Page 62 of Prelude To You

“He was touching me, and I’m pretty particular about who I allow to touch me.”

Roman tilted his head in utter disbelief, his voice low with discontent. “Thenyouwere fired.”

I was curious why that seemed to upset him. I decided to hit him with thecoup de grace. “And blacklisted, if you can believe that.”

“Where was this?” he growled, and it could have been my imagination but his eyes had become blue sheets of ice.

His prying into my life released a warm feeling inside me. “I thought we weren’t getting into personal stuff."

And if that didn’t unshackle the cold hard vigilante hibernating in Roman. “Isabel, I can find out in two minutes which pastry chef was fired last night, believe me.”

“Okay, but why does it matter to you?” I asked, and drained the rest of my wine. Perhaps I wanted him to tell me more about himself before we delved into my life.

He seemed to be equally confused about why it bothered him. Then the well-worn mask of indifference slipped back on and he smiled casually, if unconvincingly. “Well, I can’t force you to tell me, and I won’t. Although it would give me the utmost pleasure to give those responsible for your firing a taste of their own medicine.”

“Well, thank you,” I said appreciatively. “It’s the thought that counts. But I also believe that what you reap you’ll sow. In a fair world, Karma will come into play.”

Roman poured us more wine, a little frown chasing across his eyebrows. “You really believe that? In Karma?”

“And you don’t?” I asked.

“Can’t say I’ve given it a second’s thought in my life.”

It felt like my civic duty to explain Karma to Roman and relieve him of his ignorance. I took a sip of wine, choosing my words. “Karma is cause and effect,” I said. “What you give out, you get back. In this life or the next.”

Roman leaned forward and reached for my hand, inspecting my fingers with an intensity reserved for the diamond dealers at the Antwerp Exchange. “I don’t feel comfortable with you relying on Karma to deal with the people responsible for you getting fired.”

“I’m not relying on Karma to deal with them, Roman. It’s just a faint comfort that they might get what they deserve.”

“Isabel, you take them to court. That’s what you do.”

My sigh bounced off the walls. Roman meant well, even if he was being a little unrealistic. “Maybe you’re in a position to fight someone like this in court. But people like me, not so much. Can we please move on from this?”

“Of course,” he said, pursing his lips. “Consider us moved on.” He kissed my hand again. “Are you at least happy in your new job?” he asked.

“Yes, I think I will be,” I said, trying to once again ignore the smoldering fire this man kindled beneath my skin. “It’s a great job. It’s a bit weird, but I’m okay with a bit weird. It won’t last forever. But it pays well and I’m lucky to get another job so soon. It was a complete fluke to tell you the truth.”

“Pastry chef?” he asked, as if he hadn’t made a rule about personal queries a few minutes ago.

“I wish. No, it’s something completely different. But I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

Roman issued a soothing smile. “Then we won’t talk about it.”

“The whole point here is, if I hadn’t been fired, I wouldn’t have gone to the bookshop. And I wouldn’t be sitting here. And I wouldn’t be obsessing about the things I want some stranger to do to me.”

He dragged his thumb over my forearm, causing a field of goosebumps to blossom all over the place. “I thought we’d established that we’re not strangers anymore.”

“It’s just a figure of speech.”

“Maybe you should tell me about these things you want me to do to you.”

For a second I considered putting my foot back in his lap, but I restrained myself. “Oh, I think you already have a pretty good grasp,” I said, my voice a little ragged. “If the rendezvous in the dingy hallway was any indication of your magical skills.”

His gaze drifted over me. “Right back at you. There is that kiss of all kisses.”

The lightness in his tone didn’t match the ardent desire in his eyes. It was hard to figure out how much was sincere and how much was play, which caused my insecurity to idle just below the skin. “Can I ask you a question?” His fingers continued to create unspeakable sensations that skittered across my arm.

“You can ask me anything, Isabel.”

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