I push myself up at my brother’s agitated words to find the other side of Roman’s bed empty. Grabbing his shirt from off the floor, I button it up around me and tip toe down the wooden floating stairs.
The front door is ajar but Roman’s bare back blocks the view, his checked pajama bottoms low on his hips.
“You need to leave, right now,” he snaps, his voice low.
“Why? So, you can go back to fucking my little sister?”
I wince. Mase is not being quiet and I’m endlessly grateful Roman doesn’t have any neighbors.
“You’re drunk. Lola is inside, sleeping. Now shut the fuck up before you say something you regret.”
I stare through the kitchen windows, debating whether or not to interrupt. It’s dark out, the sky like the winter sea. I can’t see properly from this angle, but I picture Mase on the porch, swaying on his feet as he rages at Roman.
Guilt cracks inside of me, the ache between my legs that I’d been all too happy to fall asleep to, reminding me just how badly I screwed up.
I don’t know how Mase found out, whether Dad mentioned it or whether word of Roman kissing me outside the shop yesterday traveled but either way we should have been more careful. I should have spoken to him first.
I ought to go out there now but my last interaction with drunk Mase has left me scarred so I hesitate, hanging back by the island and fiddling with the leaves on one of Roman’s many plants.
“She’s my sister, Roman. My fucking sister. And you’re supposed to be my best friend.”
“I get why you’re mad, but this isn’t some fling. Lola is everything to me.” Roman’s words wrap around me like a warm blanket. We’ve not had a chance to talk about where this is going but if it was up to me, he and I would be the stuff of fairytales. You know, the modern, Disney-fied version, not the original Grimm brothers’ stories where literal hearts get torn out of chests.
Except that’s exactly what it feels like when I hear what Mase says next.
“Oh yeah? Does she know you’re leaving?”
The leaf crumples in my fingers. Rushing waves fill my ears and I barely hear the rest of the conversation.
“You kept the job offer,” Mase says. “There I was looking for some fucking painkillers and instead I find out you’re going to work for your son of a bitch father.”
“Mase—” Roman starts but my brother cuts him off.
“Finally going to let him groom you, huh? Turn you into as much of a bastard as he is, although I guess if you’re sleeping with my sister, you’re already halfway there. Maybe you’ll hire her as your secretary, so you fuck her on the side.”
The door slams shut behind Roman and a crack precedes my brother’s grunt. I’m pretty sure Roman just punched him but I don’t have the capacity to care right now.
My feet take me to the drawer by the sink, and I pull it open. I’d be stupid to trust a word out of my brother’s mouth right now, but I don’t have to because it’s there in black and white.
Air sticks in my throat. The paper is smooth under my fingers. It’s the posh thick sort of stuff you only find in corporate offices and the salary at the top makes my head spin.
One million pounds per annum.
I turn around and let the contract slip out of my hand onto the island. The paper skids a little, stopping at an angle. I feel off-kilter just looking at it, but I can’t seem to look anywhere else.
No one sane turns down a starting salary of one million.
The front door clicks shut as Roman comes back inside but I still can’t take my eyes off the contract. How can a few pieces of paper have my foundations crumbling?
Roman stops inside the door, a heavy breath unsettling the silence. He approaches the end of the island like I’m a wild animal he doesn’t want to scare.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough,” I choke out. “Too much.”
“I’m not taking the job.” Roman’s voice is oak-solid and it’s almost enough to make me look at him.
“He’s offering you a million pounds, Roman. He’s your dad.”
