Page 38 of Saved By the Billionaire

“There,” she said, voice breathless and husky. She lifted a hand up and curved it around his cheek. “Is that better?”

It should have been better. It should have felt better and yet, to Roman, it was suddenly so much worse. So much more dangerous. Because there was no longer a single obstacle standing in the way of kissing her, of taking her to bed and making her his, just as he’d been secretly wanting to almost since the first moment she entered his life.

But something held him back.

He’d thought it was the contract—it was a non-negotiable for Roman to have a solid NDA in place before he got close with anyone. But now? It was something more.

Kate was threatening, despite the paperwork. He’d already told her more than he should have; more than he had any other woman he’d been involved with. He’d mentioned Grace, for god’s sake, and he never spoke about Grace. He couldn’t bear to. How he’d failed his sister was his burden to share—only Tia understood that.

And yet, with Kate, he felt as though there was a part of her that instinctively understood. It didn’t matter what he said; she just seemed to get him.

“So we have a deal,” she said—case in point. Knowing he needed this reassurance in that moment. “On the morning of the fifteenth, you’ll wake up and I’ll be gone—like Cinderella, except I don’t have a single glass slipper to leave.”

“And I won’t search the kingdom for you,” he said, to himself, as much as her.

“That’s our agreement.”

He wanted to kiss her, and he was pretty sure she wanted that, too. But kissing her was the beginning of a path that felt tangled and unclear.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

She blinked up at him, clearly confused, as though he’d given her whiplash. That made two of them. He just needed some space; some breathing room. A moment to regain his grip on the situation, his control, so he could do it justice. Otherwise this thing had the power to run away from them. It was like trying to contain a lightning bolt with his bare hands.

“Sure,” she recovered quickly, with the professional abilities of someone who’s had to do a lot of mask-wearing in their life. Which devastated him. Her childhood sounded as fucked up as his own had been, and Kate deserved so much better.

“Tell me what you know about your father,” he invited, taking comfort from the familiar act of pouring two glasses of wine.

She stood very still, and then, when he handed a glass to her, smiled her thanks and took it without touching his fingers. She was being as careful as he was—aware that one wrong move could send them up in flames, and they’d both been burned enough for a lifetime.

“Very little, unfortunately. I have the photograph, and on the back, my mother had written the location—in LA. Between that, and his name, I was able to find a Facebook profile, but it hasn’t accepted my friend request, or responded to my message. But his profile picture showed a restaurant. That was my starting point.”

“He worked there?”

“No. No one at the restaurant knew who he was or why he’d posted that photo. But there was a comment from someone I could see, who mentioned him being a good neighbour, so I reached out to them, and eventually heard back. That’s how I know he moved to New York.”

He sipped his wine thoughtfully. “You could have done a lot of this from Australia.”

She sighed. “I know. It was a bit of a knee-jerk reaction, to come over here. I guess…I guess I really wanted to find him.”

“You don’t want to be alone anymore?”

She bristled visibly, sipped her wine. “I have no issues with being alone. But he’s my father.” She tried to grasp the thread of what that meant. “He’s a part of me, and I don’t even know…what his voice sounds like, or his laugh. I don’t know what he eats or thinks—is he religious? Cynical? Funny? Kind? I look at myself in the mirror and don’t know who gave me what. My mother, father, grandparents. I’m a muddle of pieces and I just, I want to understand myself better.”

His sympathy for her surprised him. Sympathy was akin to softness and Roman refused to give into that. Only, hadn’t he already? Hadn’t he felt a surge of protectiveness for Kate from the moment they’d met? Protectiveness though was a hard emotion. But if it was underscored by sympathy, by concern and compassion, what did that mean?

Suddenly, Roman was a muddle of pieces he couldn’t understand, just as Kate had described.

“This is delicious.”

She sounded self-conscious. He watched as she drank the wine, then sipped his own.

“What about your parents?” she asked, eyes hooked to his.

He stared right back, as though he wasn’t at all fazed by the question. As though Kate asking him about his parents didn’t make his chest spasm with a gripping pain. “What about them?”

She lifted one shoulder. “I signed your contract,” she pointed out. “Isn’t that so you can talk to me, without being worried I’ll sell all the tawdry details of your life?”

His smile was without humour. Tension flooded his spine. “Something like that.”