Page 19 of Vicious Games

Roman opened my door.

I stayed seated.

He held out his hand, palm up. He draped the blanket over his other arm. “Aurora?”

I stared at his hand. The hand that had given me both pleasure and pain. The metal band of what was probably an impossibly expensive watch was just visible beneath his crisp white shirt cuff with the sterling silver cufflinks in the shape of some kind of crest. Seeing no other option, I reached with my shaking hand and took his. His warm hand closed around mine and lifted me out of the car.

As I stood on the curb, casting an uncertain glance around me, Roman shook out the folded blanket and placed it over my shoulders. It was so long it dragged along the pavement.

“I’m fine. I have your jacket.”

Roman smirked. He tapped the end of my nose. “Humor me. I have no desire to break more arms this evening.”

My cheeks flamed. I lowered my head and hid behind a cascade of curls that covered my face.

Roman put a protective hand at my lower back and led me forward. In less than a block, we crossed into the chaos of Leicester Square. I had always loved this part of London. There was a hum and energy to it. It wasn’t as touristy and loud as Piccadilly Circus, but always had a bustle of people and street performers. I also loved the new installation of whimsical film statues.

He led me past Paddington Bear and Harry Potter over to the bronze statue of Gene Kelly from Singin’ in the Rain. Beneath the statue’s outstretched arm was a small fish and chips cart.

The heavyset man standing under the cheery hunter green and white awning called out a greeting to Roman. “Roman! How are you, my friend?”

Roman smiled warmly. The sight caught me by surprise. I blinked several times, trying to process what was happening.

Roman removed his hand from my back and shook the purveyor’s hand. “Good evening, Hamish. This is my girlfriend, Aurora.”

His girlfriend?

Seriously, what is happening?

Hamish bowed his head and smiled broadly. “I should have known a man like you would pick a beauty.”

Roman laughed as he unhooked his cufflinks and dropped them in his trouser pocket. He slowly rolled up his dress shirt sleeves, exposing his tanned forearms. “Two orders of your finest, Hamish.”

Hamish bowed a second time. “Coming right up!”

I raised a hand to touch the side of my head, feeling for a bump. Perhaps I’d banged my head harder than I thought back at the restaurant.

Hamish wrapped the piping hot order of breaded cod and chips with a flourish in wax paper printed to look like old newsprint. Roman handed him yet another fifty-pound note and nodded his thanks as he took both orders.

I clutched at the blanket wrapped over my shoulders as I followed Roman back to the wooden bench where a jolly statue of Paddington Bear sat eating a marmalade sandwich. Roman brushed off the seat with a napkin before gesturing for me to sit.

Roman sat beside me. He waited until I got settled before handing me my order. “Careful, it’s hot.”

I gingerly pinched my fingers over the end of the battered cod. Breaking off a piece, I popped it into my mouth. I opened my lips and breathed out steam as the bit burned my tongue.

Roman chuckled as he also broke off a piece. “I warned you.”

I closed my eyes as the salty, buttery taste melted in my mouth. “This tastes like heaven.”

“Best fish and chips in London.”

I nibbled on the end of a chip as I watched Roman eat another bite. I ate the rest of the chip and brushed the salt off my fingertips. “What’s happening?”

Roman shrugged. “Our dinner was interrupted.” He cast a sardonic glance in my direction. I raised my chin and ignored it. “So, I needed to feed you.”

I broke off another piece of cod and ate it, chewing slowly.

Roman leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs as he casually watched the passersby and ate.

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