Page 89 of Prelude To You

I drained my glass until the last drop rolled over my tongue and slid down my throat. All the while thinking how I might explain that I dreaded waking up the next morning, knowing I’d never see him again.

“Ever since the kiss in the bookshop,” I said, “I’ve thought of little else but you. And I don’t understand this feeling because I’ve never experienced it before. I’ve never known the kind of pleasure I feel when you touch me, when you kiss me, or even when I’m just standing close to you. And it’s wholly terrifying to think I might never feel this again. I don’t understand your situation and I don’t comprehend what it could possibly mean. Or why two people who are so attracted to each other can’t just see where things go. I wanted this night to last forever, but in trying to manage this relentless frustration I keep messing up what could have been a really nice time with you. And I don’t even know where to start telling you how sorry I am…”

Nina Simone was still singing about love and loss and the possibility of a beautiful life if you just opened your eyes and looked around.

Roman finished the rest of his whiskey and placed our empty glasses on the counter like he was playing for time. When he spoke again, he sounded like a man steeling himself against what he was about to confess.

“The reason I’m telling you this is not because I want to make empty excuses. I want you to have a better understanding of my situation… My family’s business comes with overwhelming obligations. There is no escape from it, ever. I was groomed my entire life to take the reins of that business. It’s stringent and monotonous, but it’s all I know. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

His blue eyes became dark pools of despair. “My life and what I do with it have already been decided for me. I’ve always done my best to honor my obligations, and there’s been no roomfor defying my duties. You’re a very unexpected, effervescent light in an otherwise pretty dull existence, and you deserve more than I can offer you.”

I winced. It all sounded confounding and very unfair. He continued, his voice filled with genuine misery.

“Please don’t see it as rejection because it’s not, Isabel. If my situation ever changes, I’ll find you, because I don’t want to believe this ends here. I made you a promise tonight. And I’ll keep that promise. But you need to realize I’m not made of steel. And you won’t be the only one suffering in the days to come. The time I spend with you tonight will be a memory that needs to last me for a long time, because this feeling I have belongs to us, and I don’t expect to feel it again with anyone else.”

Everything slowed down. The pain and frustration I’d been feeling suddenly melted into an inconsequential pool of nothingness. I couldn’t even fathom how much that took for Roman to say.

The soft persistent beep broke the spell.

Roman collected himself and smiled. Always the gentleman. “That must be dinner. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course.” For the first time I felt a kind of peace come over me, like a comforting blanket. I knew this man had just revealed more about himself to me than he ever thought he would. And for some reason, that was all it took to calm me down.

Roman stepped toward the elevator, forever in charge. At that very moment, every other thought fled my mind. What thoughts remained were dedicated to imagining what Roman and I were going to do on that king-sized bed.

23

ROMAN

Iwas a man relieved of a burden. Although saying it out loud made my life seem more surreal and absurd. I’d never felt the tiniest of inkling to bare my soul to anyone. But Isabel wasn’t just anyone. Not that I was going to change overnight, into a man suddenly in touch with his feelings. Not by a long shot. But she was the one person I needed to explain this to.

I’d known her for two days. If you’d asked me two days ago if I thought someone could change the way I see the world, my answer would have been an emphatic no.

I opened the elevator. Charlie, who came on duty whenever I stayed at the penthouse, wheeled in a table with food and a chilled bottle of Laurent-Perrier Grand Siècle.

“Thank you, Charlie. Please go home. I can handle it from here.”

“Thank you, sir. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He left. I tested the champagne to ensure it was chilled to perfection. “Where would you like to eat, Isabel?” I asked, and turned back to the living room. But Isabel wasn’t there. Thinkingshe’d stepped into the bathroom, I opened the champagne and was about to pour when—

“Oh, I don’t know Roman, we can eat anywhere you like.”

When I swung around I was met with a dazzling beauty leaning casually against the wall, shrouded in a prism of light. Wearing nothing but a pair of silk panties and a sultry glint in her eyes.

She lingered until I’d taken all of her in, and then strolled over to the food, a ravishing sensation in motion.

Her fingers trailed down the bottle of Laurent-Perrier Grand Siècle. She eloquently lifted it to her mouth with both hands and guzzled a few greedy sips, then glided around the food cart, lifting silver domes and inspecting the loot.

She dipped her fingers into a bowl oftagliolinipasta with butter sauce and white truffles, of which she gulped up a few ribbons at a time, a couple of stray drops dripping from her mouth onto her breasts.

She wiped the sauce from her chest with a finger and unceremoniously licked it off with a twirling tongue. Then made a show of sucking her fingers clean, one by one.

It was fucking spectacular, and if I thought it was impossible for me to get any harder, I was wrong, oh so very wrong. I had to lean against the dining table to relieve the pressure in my pants.

“You’ve missed a few spots, my sweet,” I said, absolutely entranced.

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