I was one of the most privileged people in the world, but I could admit that at times it felt suffocating. That’s why my sporadic nights out with Alexandra were vital.
I hated to admit it, even to myself, but Rome was right to be angry with me last night. I did leave without him, or any security for that matter, which was an idiotic mistake. A mistake I couldn’t afford to make again.
As the hot water washed over my body, I shook off my self-pitying thoughts and focused on how I should apologize to Rome for my reckless actions last night. I didn’t want to apologize. There was a chance he would hold it over my head though—I had a feeling he was itching for the moment he would be right when it came to one of our disagreements.
I wasn’t positive why I was always arguing with him in the first place. There was just something about him that drove me absolutely wild, like he knew exactly how to push all of my buttons.
It was infuriating.Hewas infuriating.
I took a deep breath, unable to focus too heavily on how I felt about Rome. I didn’t have the time or energy today. I needed to get to the office before my dad or the rest of the board. They were already nitpicky about my performance, so I refused to give them any additional fuel to the fire. Luckily, I knew my routine like the back of my hand and was ready within an hour.
When I made my way out of my room, Rome was ready and waiting in the living room, a cup of coffee in his hand ready for me. His usual smirk made its appearance as he looked me up and down. “You look positively excited for the day.”
I flipped him off and snatched the coffee out of his hand. The warm, caramel latte he always got for me helped my pounding head just a bit.
“Where do you get these anyway?” I asked as I stepped into my shoes, balancing on one foot, and my coffee precariously perched in my spare hand. “There aren’t any good shops near me or the office. Honestly, this coffee is one of the main reasons you’re still employed.”
Rome steadied me with a hand on my elbow. “I make it, or one of my sisters does. Whoever is ready first in the morning makes coffee for everyone in the house.”
“Well, tell your sisters thank you for me,” I mumbled.
He smirked, which was automatically annoying. “What about me? I make it most of the time.”
“It would just go to your head,” I explained as I stood in front of Rome. Even in my stilettos, he was a head taller than me… which was rude. “Your ego is big enough as is. No need for me to stroke it.”
“You could stroke something else,” he joked with a wink.
I groaned and turned away from him, shrugging on my coat with his assistance.
Rome had a bad habit of making inappropriate jokes. They were decreasing with time, but I couldn’t reward his behavior with a reaction. I also couldn't let him see the small smile that his jokes often brought to my face.
“You know…” he started, as he glanced around my living room with a look in his eyes I couldn’t place. “You should really add, well… color to this place. You need color in your space, in your life.”
I tried my best not to glare at him, but it was impossible. “Why do you suddenly care about my interior decor?”
Was the majority of my apartment in various shades of black and wood tones? Yes. It was easier than having to decide on complementary colors.
“I don’t. It’s just that, after seeing your room last night, I realized nearly everything you own is black. The only colors inthis whole place are your eyes, and that red lipstick you insist on wearing. You need some extra color in your life. Findyourcolor, you know?” he explained.
I just stared at him, trying to decide if I was still drunk and hallucinating this conversation. “Wait, why were you in my room?”
Rome stared at me, probably trying to decide if I was serious.
“Are you serious?”
Look at that, I was right.
I nodded.
“Bec, you were black-out drunk. Did you really think you ended up tucked into your bed all on your own?” He asked incredulously.
I shrugged, “I am rather exceptional.”
He huffed a laugh and handed me my work purse, which I hadn’t seen him holding. “I hate to break it to you, but I not only carried you up here, and peeled off your shoes while you sang an incredible rendition of ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’. But, I also brushed out your hair after you got what I assumed—based on the smell—was a margarita in it. Any more questions?”
I stared at him as I tried to process everything he said. “You’re the one who braided my hair? How do you know how to do that?”
“I have five sisters, and growing up, my mom and step-dad would need help getting them all ready for school. I learned quickly,” he explained. He then checked his watch and said, “We need to get going if you wanna be to the office on time. I have more coffee waiting for you in the car.”
