Page 74 of Prelude To You

Cassie might have winced at that, but blueblood that she was, she hid it behind a warm smile and steely eyes.

Roman never let his gaze slip from mine. “Cassandra stole Apollo’s heart, and then broke it,” he said.

“You’re taking Apollo’s side?” I asked curtly. “I mean you know the story, right?”

Cassie gritted her teeth in a classy way. “Perhaps someone can tell me what we’re talking about here.”

I volunteered. “Because Apollo was so in love with Cassandra, he offered her the gift of predicting the future if she gave herself to him, a deal which she accepted. But once she hadthe gift she refused his advances. And being the mercurial god he was, he cursed her so that even though all her predictions were true, no one would believe them.”

“That’s one version,” Roman said, and the way he looked at me unleashed a kaleidoscope of memories from our scorching history.

I bit a smile. “Let me guess, you prefer a version where Apollo doesn’t behave like a ruthless spoiled brat?”

“Cassandra made a deal with him, and she broke that deal,” Roman countered, a feather-light smile grazing his lips.

“The only other version,” I said, “is that Apollo came to Cassandra in her sleep and started getting handsy. And when she said no, guess what, he still cursed her.”

“Oh my God, that guy sounds like a total jerk,” Cassie muttered, clearly feeling like an outsider in this exchange.

Did she even know who Apollo was? Not that she needed to.

I smiled at her, drawing her back into the conversation. “Either way, the name Cassandra suits you, you’re gorgeous.”

Any other woman would beam at the compliment, but Cassie was clearly used to being admired. She accepted the praise with another inspection of me, and this time her gaze paused on my shoes. There was no doubt she knew they were fake Louboutins, but she smiled sweetly and added perfunctorily, “You’re lovely too, Isabel.”

Roman remained the picture of serenity as he turned his attention to Cassie. “Are you here for the wedding?”

“Yes!” Cassie said. “If you weren’t busy I would have begged you to come save me. Not that it’s too late. The whole thing is simply wretched. I needed to get out of there for a while. That’s why I came here. But it’s a pretty boring auction. Guess I’d better get back before Daddy sends out a search party. At least now you know where to find me if you dare.”

Could she not see me standing here?

She put a cool, perfectly manicured hand on my arm. “It was nice meeting you, Isabel.”

I smiled, hating her for being so nice. “It was great meeting you too, Cassandra.”

Then she put her hand around Roman’s fingers, gave him somewhat of a lingering kiss on the cheek and said in a low voice, “I’ll be here at least until midnight.”

Again, was I fucking invisible?

Resentment bubbled up inside me. She obviously viewed me as a willing participant in Roman’s one-night going rogue. I guess telling him to find her later was just par for the course. No one seemed to expect Roman’s affairs to last longer than an hour, let alone an entire night.

Especially not with someone wearing fake Louboutins.

Roman watched me watch Cassie saunter off. When I met his gaze, his face was inscrutable.

“It seems you won’t be alone tonight after all,” I said. “Cassandra did say it was never too late to save her from thatwretchedwedding. You have until midnight.”

He laughed. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant laugh. More one that concealed something deeper he was feeling. Tension stained his tone. “Do you really think I’d do that? I mean, do you?”

“Like I said before, I don’t know you well enough. But Cassie seems lovely. More your type, and it doesn’t look like you’ll have a hard time convincing her to go to the penthouse.”

Frustration leaked through Roman’s otherwise stalwart composure. “If you believe I could do that, then I’ll assume it’s because you’ll be rushing into the Russian’s adoring arms after you’re done with me here.”

Our gazes locked, and I knew that whatever I said next could end this evening right now. Unshackle us both from a mutual adulation that seemed to have imprisoned us in this bubblewhere only he and I existed. I could say something scathing and horrible and make him hate me and never want to see me again.

And then I could go home, perhaps a little heartbroken but still with the chance to get over it. Because every minute I stayed made those shackles tighter and more difficult to break.

But I didn’t do that. I simply couldn’t say something hateful to Roman.

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