Page 75 of Prelude To You

The despair that settled in his eyes told me more than he could ever relate to me in words.

I reached up to his face and touched his cheek. “You’d assume wrong,” I said softly.

He scraped me closer to him, his face in my hair. “That goes both ways, my sweet. Both ways.”

His hand involuntarily found its base in the small of my back. Those strong fingers burning my skin through the thin silk, making my insides flood with want. As hard as I tried not to let it happen, it did. The shiver his touch triggered, gliding up and down my spine, only to settle right back under his fingers.

He carefully took a stray tendril of my hair and brushed it behind my ear, while his lips grazed my cheek. “My beautiful Isabel.”

When I glanced up I saw Cassandra standing in the doorway, watching us. Our exchange was brief, her pedigree no allowing one iota of defeat to show. But it couldn’t hide the flash of envy in her eyes.

I wanted to tell her that the moment I left, Roman would be all hers again. And that my fake Louboutins had no place in his world. Then I realized she probably already knew that.

Roman followed my gaze, but by then Cassandra was gone.

“Let’s go take a look at the items on auction,” he said evenly. “If you get bored, tell me. I’m donating to the charity anyway.”

“I won’t get bored,” I said sincerely. “There’s a lot of love locked in those glass cases. I’m curious.”

We walked the length of the room, moving up and down the rows of tables. An ancient quill pen caught his attention, and it was quite something to see his fascination with this artifact.

It was the only time Roman’s hand wasn’t on my back, and he seemed to be quite taken by the quill. For a fleeting moment I imagined being able to buy it and surprise him for his birthday, or Christmas.

“What do you know about quill pens?” I asked.

He smiled. “Why do I have a feeling you’re about to tell me all about them.”

“Only if you want me to.”

“Please do.”

And as he assessed the pen in the case, I told him what I knew. “Before the sixth century, the hollow reed pen was used to write with. Then the quill pen was invented in Seville, Spain. The grand quill pens were made from swan feathers, while goose feathers were used for common quill pens. During medieval times, quill pens were popular because they were so compatible with parchment and vellum. Today you’d be writing with a swan feather quill, and I’d be scribbling with one made from a goose feather.”

Roman chuckled at the last comment. He abandoned his examination of the quill pen, his hand sliding into its usual spot on my back and his gaze pinned to mine. “Do you even realize how incredible you are?”

Of course the goddamn shiver decided to make an encore. I knew he felt it because he kissed the spot on the nape of my neck that naturally made me squirm.

“This quill pen is made from a goose feather,” he said. “I’m getting it and you will forever be the reason why I did. And it will be on my desk for as long as I live.”

My breath hitched. Was he seriously just saying these things to work me into a frenzy of lust so I’d go to the penthouse withhim? But as I met his gaze, I thought he might mean every word he said.

My inside voice was screaming at me to find a way out of this mess. I shouldn’t have shoved the pastry in that sleazebag’s face. All I had to do was step away and politely refuse his advances... I should have waited for another Uber… I should never have gone to the bookshop.

Unless I could discover some way to turn back time, I was completely and utterly screwed. And not in a good way. All I could think was that I needed to leave and put this evening behind me. The longer I stayed, the deeper Roman would be burned into my soul.

I watched him scribble an amount on the bidding sheet that would pay my rent for a few years. He was going to get that ancient quill at any cost.

“Are you sure you really want that quill?” I teased.

He turned me to him. “When I want something, I do what it takes to get it, and that includes no one touching my bid.”

“Aren’t you the luckiest guy to be able to do that?”

Roman’s mouth quirked into a stung smile. “Perhaps it’s just my imagination, but I think there’s a slight buried somewhere in that remark.”

“A simple observation.”

“Nothing you ever say is simple,” he said, that smile of his dissolving into a plea. “Why don’t we go and get another drink? This can’t be the most exciting thing for you to do.”

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