Page 51 of Worth the Trouble

Pleasure and pain.

16

Lili

Rome’shouseisalabyrinth I could get lost in. While the main space is wide open with large windows that look out over the forest, the hallways seem endless. Bedrooms, bathrooms, rooms I’m not sure have a purpose. Every inch of it feeling like the man who designed it—unique.

The floors are polished concrete with large geometric rugs in the right places. Pictures scatter the walls, and they’re all artistic shots of guitars, instruments, and concerts. On one wall in the living room is a shot of an audience, and the frame is made from guitar picks.

I stop in front of it and stare at the faraway faces, wondering if this is what it’s like for Rome when he’s up on stage. Thousands of people watching him, screaming for him, crying for him. An energy unlike anything I’ve experienced on stage.

And I wonder if he feels freedom in their devotion or the weight of expectations.

“You like that one?” Rome asks from the kitchen.

I look over my shoulder and find him across the space with his back to me. He’s adding spices to whatever he’s cooking, and it’s such a normal thing it catches me off guard.

He turns to look at me and tips his chin to the image behind me.

“I do,” I say, looking at the picture once more. “It’s got a certain energy.”

“It’s a shot from our first tour.” He walks over, stopping behind me and planting his hands on my shoulders. “The first tour we headlined, anyway. A photographer for some magazine took this shot and blew it up for me. One of those moments you don’t want to forget, you know?”

I nod, knowing the feeling well. The first time you’re on stage and all eyes are on you. It’s unlike anything, a dream come true, and the pressure is terrifying.

“See that pick?” Rome points at a red one on the left side of the image. “That’s mine from the show that night.”

“I love it.”

Looking up at him, his face is lit in a way it rarely is. Brightness that shines light into his dark eyes. Music is to Rome what dance was once to me—like the air he breathes—his lifeforce.

He looks down and his eyebrows pinch. “What?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head, spinning in his arms, expecting him to let go, but he continues to hold onto me when we’re face to face. “I just love hearing you talk about your music. It’s inspiring.”

“You’re inspiring.” He drags his hands down until one latches onto my own, and he lifts my arm up to spin me in a circle.

I can’t help but laugh as I come to a stop in front of him, and he winks at me before releasing my hand.

“Back to breakfast before it burns.” He steps away, still facing me as he points in my direction. “Now who’s the distraction.”

“Me?” I plant my hand on my chest. “Never.”

He grins, shaking his head and walking back over to the stove. “Lies, sweetheart. Beautifully wicked lies.”

My chest flutters, but I’m quickly distracted by the deep growls coming from my stomach as I follow him into the kitchen and am overwhelmed with the smell of food. I can’t remember the last time I ate something that smelled nearly as decadent as this, and it makes me crave it more.

If Mom knew what I’m about to eat, she’d probably put me on an even worse diet. But I have no intention of telling her. Like all things with Rome, this feels like a secret between just the two of us.

I watch Rome mess with the food he’s cooking, looking built for sin, with every painted inch of his back and chest on display. Everything about him is forbidden and indulgent.

“You weren’t lying. You can cook.” I drop into one of the chairs at his kitchen table, and he turns his head just enough to smirk at me over his shoulder.

His gaze travels to my legs, which are on full display in short shorts and black fishnets. My outfit is out of place in the light of day, but I wasn’t expecting to still be here.

Dragging his stare back up my body, I feel the sun through the windows drawing out the blush on my cheeks. And I’m sure there’s no hiding what his look does to me.

“Told you I could.” He grins, turning back to the pan. “Results of limited options as a kid. It was either I learn how to cook or eat trash.”

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