Page 104 of Sinful Escape

He drove his hands through his hair and met my gaze. “No, I don’t.”

The pain in his voice was as brutal as the steely resolve in his eyes.

Roman was still hurting.

I knew exactly how that felt. Hell, I’d been hurting for more than five years.

Before I had a chance to perfect a reply, Roman slipped away from my side and sidled up next to Samson from New Zealand.

For the first time since I started my job, I didn’t want to put my tour guide hat on. I wanted to have a one-on-one conversation with someone.

Not just any someone—a man.

We reached the square and reluctantly, I pulled my group in to get their attention. “I know most of you have probably OD’d on architecture, but is there anyone who would still like a tour of the buildings in this square?”

I was both surprised and a tad disappointed when a few hands were raised.

Get your act together, Daisy. This is your job.

A job that you excel at.

Forcing Roman from my mind, I put energy into my voice. “Okay, those of you who are interested, follow me. The rest of you, stick with Roman and we’ll get back to you in about half an hour.”

I put my walking tour on speed dial, and for twenty-two minutes we scooted around the cobblestone square. It felt like hours. While I pointed out one important building after another, Roman and the other half of the group were entertained by street buskers dotted around the square.

Even with some of the most incredible buildings in front of me, my eyes kept wandering over the abundant crowds in the square, seeking out Roman, checking he was okay.

Of course he was—he was surrounded by blokes his age and beautiful women who hung off every word he said. Roman was the center of attention and loving every minute of it. But now I knew his secret. Roman was hurting on the inside. I knew exactly how easy it was to portray that everything was okay when on the inside you were crumbling into tiny, jagged pieces.

I couldn’t return to him soon enough.

“There you are . . . about time.” He curled his arm over my shoulder, and his cheeky smile had my insides swooping.

Damn my girly bits. “Sorry, I?—”

“Let’s get this party going, shall we?” He turned toward the crowd, and as I tried to ignore the bulge and flex of his sexy butt, he gathered our group in.

It took all my might not to fan myself when he finally turned his gaze to me and touched the small of my back. “They’re all yours.”

Silently telling my girly bits to calm the fuck down, I cleared my throat. “Okay, listen up. As you all probably know, Belgium is known for three things—chocolate, waffles, and . . .” I opened my arms, inviting their response.

“Beer,” just about everyone blurted in unison and we all laughed.

“That’s right. Tonight, you’ll get your share of all three.”

“Just beer for me,” bellowed Mike.

“I’ll have his chocolates,” Tiffany volunteered with a raised hand.

I’ve seen Mike and Tiffany hooking up several times in the last week. I expected they’d do it again tonight. After all, it was their last night on tour and quite possibly their last night together. They’d make a cute couple, but I doubted either of them were expecting anything serious to come of it. Much like me and the men I’d been with this month. It was all just a bit of fun.

Wow . . . I never thought I’d actually be able to boast about that. Not ever.

I truly had changed.

And I liked the new me.

At the top of the square, I led the group to our first boutique beer brewery, Five Bees. The Five Bees had nothing to do with bees—rather, it was an acronym for boutique beer brewery in Brussels Belgium, five Bs. It should have had another B for bedlam.

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