Page 21 of Saved By the Billionaire

“You’ve moved some young Australian girl into your guest room because why?”

“She’s not that young,” he said, as he realised for the first time that there was, in fact, an age gap between them. Yet, it never felt like it. Kate seemed older, and wiser, than her years. Protective and wary in ways that developed in someone who’d seen a lot. Roman knew, because he, Tia and Grace had been the same. “And she’s not living with me. I didn’t move her in.” Didn’t you?

“What happened to her leg?”

“Ankle,” he amended. “She sprained it. Badly.” He knew he sounded defensive. It was very un-Roman. He took in a breath. “She was being attacked. I came across them and stopped it, brought her here. She has nowhere else to go.”

Tia’s gaze stayed locked to his face, scepticism in her features. “I didn’t know damsel-in-distress was your kink.”

“It’s not like that,” he said, swiftly, reaching for his bowl and a fork. “I’m helping her. She has no one else.”

“Like Grace,” Tia prompted, gently now.

“Grace had us.” A familiar surge of anger fired in his belly. Hadn’t Grace understood what she meant to him? He would have moved heaven and earth for her, he would have done whatever it took to save her.

“And now Kate has you.”

He didn’t want to dig deeper into what Tia was saying, but he didn’t have to. A moment later, she queried him gently, “And this has nothing to do with the fact the anniversary of Grace’s death is in a few days?”

His body tightened with a familiar throb of grief. “It won’t bring her back you know. You can save as many vulnerable women as you want, Grace still won’t be here.”

He closed his eyes on the reality of that. “I know.”

“Kate’s not Grace.”

His eyes burst open, latching to hers. “I know that, too, believe me.” There was nothing remotely fraternal about how Kate made him feel. Not only did she look nothing like his sister, she didn’t act like her either. “Grace was her own person, and so is Kate.”

“But you’re doing all this for Kate because of what happened for Grace. Because you weren’t there for her.”

“No one was there for her.”

Tia’s expression was pinched. “I was in Japan, you know that⁠—”

He swore. “I wasn’t meaning you. I just mean…” he dragged a hand through his hair. “She was alone. I wish⁠—”

“I wish, too.” She reached out and put her hand on his. “But it’s not going to change the past.” Tia’s eyes were filmed with moisture. “God, I miss her.”

He nodded once, his own emotions so completely controlled that despite the guilt and grief that were strangling his insides, he didn’t visibly react.

Tia sighed, sipped her champagne, eyes roaming his face thoughtfully. “Just be careful, Roh. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

His smile was dismissive of the very idea. Kate, hurt him? He couldn’t imagine her hurting so much as a fly, let alone someone who’d lived the life Roman had. This was no big deal; everything was going to be fine.

Kate was watching a holiday movie on Netflix when a knock sounded on her bedroom door a little over an hour later. Roman was there, glass of wine in one hand and bowl of food in the other. “Hungry?”

She wasn’t. Or she thought she wasn’t, but the smell was intoxicatingly good. “If there’s left over, sure.”

She clearly saw the disapproval on his features, the way he reacted to her implying she wasn’t worth anything other than leftovers, and felt that pang of being wanted and valued, a pang she’d always felt for its absence, rather than presence.

“Is Tia still here?”

“She just left. Said to say ‘goodbye’.”

Kate nodded, then took the bowl he was holding out. Rather than leaving, Roman sat on the edge of the bed, close enough to shift ever so slightly and touch, if she wasn’t careful. He sipped the wine, watching as Kate lifted a forkful to her mouth and tasted the noodles.

It was incredible.

“She has a key to your place?” Kate could have kicked herself for asking, but the observations had been circling through her mind on repeat ever since Roman brought her to this room. Not only did Tia have a key, she’d shown up uninvited, unplanned, bringing a favourite take out option and known exactly where the champagne flutes were stored. In short, she’d obviously been very comfortable in Roman’s house—and life.