Page 103 of Prelude To You

I put the small gift bag holding the cameo on the table. “Speaking of which… If you could return this to him, I’d appreciate it.”

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “That doesn’t seem very grateful, now does it?”

“I would go more with being practical,” I said. “What am I going to do with a $36,000 cameo? Wear it to the fancy soirees we have at our local YMCA?”

“It was $110,000, according to the receipt.”

My mouth almost fell open. But I kept my surprise carefully hidden inside. I remember Roman saying that when he wanted something, he did what it took to get it.

“So you knew about this?” I asked him.

“What do you think?” he asked. “I’m the one who made sure he had protection for what seemed like a promising evening of fun for you both.”

A wave of resentment rushed over me. “Well, that was pointless. We didn’t use any protection.”

I blurted that out without thinking, instinctively knowing it might cause Roman some trouble. And after the spectacular night ending with this troll in my face, my revenge was bittersweet, if not entirely necessary.

Steven’s cold and calculating expression changed in an instant, a trace of fear seeping into his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Steven stepped closer. “Do you have any idea who you’re fucking with?”

“That part is over. And if I never see Roman again, that would be too soon.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know.”

As I walked to the elevator, tears pooled in my eyes, despite me desperately trying to bite them back.

“Wait,” Steven commanded.

I swung around. “What now?”

“You can’t go out there crying. People saw you with Roman earlier. It won’t leave a good impression.”

“Oh my God, like I give a subatomic particle of a fuck.”

For a second it seemed that Steven was on the verge of the tiniest of smiles. Or whatever constituted a smile for him. “I really don’t care if you give a subatomic particle of a fuck, but you’ll stay here until you’re more in control of your emotions. This wasn’t a prom date that didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to. It was a few hours of sex between two consenting adults.”

A few hours of sex between two consenting adults.

He had to say that out loud and twist the knife even deeper. It was a fragmented moment where my thoughts were tumbling over each other, and I couldn’t think straight. Either Roman was the actor of the century, or this viper was a broken creature who needed to grab himself a new life as soon as possible. I wanted to believe it was the latter.

The only way I could defend myself was by lashing out. “Just imagine, Steven. Of all the things you could have done with your life, this is what you chose to do. Hunt down your boss’ one-night stands and make them feel subhuman and unworthy. You must be so proud of yourself.”

He issued me a thick-skinned smirk. “Well, I see your tears have dried. You know there’s a car taking you home, correct?”

“Yes I do. Thank you.”

“Well chop-chop, you don’t want to keep the driver waiting.”

I was already walking away, but I turned briefly at the elevator.

“One more thing. The next time your boss so generously drags you to his Savile Row tailor for a bespoke suit, pick a lighter gray. This shade makes you look like a funeral director. Unless that was the goal, in which case congrats, mission accomplished.”

I didn’t see his reaction and I didn’t care. When the doors of the elevator closed, tears blurred my vision. This time I held them back with everything I had in me. This wasn’t the time to cry over Roman. Not yet. But the tears would come eventually, that I knew. In less than eight hours my world had turned upside-down, and I had absolutely no one but myself to blame.

My reflection in the elevator’s mirror echoed the despair inside. Gone were the flushed cheeks and after-sex glow. And despite my efforts, my hair still had that messy, delicious sex-for-hours look. I could still feel Roman’s long fingers weaving through my hair, gently pulling my head back so he could watch my face as I came.

---