Chapter Nine

Tessa

He takes my hand, walks me through the penthouse and stops in front of the guest room door. His voice is warm, filled with concern, so different from the sexy flirting tone he had over dinner. He’s telling me what he wants me to do about Chelsea. While he makes his instructions sound casual, there’s a steely edge to the way he lays everything out. He’s back to bossy Roman. The guy who isn’t interested in discussing things. Do it my way and no one gets hurt Roman. That guy.

“I’m not saying you need to block Chelsea forever. Just for tonight. It’s clear her boyfriend is sending messages and I don’t want him to upset you anymore.”

I do as he says. I’ve blocked people before, just a few times, but never Chelsea. She and I don’t ever argue. Cutting off communication hurts my heart. I tell myself it’s just for tonight which makes me feel a little better.

He cups my shoulders and smiles at me. “Go take a bath or read a book. Try to relax.”

A rush of warmth fills my chest. I’d love for him to wrap me in his arms again. That’s what I really want. “I thought I was supposed to be taking care of you. I thought that was how I would pay my debt. Not the other way around.”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.”

The sexy, rumbling drawl is back. A sense of nervous energy surges through me. This man could talk me into anything he wants, but I’m not sure if he doesn’t just really want to lend me a hand. Obviously, I’m in a little bit of a bind. His work is taking care of people, so maybe that’s what this is all about.

He gives my shoulders a slight squeeze. My breath catches. Kiss me…

But he drops his hold on me and steps away. “I’m right down the hall, if you need anything.”

Throughout dinner, he flirted shamelessly, but all that changed the minute I told him about Brendon’s text. He shifted into protective mode, acting like I’m made of spun glass or something that’s impossibly fragile. I don’t know what to expect from him. On one hand I should be concerned, right? He’s coerced me, blackmailed me into staying with him. On the other, all he’s done is protect and spoil me.

I smile at him wistfully, missing his touch already. “Good night.”

He backs away, keeping his eyes on me. “Good night, pretty girl.”

I slip inside my room feeling like Cinderella on cloud nine. After I change into a luxurious, silken nightgown, I get into bed. One minute, I’m snuggling under the covers, the next I’m fast asleep. The night passes quickly. It’s amazing how well I sleep in a quiet room without Chelsea’s drama playing out in the apartment. Not having to deal with her ups and downs makes me drift into a deep sleep and wake up totally refreshed.

Outside, snow blankets the world, and more is falling. Thick flakes swirl past my windows. The sky is the color of dark metal and promises more snow.

I shower and dress in a pair of slacks and a cashmere sweater. I shiver as I dress, but the moment I pull the sweater on I’m instantly warm and comforted. I let out a sigh of pleasure. Roman spared no expense in buying me clothes. This sweater, the color of a rich toffee, feels like heaven. It’s light yet warm and clings to my curves in a way that I like. I look at my reflection and wonder what Roman will see.

The aroma of coffee wafts down the hallway. Roman stands at the counter, reading the paper, drinking a steaming cup of coffee. He looks up, and freezes, his cup halfway to his mouth.

“Good morning, pretty girl.”

His voice is rough from sleep. The five o’clock shadow he had last night has darkened overnight. I’d like to run my fingers along his jaw to feel the stubble. The thought makes my breasts ache with need. My nipples harden. Part of me wonders if they’re visible under the weave of the sweater. Normally something like that would bother me. A lot. But for some reason, with Roman, I don’t even care. I don’t mind of he catches a hint of how my body responds to him.

Maybe I want him to know.

He lets his gaze wander down the length of my body, amping up my arousal. He doesn’t say anything. Instead he turns away, wanders to the window, shoves his hands in his pockets and keeps his gaze fixed on the water far off in the distance. A brooding silence fills the space between us.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and come to his side. When I give him a playful nudge, he comes back to me. He smiles. And we’re back to the playful banter I love. We spend the next twenty minutes debating what to do for breakfast. I insist that I should cook for him. He says I’m not cooking if I’m bruised. In the end he wins, of course, and soon we’re walking through the fresh snow to one of the few restaurants that happen to be open.

The area around the apartment building is filled with high-end stores. There’s a kitchen store that has pots and pans from the Netherlands, and a store dedicated just to yoga apparel. The corner is occupied by a stationery store where you can get personalized stationery, letterhead in gold-leaf. Some of the shops are closed, but a surprising number are open.

We eat breakfast in a little café. It’s noisy and filled with light and laughter. Everyone from the bankers to the barkeeps is happy to have the day off work. The café’s staff don’t have the day off, of course, but they’re happy too. Our waiter says that’s because the blizzard makes people tip big time.

After breakfast, we browse through a bookstore, buy flowers from a florist and wander the snowy sidewalks like tourists. When Roman takes my hand, it feels as natural as my next breath. Gentle and reassuring.

“You’re very gallant. And kind too,” I tell him. “Despite the fact that I snuck into your home and wound up breaking something so valuable.”

“I’m not kind. Not really. You’re going to pay for the vase. I just haven’t told you how.”

I sniff the flowers, but then, like a dork, remember calla lilies have no fragrance. He grins at me, mocking me. I shake my head to dismiss his teasing.

“What’s the vase going to cost me? Am I going to have to name my firstborn after you?”

He gives me a smoldering gaze. “Not if we have a girl.”

My stomach flips. He’s flirting again. The teasing and flirting is something he turns on and off, bewildering me. I don’t like it at all and just wish I knew where I stood with him.

“This is some sort of game to you, isn’t it?”

“I don’t play games, Tessa.” His voice sounds different, almost stern, and suddenly we’re not walking on the sidewalk anymore. He’s leading me down a narrow passage that separates two tall buildings. No one’s around and the only nearby sound is the swish of our footsteps in the snow.

He stops in front of a doorway and nudges me atop the threshold step. I’m wearing his heavy coat, but despite the thick fabric, I can feel his hands on my hips. He’s touched me here and there, fleeting caresses, and the other day when I fainted at the Com Center, he carried me, but this is different. It feels intimate, deliberate, and the firm grip is meant to show he’s controlling me, keeping me right where he wants me.

He holds me with his gaze too. It’s intense, burning with a different sort of light, not the soft, warmth he’s had in his eyes since last night. His fingers press into my body. Heat darts along my skin. I can’t help leaning into his touch, seeking more.

“There’s something between us,” he says. “Something I’ve felt since the first day you started work. I knew right away you were someone else, not Margie.”

I’m holding the bouquet of lilies and they’re creating a sort of wall between us. He glances down, grasps my hand and sets it on his shoulder and, just like that, the barrier is gone. His gaze drifts down my face and pauses on my mouth.

His lips tilt up. “All I wanted to do last night was take you to bed. I didn’t because you were upset. It wasn’t the right time. But make no mistake, Tessa, you’re mine, and when I say those words, I mean them. I’m not playing any sort of game. You. Are. Mine. I’ll take you to bed, and once I get you in my bed, there won’t be anything or anyone that will ever convince me to let you go.”

My heart slams against my chest so hard, I wonder if he can hear it. Snow falls all around us. A hush spreads along the length of the alley. In the distance, I can hear people talking and laughing, but here between Roman and me there’s no sound. He waits for something from me. I nod even though I’m not really sure what I’m agreeing to.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Do you believe me?”

“I think… I don’t know.”

“You want me to tell you how I know?” He taps a blunt finger against his massive chest. “I feel it here.”

Then he puts his finger under my chin and tilts my head back. Even though I’m standing on a step above him, he’s still taller. He lowers to brush a kiss across my lips. Without meaning to make a sound, I whimper. I don’t know where that came from. It just fell from my lips, and he growls with something that sounds like approval.

The first touch of his lips to mine shakes me to my core. All I want is to melt into his arms, run my hands across the span of his chest and touch his skin. He’s all muscle and power and I don’t want to do anything other than submit to every one of his demands.

He pulls me tighter, angles his head and teases my lips with his tongue. His kiss makes me dizzy and desperate for more. His hand comes to my head, cupping the back of my head so that he holds me right where he wants me. I part my lips, giving in to him completely.

His short beard abrades my skin. The kiss is deep, but I can tell he’s holding back. Hard, possessive energy rolls off his body. He’s like a big, predatory animal, crouching to spring, yet his hold on me is gentle. Tender. He moves his hands to my face, looks into my eyes and gives me a smirk. “Now do you believe me? Do you believe that you’re mine? All mine?”