Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
I want to stretch against him and relax back into his warmth. I can’t. I can’t stay here. I need to meet with Paul and I need to see if he’s managed to get any more leads on Allen. I can’t help but stare at Roman for a minute. Asleep, he looks different. Still devastatingly handsome and breathtaking, but his face is softer, relaxed … even peaceful. I’ve spent the last couple of days kicking myself for being attracted to Roman. It goes against everything I stand for. I know what kind of man he is. I know the things he does. All of that should make me run in the opposite direction. Yet, here I am in bed with him, breaking every rule I’ve put in place, and not even able to drum up enough guilt to care. In fact, if he was to wake up right now, I’d give myself to him again.
I should have never crossed that line. Now I’m afraid I’ll never be able to go back.
I try to slide out of the bed, but Roman’s hand stops me, pulling me back into him. At first I’m afraid I’ve woken him, but he mumbles and shifts in his sleep. I hold myself as still as humanly possible, but doing so causes me to breathe in his scent, and this tiny frisson of need blooms in my stomach and moves through my body. Good Lord, he’s more addicting than any drug on the market. Once he settles down, I try once again to slide away. He protests at first, his fingers pressing into my side. No one has ever tried to hold on to me, in bed or out, and the fact that Roman is, really messes with my head.
I push it away. I can’t fixate on that right now. I carefully replace my body with the pillow above my head and, inch by inch, pull away. It takes me awhile to gather my clothes, mostly because I keep looking back expecting Roman to catch me. Insanity. He’ll probably be glad I’m going. He doesn’t seem the type to indulge in awkward morning-after conversation.
I have my satchel, but I’m afraid to take the time to find clean clothes, so I put my underwear and bra back on in disgust. I’ve never done it before. Is this what makes the walk of shame so… shameful? Then, I hold the rest of the clothes and my overnight bag tight to my chest and carefully leave the room. I can get dressed with less worry in the living area. I’m pulling up my pants when I hear movement to my right. My eyes look up and that’s when I see the maid from last night. She’s shooting me a look much like I imagine Medusa would use when turning her victims to stone.
“Um… I was just going to…”
“Leave? Don’t let me stop you. Mr. Anthes doesn’t normally like his whores to be here when he wakes up, so you should hurry. The few that overstayed their welcome wish they hadn’t.”
I’m completely taken aback. Her words smack me harder than any physical blow would. If looks could kill, I would be dead.
“I’m sorry about the dishes. I could help.” Even as I’m saying the words, I hate them, but I need to not make enemies. I do not need someone dying to destroy me, especially in Roman’s home.
“The last thing I need is your help,” she replies cattily.
Well, it can’t get any clearer than that. I quickly put my shirt and socks on, then walk to the door.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” I say again. Really, at this point I want to kick my own ass.
“Just make sure you didn’t steal anything. Mr. Anthes will not look kindly towards a thief.”
Look kindly? Steal? Thief? There so much there to dislike and the words make me swallow the acid that has churned up from my stomach. I want to scream at her and maybe throat-punch her, kick her in the lady-junk. Something.
Instead, I ignore her, which is no consolation. I quietly open the door and step outside. I lean against it and take a large breath, feeling like I just escaped prison. My body jumps when I hear the click of the lock from the other side. The maid, no doubt. Bitch. I take a deep breath and then walk away. If I hurry, I’ll have just enough time to shower before I meet Paul. The last thing I need is to go see him while smelling like sex—like sex with Roman. I can only imagine the lectures that will get me.
Chapter Seventeen
Ana
“The next time you decide to text me at six in the morning and ask me to meet you in thirty minutes, the least you could do is be on time, Ana,” Paul says, his gravelly voice ringing out in the empty warehouse. We’re meeting in an abandoned warehouse about three blocks from the apartment I’m renting. I think it used to be an old dog food factory. Now it’s just empty cement that smells musty, dirty, and—just to add spice—seems to have a faint smell of urine. Whether it’s human or animal, I couldn’t begin to know, and don’t care to find out.