Page 50 of Prelude To You

The embarrassment in my gaze was enough of an answer. My only response was to mentally detach from the situation.

I surveyed the hallway, wondering how many people had traveled through here, and if the walls could talk, what would they say? Was there romance, happiness, or misery soaked into them? Or was this hall strictly for migrating from one room to another?

When I looked up again, Roman was still watching me, and he seemed even closer than he was a second ago. He gently touched my cheek. “Now that you’re better, we can go back into the hotel and get on with our evening. Are you ready?”

My mortification wouldn’t subside. “This isn’t going very well is it?” I asked quietly.

“That depends on how you thought this was going to go.”

“Nothing like this.”

“I’m open to any suggestions as to how we can make this experience more tolerable for you, Isabel.” Suppressed amusement stained his tone.

“Okay, now you’re making fun of me.”

“I was, I couldn’t resist. Should I apologize for that? I will if you want me to.”

“Whatever makes your day,” I said tersely.

He lowered his head until his face was mere inches from mine. “I apologize, my sweet.”

It was as if he was testing my resolve, pushing me to react. Was he expecting me to melt and offer my lips for a kiss? I refused the bait. Even if the insatiable feeling gnawing my guts was parched for some tender loving care. Or not-so-tender. Preferably not tender at all.

Suddenly all the playfulness was wrenched from the air. Our eyes met, and it was a moment that could go either way. One way was that I could simply leave this place, forget this man and go on with my life. The other way was to surrender. But surrender to what exactly?

Roman’s expression became quizzical, a glimmer of worry in his eyes negating his confidence.Was he wondering if I would I break the spell he held over me and leave?I decided to put it to the test.

“I have a question for you,” I said. “If I should leave right now, would it make any difference to you in the slightest?”

His gaze penetrated mine, as if he was mulling over his answer. “Isabel, you can do exactly as you please, I’m not holding you hostage here.”

“That was not the question, Roman. Pay attention, please. I asked if it would make a difference to you if I left.”

He traced the lines of my mouth with his thumb. “Ah, there she is, the nymph of ire I met last night.”

Annoyance seeped through my pores. Annoyance at his need to control the narrative all the time. There was definitely room for some self-reflection later, I thought. I had my mother’s temperament, and there was nothing demure about it. Being bashful wasn’t my thing; yet here I was, blushing and wilting like a daisy in the desert at high noon.

I made one last-ditch effort to salvage what pride I had left. “You know what? This should have ended outside. That’s on me, but I’m going now. And again, thank you for the book, it’s wonderful. I’ll take the best care of it forever. Have yourself a great evening, Roman.”

For the second time tonight, I bid this man goodbye with every intention of leaving. And for the second time tonight, he held me back with a simple gesture. This time he curled his long fingers around my hand and gently pressed me against the wall.

“And if I don’t want you to go?” he asked, a challenging glint in his eyes.

“Then say it.”

“Say what, Isabel?”

“Then tell me you want me to stay.”

He contemplated me over the bridge of his perfect nose, his sensual mouth set in a firm line. He must have struck a bargain with himself because he smiled with untainted pleasure, as if knowing he had nothing to lose.

“I would love you to stay,” he said. Then added playfully, “And if you decide to stay, I will presume anything that happens tonight, happens because you want it to.”

I couldn’t figure out whether this was a way of swaying control over someone who was clearly enamored with him. “We’re going to an auction, Roman,” I teased, willing to play along. “What could possibly happen during an auction that I would object to?”

His fingers trailed up to my neck, where they lingered. “I think you’re more concerned about what mightnothappen, Isabel.”

“What makes you say that?”

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