Page 84 of Prelude To You

“Kayla…?” I asked offhandedly.

“My personal assistant at night. I’ll ask her right now. Give me a second please.”

I curiously watched this man who’d thrown my insides into disarray, as he called his night assistant, who picked up in less than a second.

“Kayla, where do I find the room service menu?” he asked in a modulated tone.

She knew without any explanation that he was in the penthouse. So this was who he’d called downstairs, when in my weakest moment I agreed to spend the night with him. No doubt she was paid handsomely to be at his beck and call. I couldn’t help wondering what she looked like, and if making his life easy included the occasional foot massage.

Oh my God, stop it!How did I switch off the part of me that was so adamant to let my frustration flourish until I’d crushed every possibility of having a pleasant time?

This felt like a dead end and the hopelessness of it all strangled my ability to ease my resentment. When I made a mistake with a dance step, I’d set my frustration aside and practice until I perfected it. Why couldn’t I do the same here? Why couldn’t I push my emotions aside and just enjoy the only night I’d ever have with Roman?

His voice yanked me back to the present. “Someone will bring us a custom dinner menu shortly,” he said, like a man who knew how to get things done. “You seem to be having a conversation with yourself.”

I’m trying to keep it together here if you don’t mind.

“Just thinking,” I said, which was not far from the truth, but a safe distance from it. I was at the bargaining-with-myself stage of trying to solve my quandary. Did I really want to go through life regretting that I’d missed this opportunity to be swept off my feet for one night? Here, by Roman? Even if I would never see him again?

“Do you mind if I take my jacket off?” he asked.

What a gentleman.I smiled. “I’d feel insulted if you didn’t… Would you mind if I took off my shoes? My feet are killing me.”

“I could take them off for you,” he suggested casually, “since I’m the one who put them on. Twice, if I recall correctly.”

“All yours,” I breathed, and sank into the enormous velvet couch beside the windows with the spectacular view.

I watched him remove his jacket. This was the second time I’d seen him without a jacket, and my eyes glazed over once more. Good grief, what a delectable man he was. But what really made my insides swirl with desire was the way he secured the jacket on a hanger and carefully hung it inside the closet. He was very focused, every move clean and deliberate.

“You’re very disciplined, aren’t you Roman?” I asked.

He turned to me with a smile but took his time in answering. “I can be.”

Before I knew it he was in front of me, bending down. Gently lifting my right leg and removing my shoe. Then his hand curled around my left calf. He took his time removing the shoe, as if handling something very delicate.

Just his touch sent rivulets of yearning skimming my insides. His hand remained in place for a few seconds longer than itneeded to. Then he took my pair of fake Louboutins and neatly placed them in the closet where his jacket was. There was something so intimate in that gesture.

What was going through his mind? Was he thinking of work, or was he thinking of all the inconceivable things he could do to me on that king-sized bed?

He returned with a cool smile. “There you go, my sweet.”

My sweet. There he goes again.

Every time he used that endearment he chipped away at my resolve. I bit my bottom lip until it hurt. This was fucking excruciating, not being able to hand myself over to him on a silver platter, for him to do whatever he wanted with me. I was so very close to just saying damn it all, I’ll worry about it tomorrow.

Roman tenderly put his thumb on my mouth. “Don’t do that, you’re hurting yourself.”

His words soothed me, like cool water over burning skin. As I had a few hours before, I caught the tip of his thumb between my teeth and molded my lips around it, gently sucking on it. His breath hitched. Our eyes locked, a question in his gaze. And at the very moment when I was about to commit to finally being ravished by him, we were interrupted by a soft persistent beep.

“The menu is here,” Roman said, reluctantly extracting his thumb from my mouth. He quickly put distance between us, and combed his fingers through his hair. Then he quietly and efficiently collected himself and went to the elevator, pressing a button. The doors whooshed opened, and I assumed someone handed him a menu.

“Thank you, Charlie,” I heard Roman say.

This was my opportunity to dash to the bathroom and try and pull myself together. Once inside I closed the door and leaned against it, catching my breath. The cold tiles under my bare feet didn’t help a stitch to cool me down.

I splashed my face and throat with ice-cold water and stared at myself in the mirror. Someone I didn’t recognize stared back at me. I was drained from fighting this. I closed my eyes and tried to shut it all out.The more difficult it became to stay, the more difficult it was to simply leave.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Isabel…are you okay?” he asked.

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