Page 14 of Vicious Games

“Don’t touch her door,” he commanded.

The wide-eyed valet raised both palms up in a placating gesture as he backed away from my door.

Or perhaps not.

Taking advantage of Roman walking around the back of the car, I yanked on my hem, pulling it down as far as the delicate fabric would allow. My door opened. Roman held out his hand to assist me. I ignored it, preferring to use my left hand to steady myself on the door while my right held my purse over the top of my thighs, as if the small rectangle of shimmering champagne crystals would somehow make up for the lack of fabric. It was awkward as hell, and I managed to trip over my shoes in the process.

Roman’s protective hands wrapped around my hips before I could fall. The heat of his touch seared my skin through the thin silk and lace. I couldn’t help but lean into his strong frame, inhaling the spicy scent of his cologne as I did so.

His jaw rubbed against my hair as he whispered, “Careful, little one.”

My insides did backflips. I bit my lip to keep from moaning.

Once I was steady on my feet, Roman guided me to the restaurant entrance with a hand on my lower back. I was so caught up in him, I didn’t even notice where we were eating, nor did I care. I was sure I wouldn’t taste any of the food. I would be too distracted by sitting next to him.

The tuxedoed maître d’ greeted us warmly. “Good evening, Mr. Winterbourne. So nice to see you again. Shall I show you and your… guest to your table?”

My eyes widened.

It was just the slightest of pauses, the barest of glances. Any other man on the planet probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Roman wasn’t like all other men. There was no way the maître d’s brief glance at my body went unnoticed.

Roman’s hand flexed, then settled on my lower back. “Yes, Pierre.”

My legs felt like two wooden sticks as we were led through the dining room. I scanned the room like I was the Terminator, searching for any potential threat.

Please, please, please let no one look at us.

My nerves were teetering on a razor’s edge.

It was only when we were shown to a semi-private table in the back of the room that I finally allowed myself to breathe.

The moment they handed us the red leather and gold-embossed menus, I held mine open over my chest like a shield.

Our waiter came over and offered Roman the wine list. He declined.

I frowned. “You know I am allowed to drink.”

Although usually our age difference was a bit of a turn-on for me, there were definitely times when it was awkward, like now. I was sure there were people in the room judging us not only for my dress but for my age as well, compared to Roman’s mid-thirties. But hell, they were probably judging me as a possible murderess who got away with killing her parents, so there really was no winning.

The waiter paused, waiting to hear Roman’s response.

Roman waved him away with a shake of his head. He turned his dark eyes to me. “I prefer not to drink when I’m dining with you.”

I was stunned. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. He couldn’t possibly know what that small gesture meant to me. My mother and stepfather were at their worst when we dined out. Counting the martinis and glasses of alcohol they copiously consumed over each course had always put me on edge. It was no doubt the reason why I never really enjoyed dining in restaurants. I was always on the alert for their embarrassing, drunken behavior and could never enjoy myself.

Roman looked over the menu. “What looks good to you?”

I forced myself to focus on the delicious entrée options. “I can’t decide between the roasted duck breast with smoked fennel and apricot or the fillet of Hereford beef.”

Roman smiled. “I was thinking the same. How about you get the duck? I’ll get the beef and we can share.”

I nodded slowly.

What was happening? This was all sounding far too boyfriend-y. It was almost as if we were on a date, like an actual normal boy-meets-girl date.

When the waiter returned, Roman took my menu from me. I had clasped onto it and initially didn’t release it until he raised an eyebrow. Having lost my leather shield, I crossed my arms, trying not to look around the dining room.

“The lady will have the duck, medium, not too rare, please. I will have the fillet. Same temperature. We’ll also start with the raw oysters and finish with the cheese and fruit plate.”

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