoulders are tense. His jaw is set, and his body is taut with raw, masculine energy. “The offer’s there, if you want it.”

“And if I don’t.” My throat is tight. “If I don’t want anything more than business?”

“Then it will be all business. Nothing more.”

Now that he’s laid his cards on the table, I feel a sense of relief. I know he wants me. I felt it the moment I first locked eyes with him, but he’s not pushing or making me feel vulnerable. If anything, his admission makes me feel better because I know where I stand, for now.

He takes a few steps closer. “Either way, I won’t let you keep living in place that’s not safe. If I need to use blackmail, it won’t bother me a bit. And in the meantime, I’ve got a pretty girl I can spoil for a little while.”

He moves closer, takes my hand in his and smiles. “Let me take you to eat something.”

His hand envelopes mine with a gentle but powerful hold. His scent hits me as tingles travel up my arm. With a seductive gleam in his eye, he rubs his thumb across my skin.

“Don’t look so scared, Tessa. This could be fun. And tonight, it’s just a simple dinner. Scout’s honor.”

He squeezes my hand before letting go. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t come closer either. I shiver. Part of me wants to retreat. Part of me wants to press closer and inhale his masculine, spicy scent. Everything about him devastates me.

I nod. “I don’t have a proper coat, just the leather jacket you lent me last night.”

“The restaurant is next door. They have a side entrance just off the foyer.”

After an awkward elevator ride, we arrive downstairs to a crowded lobby. I’ve never been here in the evening. The foyer is filled with frazzled people returning from work, and elegantly dressed people heading out for the evening.

“I better hold on to you,” he says. “I don’t want any of the men around here thinking you’re alone.”

He offers his arm, a gesture that’s so gallant, it makes me smile. He frowns at me.

“Are you being serious? You’re worried that men are what? Checking me out?”

“Tessa.” He shakes his head, a look of disbelief in his eyes. “You have no idea, do you?”

The gentle teasing from a few moments ago is gone now. He looks puzzled and a little annoyed. When a man passes by and gives me a double-take, Roman’s expression darkens. Pressing his lips together, he scowls, holds out his hand and waits for me to take it.

We’re facing each other in the middle of the crowded foyer. As people flow around us, he moves closer to me, looming over me, like he wants to snatch me away from the crowd. His eyes flash with a possessive gleam. I can’t tear my eyes from him. No one has ever looked at me like that before.

“Take. My. Hand,” he grinds out.

“There are a lot of people around,” I murmur.

“I know.”

“I could make a run for it.”

He blinks in surprise. “Run for it?”

“Right. I could make my escape, give you the slip and race out those doors.”

His lips quirk. “Think so? How far do you think you’d get in those heels?”

“I’m very fast.”

“I’d catch you.” He takes my hand in his, runs his other hand down my back and presses it to my lower back. He lowers to whisper in my ear. “And then I’d let you go. Just for an instant. You’d think you’d gotten away, but I’d be right behind you, and I’d grab you again. Wrap you up in my arms. I might let you go a few times, but I’d always be just a step away. Would you like that? A little game of cat and mouse?”

He looks into my eyes and waits for a response. When I don’t reply immediately, he narrows his eyes. A moment ago, he didn’t want anyone to think I was there by myself, but he’s not concerned anymore. He towers over me. Every single thing about his posture makes it clear that I belong to him. His scent and his touch and the curiously erotic scenario he just described make my thoughts scatter.

“Maybe some other time,” he says. “I’ll chase you and catch you even though I’ll give you a head start.”

Roman guides me through the mass of people. We walk down the hallway into the restaurant. Moments later, we’re seated at a table.

“Wine?” he asks.

“Please.”

I shouldn’t drink anything. I’m more than light-headed. He’s wrecked my defenses. He brushes his hand across my lower back as he guides me to our booth, and then sits beside me. Casual. Like this isn’t any big deal. I was doing okay a few minutes ago, but sitting next to him overwhelms me. My heart is about to give out.

I stare at the menu, not really seeing anything since I’m reeling from the sensory overload.

Roman orders a bottle of wine and an appetizer. The moment the waiter leaves, he turns to me with a wry smile curving his lips.

“As much as I like your cooking, I like the idea of taking you out.” His gaze travels from my eyes to my lips and back again. “And I really like seeing you in heels and a dress. I might never let you cook dinner.”

“How am I going to pay off my debt?”

His expression is sultry, but his words have a very different tone. “By staying with me, keeping away from men who push women around.”

The waiter returns, shows the wine bottle to Roman and then proceeds to uncork it. Roman offers me the glass to taste it. I like wine, but it goes straight to my head. We were expected to know a little about wine and beer in culinary school. On Fridays, we ended the week with a big meal. All the students, about twenty of us, took turns making a meal for the instructors. We’d serve wine, but we didn’t serve anything like this.

It’s got a rich, deep flavor that’s a lot different from the wines I’ve tasted. I’m no connoisseur, but I can tell this costs a little more than the stuff I’ve tried before.

“You like it?” Roman asks.

“It’s wonderful.”

I take another sip and set the glass aside. I don’t want to add to the swirling confusion in my mind.

The waiter returns a short while later, bringing us a gorgeous plate of oysters. We order dinner and enjoy the appetizer. Roman keeps the conversation light. Slowly I relax. A few times, I catch a woman staring at us from across the restaurant. She’s gorgeous. Leggy. Dark-haired with light eyes and a full mouth that’s curved downwards. She’s looking at Roman as if she’d like to grind him under her red heel.

“Roman,” I say softly. “Do you see that woman across the restaurant?”

His eyes flick to her table and back to me. “Yes.”

He returns his attention to me, leaning a little closer. His scent makes my thoughts spin wildly. The booth is dark, but a single candle casts shadows across his face. I’m sure this looks like we’re lovers. I can practically feel the daggers launching from the other woman’s eyes. The hair on the back of my neck prickles.

The wine has changed my mood from nervous to reckless. I’m having dinner with the man of my dreams. I might only ever have this night with him. Nothing in my life ever lasts. I shouldn’t indulge in any jealousy when it comes to Roman Savage, but I don’t like the possessive way this woman looks at him. I’ve had a few sips of wine. The lightweight that I am, I already feel a small burst of bravado.

“I should tell you something about that woman,” I say, keeping my attention fixed on him.

His brows lift. “Oh?”

I take a sip of my wine. “She and I used to be a thing.”

A huff of surprise comes from his full lips. He blinks. “Really?”

I shrug a shoulder and give him a sheepish look.

But he recovers quickly, with a perfectly deadpanned, “I wouldn’t have guessed that about you.”

“It’s over now. It has been over for a long time, but she just won’t let go.”

He shakes his head with feigned sympathy. “If I were her, I’d hang on too.”

The woman leans over to say something to her companion, a gray-haired man, and gets to her feet. She moves across the restaurant, her gaze fixed on Roman, her lip curled with disdain. She’s got to be six feet tall.

“Here she comes,” I whisper. “Don’t worry, I won’t let her hurt you.”

“Right,” he scoffs, clearly not buying my story. He gets to his feet. “Felicia, nice to see you.”

“Roman.” She gives him a frosty smile.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and I’m not sure if that’s because he doesn’t want to touch or kiss her, but something inside me stands up and cheers.

“This is a surprise,” he says in a way that’s not terribly surprised.

She turns her cold gaze to me and tilts her head, like a hawk eyeing its prey. Everything about her is perfect. Chiseled cheekbones. Full bee-sting lips. Brows arched with an unnatural curve. And the boobs. Ugh, they’re perfectly sculpted breasts, a size or three smaller than mine. This woman will never hoard bulky sweaters.

“Felicia, this is my fiancée, Tessa.”

I draw a sharp breath and probably stare like a total fool. He’s introducing me as his fiancée? I’m almost as shocked as she is. The woman sways and suddenly I feel a little sorry for her. I’m trying not to think about this woman and Roman as a couple, but I don’t want to humiliate her either. If the two of them were a thing, she’s got to be hurt and totally embarrassed to find him at dinner with a different woman.

He turns to me. “Felicia’s father is a client of mine. She and I played tennis together last year. Once. In a tournament to benefit the children’s hospital.”

He’s explaining all this to show that this woman isn’t what I’d imagined. He’s doing it in a way that’s not ugly or obvious. Or not to me, at least. Felicia looks more irritated with his explanation.

“Doubles.” She narrows her eyes. “We were amazing together.”

Roman shakes his head and turns to face me. “Felicia was amazing. I had nothing to do with it.”

She smirks and returns her attention to Roman. “We should play again. Soon.”

“Thank you, Felicia,” he says. “But if I play tennis again, I’m playing with Tessa. Singles.”

Her mouth puckers. Her shoulders stiffen. He gave an elegant dismissal without insulting her, and I’m grateful for both her and my sake. Should I tell him that I’m the world’s worst tennis player? No. Not now. I’m not even sure if we’re talking about actual tennis.

“It was nice to see you, Roman.” She turns to me. “Congratulations.”

Her glance drops to my hand, to check out my ring, most likely. I’m not wearing one, obviously, but I love that she thinks I actually might be.

“Nice to meet you, Felicia.” She sweeps away, a cloud of elegance and disdain. With a gesture, she summons her elderly companion from the table. They leave the restaurant and the moment they’re gone, I breathe a sigh of relief.

Roman returns to his seat in the booth next to me. He edges closer, brimming with restrained laughter. “Not to be rude, but I think she’s gotten over you, sweetheart.”