He only said those two words, yet they held a whole lotta innuendo.
“Yes,” she said, defiant.
“Then why did your nose scrunch when you said it?”
Sadie’s cheeks felt flushed. “Seriously, is this about sex?”
“No.” Roman dropped his sunglasses back in place, loping back up the street. “It’s also about eating. What are we having for lunch?”
“If I have lunch with you, are you going to stop talking about having sex with me?”
“No.”
Sadie graduated at the top of her law class, won debates consistently, and was the queen of the comeback.
Yet, she had no witty response for Roman.
“I’m a Dvornakov. We bond over vodka and food. Usually at the same time. I’d like to bond with you.”
What on earth was she supposed to say to that?
They arrived at a four-story red brick building with a turnstile entrance and neat rows of potted plants lining the walkway—the kind so vibrant and flush with greenery that it must’ve taken a full gardening team to manage them. Already, the building was an improvement over hot pink with yellow polka dots and penis-cookies.
Roman opened the door, waited for Sadie to enter, and… Oh yes, this place was nice. A fountain trickled in the background of the atrium area. At the top of the stone centerpiece was a giant seashell pulsing water over a coral feature that poured into an oversized etched stone bowl, ending in a pool of blue water surrounded by a stone bench.
Which meant…
“This place is out of my budget.” It would continue to be until she brought on several partners, it seemed.
Roman slid his sunglasses on top of his head. “You don’t even know what the rent is.”
“There’s a big-ass fountain.” She gestured to the pennies, dimes, and even quarters scattered in the water.
“I figured that’s a selling point.”
“I’m not at the fountain stage of my revamped career.”
Her law firm in Chicago had a fountain like this in the foyer. She’d totally taken it for granted.
“Maybe I can help with that. Because, Sadie, you deserve fountains. Life should be fountains and wishes. You deserve all the wishes.” His thoughtful words pulled on her crumbs of hope.
Emotion clogged Sadie’s throat. “You really think that?”
She hadn’t had fountains in a long, long time. When was the last time she’d even taken the time to stop and make a wish?
“I do”—his deep voice went deeper—“think that.”
Roman had seen the worst of what people could do to each other. Worse than what she’d witnessed in the courtrooms of Chicago.
“How can you see what you’ve seen and still believe in fountains and wishes?” she asked.
“Because there has to be more than the bullshit of reality when some asshole is shooting at you.” He stared at his boots. “I’ve had that. Each second matters, Sadie. You can live your life recording moments for others behind the camera or managing them in a courtroom, but at some point, you have to take control for yourself.”
Oh.
“Why don’t you show me the office.” Sadie started toward the bank of elevators next to a staircase.
Roman followed, his hand in the space behind her back, not touching, but close.
