To Violet’s delight, Roman seemed annoyed. “Please don’t invite her to come with us,” she whispered to herself, but not low enough because Roman’s large hand found her chin and pinned her with a heated stare.
“I would never let anyone encroach on our time at the pleasure house,” he avowed. “Never.”
For years, the pleasure house had been their thing, even when they never spoke about it aloud. After seeing him there two or three times, Violet went on the same day, at the same time, every week, hoping he’d be there too. At the time, there was nothing romantic to it, but it had been nice to know someone she knew and respected had the samespecialinterestsas her.
Lately, it felt likemore. She wasn’t ready to date again, and even if she was, Violet didn’t know what came next for Roman. Would the gods give him a new mate? Would he get to choose?Would he choose me?
Other than his extreme protectiveness, he gave no indication that he wanted her. That could just be him wanting to protect a friend.Hedidget jealous just now, a little voice reminded her.But he refused to discuss Vivian, said he didn’t care where she was or what she was doing, but Violet wondered if he masked his hurt.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Marissa said once she’d joined them on their side of the street.
Roman tensed. “Why?”
Marissa looked hurt at Roman’s curt tone. “I bought tickets to your favorite play at the theater tonight. It’s opening night, and I thought we could go.”
Roman softened, and Violet hid her surprise.Roman has a favorite play?Why didn’t she know about it? As much as Violet disliked Marissa, she didn’t want to keep Roman from seeing something he enjoyed since he enjoyed so little.
“We can go there instead,” Violet offered. “I can buy a ticket when we arrive.”
“They’re sold out,” Marissa said apologetically. “If I’d known he’d be with you, I would have bought three.”
Roman dug into one of his pockets and pulled out a few coins. “To cover the tickets. I appreciate the offer, but Violet and I have plans.”
Violet feigned interest at the shop window behind them to hide her smile. It was nice to be chosen for once.
* * *
“Are you jealous of Marissa, princess?” Roman murmured in Violet’s ear after they took their seats side by side at the pleasure house.
Roman took note of the chills cascading across her neck. What he wouldn’t give to suck the delicate skin into his mouth, see how long he could keep the small bumps on her skin.
“I’m not jealous.”
Roman grinned, his mouth still next to her ear. “Liar. Did you think I didn’t notice your cute little smile when I turned her down.”
She lifted a delicate shoulder. “I won’t speak ill of your friend.”
Interesting. “Being jealous of someone does not equate to insult. Do you not like Marissa?” He’d never speak to the woman again if she’d upset his future wife.
Violet paused before waving him off. “She’s fine. I just didn’t want to cancel our plans.”
Roman cursed the dim lighting preventing him from seeing whether she spoke the truth or not. There were few secrets between them. Why would she lie now? “I would let nothing keep me from watching you rub your pretty little thighs together.” He should pull back, lest he send her running, but her jealousy had him on a high. “Tell me, princess, are they slippery?”
Violet’s breathing picked up, and she adjusted herself in her seat. “We aren’t supposed to discuss the pleasure house.” Her throaty voice went straight to his cock.
All he wanted was to run his hand up her thigh and see for himself. Would she let him? Was it too soon? Did she still love Titus after what he’d done?
He leaned down and softly kissed her neck. “One day I’ll change your mind and hear every dirty thought you have.”
The hand she held nearest him twitched, and she fidgeted again, murmuring, “One day.”
* * *
Two days later, Violet hurried down her porch steps to head to work. “Of all the days to be late,” she muttered to herself. She’d overslept and was late meeting with a new client who wanted a custom wedding dress.
Hanging on her post box was a sloppy flower crown full of bright purple flowers. She grinned, the gift from her tiny neighbor lifting her mood. He’d been leaving her random flower crowns for the past two years. When she’d see him coming or going with his mother, she’d wave and thank him for the pretty crown. The boy always nodded and left in a hurry with red-stained cheeks.
After plucking it off the box, she situated it on her head and bounded down the stairs but came to an abrupt halt, groaning. An obscene number of workers lined the streets, ripping up the cobblestone. There was a narrow walkway on each side, and when she got closer to town, more people were trying to squeeze into the small space to get where they were going.
