Page 104 of Sinful Temptations

“If you’re gonna do that, then you need to commit. Full-on go for it. Hook Roman up with that other chick and get him out of your brain. Then you get back on that fucking horse and get yourself laid. Just pretend Roman is me.”

“Pfft. Nobody is like you.”

“Yeah. I know that.” She bulged her eyes. “But I mean, pretend he’s just a friend, and your job is to hook him up with anybody else but you. Or . . .” Her eyes bulged even more. “Or there is an option C—you fuckhisbrains out, but the whole time remind yourself that it means nothing. Just sex.”

I groaned again. “Not sure I can do that.”

“Ahhh. Pity. Okay then, so it’s option A or option B.”

I wasn’t sure I could fully open my heart again. Williamhad already fed my heart into a shredder, and I was only just putting the last pieces together. But it was too late—Roman had entered my heart already and I was going to implode. Squeezing my eyes shut, I sighed.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I need to sleep on it.”

“Okay, babe. I’m here for you. Call me anytime. I mean it—any time. Love ya, babe.”

“Love you too. Thanks for the chat.” After hanging up the call, I put my phone on to charge and crawled into bed.

As I closed my eyes, Roman flashed across my mind—beautiful images of the sun glistening in his eyes, of him dancing and moving his hips to the energetic beat. Of him rubbing my leg when I was crippled with period pain. And then there was his smile, the one that made me feel like I was the only woman in the world.

“Oh, Roman.”

He’d not only entered my heart—he’d entered my soul too.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The next few days, as we crawled through Rome, Venice, and finally arrived at Thorsteinn Castle in Austria, were the emotional equivalent of a tornado.

Every time I thought I knew the answer to what to do about Roman, my mind would twist again, and the solution would be ripped from my grasp.

Roman and Lydia continued to flirt with each other, and although I tried to give them as much space as possible, I was also like a creepy stalker, constantly checking out Roman.

Zali and I talked every day and her worry for me was upsetting. She had enough going on without my bullshit adding to it.

Roman had become unpredictable, seesawing from jovial and smiling to dark and brooding. My heart wept at his inability to open up to me. And I was absolutely useless at that stuff. Whenever we had a private moment together, which unfortunately was rare, I either didn’t want to ruin it, or I had no idea how to initiate the difficult conversation.

But there was a theme that was becoming as obvious as if we were in an Italian opera. When Roman was with Lydia, hewas happy. With me, not so much. I had a terrible feeling it was something I’d done. And the timing meant it was something I’d done the night after the winery.

Lord knew what I’d said while I was drunk.

With my feelings for him being my own private battleground, I’d probably fired a freakin’ ‘I love you’ cannon and I didn’t even remember it.

Oh, God.I wanted to crawl under the bus and have him drive over me a dozen times.

But rejecting that as an option, I opted for my lovely hot tub in the castle keep instead. I needed some alone time. Something I’d barely had since I’d met Roman. Maybe while I soaked in heavenly bliss, I’d get flashbacks of what I’d done after the winery.

As I made my way down the curved stairwell, I hoped Count Frederik had drunk a bottle of whiskey for breakfast and was passed out somewhere well away from me.

Upon entering the tiny room, I sighed with content at the delightful aromas and the subtle lighting. Katrin was an absolute angel, and I made a mental note to buy something special to give to her on my next visit.

I slipped my shoulders beneath the warm water and sighed. So far, so good on the Frederik front. Closing my eyes, I prayed it would remain that way.

Barely two seconds later, I cursed at the sound of the door creaking open.Shit!

He didn’t loiter in the shadows this time. No. Count Frederik stepped forward, and my breath caught at how stunning he looked. He wore a white linen shirt that he’d unbuttoned to reveal his ripped abs. His hair was out, curling in waves to his shoulders. And he’d done a mighty fine job of a close-cropped beard that gave him a classy roguish appearance.

He inclined his head ever so slightly and the candlelightcaptured the intense green of his irises like he’d planned that move. “Hello, Daisy.”

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