Page 105 of Prelude To You

A lump was stuck in my throat. I would not release any tears until I got home, where I’d be safe from snooping stares. I didn’t need word getting back to Roman that I was this wretched mess. Let him think I was fine.

Giving back the cameo was my fuck-you to him, even if I regretted it now. I would have found a safe place for it, and no one ever would have known. A tear slid down my cheek, and Iwiped it away as quickly as I could. For the rest of the journey I barely breathed, afraid I would fall apart at any moment.

Roman needed to know that this one, he couldn’t break.

27

ROMAN

She looked so delicate and unbelievably beautiful in that big bed, her hair a heap of golden-brown silk on the white pillow.

Not that there was anything too delicate about Isabel. The fierce dancer’s body that writhed so gracefully when my tongue grazed her inner thighs. Those dancer’s legs wrapped around me, her gasping whimpers when I entered her, and those breathless French whispers when I was inside of her, doing exactly what she wanted me to.

There was definitely nothing delicate about Isabel when it came to what she needed from me. And there was nothing modest in my fearless dedication to providing her with all the pleasure I could.

But all that was over now. Everything would get back to normal. My life would pick up where I’d abandoned it two nights ago. It would all go on as if none of this ever happened. And if I kept telling myself that, soon I might even believe it.

My only solace was the chance that, at some point in the distant future, I might be able to see her again. I refused toentertain the thought that she would simply move on and live her life without me.

The gift bag went on the pillow because I knew the first thing she’d do was feel for me beside her. And then she’d find it. I would have liked to see her surprise. In the short time I’d come to know her, I knew it would bring her to tears.

Writing the note took me longer than it should have. I wanted to tell her how very new all of this was to me. That I’d never before hesitated to leave the bedside of a woman, and that I usually couldn’t leave soon enough. Tonight I wanted to stay. As a matter of fact, I never wanted to leave.

Most of all I wanted to tell her how sorry I was that this extraordinary feeling she experienced for the first time in her life was with me, because I was the one man who couldn’t give her what she deserved.

The black cashmere coat was hanging just outside the elevator, delivered quietly and efficiently. I didn’t want Isabel to be cold for even a fraction of a second when she stepped outside the hotel. Besides, I could only imagine how lovely it would be on her. I hung it in the closet for her to find after Kayla’s call.

I took the long way home because I needed to think. When I stepped into my office, it would all be so final, and I’d have to get back to life as I knew it. I asked hotel security to provide me with a camera feed of the foyer. I needed to see her one more time, and make sure she was okay.

My office was cold, and I made a fire in the fireplace. As promised, the goose-feather quill found its way onto my desk, where I’d see it every day. I wondered if, twenty years from now, the quill would hold the same meaning for me that it did right now.

“Today, you’d be writing with a quill made of a swan feather, and I’d be scribbling with one made of a goose feather.”

Isabel’s words buried themselves deep inside me, the greater meaning behind them undeniable. If life had given me a goose feather quill, I would still be in that bed with her in my arms. And we’d be talking about our future, and how lucky we were to have found each other in this mad, unpredictable world.

There was no hope of sleeping tonight, and as it was I had some things to catch up on. Like the damn merger begging for my attention. But I’d wait until she was safely on her way home before burying myself in work for the rest of the night.

I poured a Glenmorangie Signet and displayed the foyer’s camera feeds on a big screen. It was 2 AM, the time I set for her to wake up. There was a dull, persistent ache inside me that wouldn’t go away. I hoped that seeing her one last time might help this feeling of emptiness dissipate as the days went on.

By 2.15 I was ready to call Kayla to see if everything was okay with Isabel. Then the penthouse elevators opened up and out stepped Isabel.

I wasn’t prepared for the feeling of affection surging through me. She was so incredibly pale, and she looked fragile. Waking up alone after the night we had must have come as a shock to her. But if I’d been there when she woke up, neither one of us would have left any time soon.

She stood still in the middle of the foyer, and looked around herself. I didn’t have to wonder what she was doing, because I did the same thing, imagining our night from beginning to end, right there in the hotel foyer.

I noticed she didn’t have the gift bag with her. Perhaps she’d forgotten it. I’d call Kayla later and have her deliver it to Isabel. Kayla already had her address. I was reluctant to ask for it because I didn’t trust myself not to abuse the knowledge.

When Isabel walked out the hotel’s front door, I stared at the empty foyer, that dull ache not so dull anymore. A few minuteslater, Kayla called and said Isabel was in the car and on her way home.

I threw back the Glenmorangie Signet, not the least gentlemanly thing I’d done tonight. And switched off the feed. Every moment of this night was forever seared in my mind. And for the first time in my life, I hated being Roman Belmont with every fiber of my being.

It was less than an hour later when Steven sauntered into my office. He held Isabel’s gift bag, and I didn’t want to consider the reason why. There was an aura of smugness about him that grated on my nerves. I felt a fit of rage ignite inside me.

“What the hell are you doing with that bag?” I asked.

“She didn’t want it, said something to the effect that it was not exactly practical considering her lifestyle. Which made sense, I had to agree. She has pluck, I can see why you wanted to spend time with her. But now it’s over, and we’re all good.”

My initial shock turned to cold fury. My voice was spiked with agony. “Jesus Christ, tell me you didn’t go to the penthouse tonight.”

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