Then the car slowed, and Rome glanced at me. “We’re meeting Dean Garrett for lunch. The scuba diver, remember? He wants to go over a few details about the schedule for his project.”

I blinked. “What?” That wasn’t on the schedule.

“I know,” Rome said, eyes dark, “it could have been a phone call, but he insisted. I think he just wanted to see you again.” His lips curled in a satisfied smirk as he ran his finger down the center of my chest, where a thin sheen of moisture had coated my skin.

The glower I gave him was one of my best, and it made him throw his head back and laugh. I straightened my clothes and huffed. “Tell me you didn’t just make me ride your thigh as some alpha posturing bullshit with one of your business buddies. Tell me you’re not that much of an asshole, Rome.”

Rome leaned in and kissed my lips with more tenderness than I would have expected. “I made you ride my thigh because I’ve been desperate to make you come since the moment you walked into my office, Nikki. The fact that it might make Garrett wonder what put that pretty flush on your cheeks is just a bonus.”

The feminist in me should have been upset, but I found myself liking the fact that Rome wanted to stake his claim on me. I wasn’t just his plus-one today. I was just plain his.

TWENTY-NINE

NIKKI

The days meltedinto each other, and I drifted along as if on a cloud. I moved into a new apartment in Manhattan. It was part of a block of apartments owned by Blakely’s corporation, and it was huge. My teal velvet couch looked a bit tired against all the gleaming new fixtures, but it was all I had.

It had a huge closet, which was a luxury I hadn’t anticipated. I signed a year lease and let out a long breath. At least I had somewhere to live, and I could afford it.

Even if most of the time I spent my nights at Rome’s place.

Two weeks after the thigh-riding incident—which Rome and I might or might not have repeated a time or two—I found myself in a cafe with my hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. Eleanor sat across from me, regaling me with the gossip from the lower floors. We were finally getting around to meeting up for that drink she’d suggested over a month ago.

“Ophelia has been on a tear for weeks,” she said, clicking her tongue. “She’s insufferable. She made two interns cry yesterday.”

I grimaced. “Is it bad to say I never liked her?”

“She thinks very highly of herself,” Eleanor agreed with a nod. But her eyes took on an interested gleam as she set her mug down on the table between us. “I overheard her on the phone saying that you and Rome had something going on.”

I hid my reaction to the words with a sip of scalding coffee, taking my time to set my mug down before answering. There was an official line, of course. For all intents and purposes, Rome and I were an item. Before we started sleeping together, I’d had no problem saying so.

But now that we kind ofwerean item, it felt strange to have to lie about it. Except the lie was the truth. But the truth was a lie.

I shook my head. Whatever it was, it was confusing. Rome and I were…together. But there was a contract between us, complete with benefits and perks and a fat paycheck, and that made things murky.

Would he still want to be with me if the contract didn’t exist? Did he actually want me for me, or was I just a convenient lay?

“We’re seeing each other,” I confirmed.

Eleanor’s eyes went wide. She leaned back in her chair, staring at me. “What? Since when?”

“Well…you know he picked me up from the hospital when I hurt myself.”

“I was sure he was just covering himself,” Eleanor said, amazed. “Especially with them offering everyone a permanent contract right after that happened.”

My lips twisted with a tinge of bitterness. “Maybe he was, and I won him over with my charm.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Unbelievable. You know he hasn’t dated anyone in years? People were saying he was some sort of sexual deviant and that’s why he could never maintain a relationship.”

I huffed. Rome Blakely absolutely was a sexual deviant. An insatiable, unbelievable, beautiful one.

“Does Ophelia have a crush on him, or something?”

Eleanor shrugged. “I think she’s just angling for a promotion. That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

I hummed, nodding. I hoped it was professional interest. Not because I was threatened by her, but because I didn’t want anyone asking any uncomfortable questions. Only a handful of people knew about the companion contract, but if word got out…

“We’re going to Thanksgiving dinner at his parents’ place,” I told Eleanor to fill the silence.