Page 36 of Saved By the Billionaire

Chapter Eight

IT WAS ALL SHE COULD think about for the rest of the day. I want to make you mine. His possessive, white-hot statement swirled around and around in her mind, tormenting her, throbbing through her. And the papers on the dining table were like a talisman, calling to her, pleading with her to add her signature.

And yet, she didn’t.

At first, she couldn’t tell why she was holding back. A non-disclosure agreement was no big deal. He was wealthy and well-known; he wanted to protect his privacy. Fair.

But if she signed the contract, she’d be like the others. The other women he boxed neatly into a compartment in his mind, slept with and then moved on from. Forgot about. If she signed the contract, she’d be like anyone else, and she railed against the very idea.

Because Roman wasn’t like anyone she’d spent time with.

Roman wasn’t some one-night stand she intended to hook up with then leave, in the small hours of the morning. Roman wasn’t meaningless.

The knowledge of that should have driven her towards the contract, not away from it. If he wasn’t meaningless, then what was he? And how did she protect herself from him? He wouldn’t be some one-night stand she left without a backward glance, but they’d agreed to an end point to this, and she intended to honour it. Because staying would lead to her wanting more, and there was never going to be more on offer here.

Roman didn’t want more.

That’s why he kept pushing her towards the contract. For all she didn’t want to be neatly partitioned in his mind, that was exactly what he sought from her. To turn whatever it was they shared into something he could process and comprehend. Something he could control.

She understood the instinct, even when she had no interest in giving into it.

But wasn’t there power in meeting him toe to toe? Wasn’t there a power in signing the contract and forcing them both to accept the terms of when this would end? After all, Kate had spent her childhood being discarded on terms that were not her own. The rug was pulled out from under her more times than she could remember. With Roman, they had a date. There would be no surprise, no dramatic argument, no hurt as a door was closed in her face. It was as safe as a relationship could get for Kate; and the contract would help with that.

She suppressed a groan as her thoughts went back and forth, and all the while, his statement clouded her ability to think logically. Sign the damned contract. I want to make you mine.

The sun was low in the sky when a knock sounded on the doors of Roman’s apartment and shortly after, four women walked in with polite smiles locked in place. Roman didn’t look up from his laptop.

“Erm,” Kate said quietly, sitting up straighter. “Roman?”

He glanced at her then. “Dinner.”

Her stomach looped as the small army set to work in the kitchen, removing containers and setting the table, lighting candles, decanting wine. A moment later, someone pressed something, somewhere, and muted piano music began to play through the apartment. Beyond them, New York was starting to glow, the lights of the high rises striking against the dusk sky.

“Mr Hayes, dinner is ready,” one of the women said, coming towards Roman and Kate.

Roman nodded without smiling. “Thank you.”

“Would you like us to stay and serve?”

“We’ll manage,” he responded.

“Very well, sir. Good night.”

Kate waited until they were alone and then an incredulous laugh escaped her.

“Problem?” Roman asked, watching as Kate moved to standing, testing her ankle. It was getting better each day.

“No. No problem. It’s just…a sort of absurd way to live.”

“I would have suggested a restaurant, but that would mean being around other people.”

“We don’t like other people?”

“We prefer to be alone.”

Heat simmered in her veins at the possessive way he was looking at her, and a second later, he was scooping her up and carrying her towards the dining table.

“You have to stop!” She laughed once more. “I’m quite capable of walking now.”