Page 41 of Saved By the Billionaire

“You’re not coming to bed?” She sounded so shy and demure. Roman felt the tendons in his neck pulse, as fires of temptation licked through his body.

He wanted to.

He wanted to go to bed and make her his, just as he’d promised. But he knew that succumbing to temptation now would be a disaster, because he was not yet in control. His body was rioting, a tangle of desperation and hunger, of absolute surrender, and if there was one thing Roman knew for sure, it was he would never surrender himself to another.

“Soon,” he said, softening the tautness of his voice with a smile, though he feared it was equally tight. “I have some emails to catch up on.”

“Oh.” She hid her disappointment quickly, and again he thought about the masks she’d been forced to develop, the way she’d learned to sell a different version of herself. Her veneer was perfect. “Okay. Well, don’t keep me waiting too long…”

Her words hung in the air between them long after she’d hobbled from the room. He’d watched her go with the tightness in his body becoming unbearable, his cells reverberating as though they were being shaken.

He hadn’t been lying. He did have emails to catch up on, but no amount of work could keep him from thinking about the woman lying a few walls away. The way she’d be curled up, breathing softly in sleep, body as soft as rose petals.

After an hour, he gave up on work, gave up on everything and stood, exasperated, stalking towards the lift doors and jabbing his finger into the button. The doors parted immediately and he stepped in, only realising he’d been holding his breath when they closed again and put some geographical space between himself and Kate.

Once out on the streets, he started to walk. Long, confident strides cutting over the sidewalk with ease, the darkness of the night enveloping him with its welcome seclusion and anonymity. He walked as though he had a predator on his tail, as though if he stopped moving he would be swallowed by the earth—or something far more sinister. Connection.

Chapter Nine

SHE DIDN’T KNOW IF IT was the wine, or the excellent meal, or the conversation with Roman, but Kate slept like a very happy baby that night. No nightmares. No dreams. No crying out in the middle of the night.

No Roman.

She woke alone, and desperately disappointed. She’d already become used to the feeling of his big arm wrapped around her, keeping her safe, promising her things she had no business wanting. Things she’d never let herself even think about hoping for.

Because she’d meant what she’d said the night before. Fairytales weren’t real—not for everyone. Definitely not for her. And she’d given up on hoping for them a long time ago.

So maybe waking up alone was a timely reminder of why she needed to keep her wits about her. It was just like before, with everyone else in her life. She’d let herself get comfortable here, with Roman, and then he’d disappointed her. He’d pulled the rug out from under her, just like she’d had happen so many times before, but it was all her own fault.

For wanting more than they’d agreed, for wanting more than she knew was possible.

In the shower, she scrubbed her skin all over, relishing the slightly painful abrasion of the flannel on her skin, the way she glowed pink afterwards. She washed her hair and let the water cascade over her for a long time before stepping out and wrapping a towel around her body.

When she stepped into her room, Roman was there, one hand pressed to the bed, where she’d slept.

Dressed in a suit, his hair still damp from a shower.

She hadn’t seen him in a suit, and the sight of him like this did something funny to her tummy. She stopped walking immediately, afraid to get too close. Afraid to hold her ground. Frustration gnawed at her.

She knew she should run a mile, but she wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg him to make love to her. Every lesson her childhood had taught her was long forgotten, or no longer seemed to matter around Roman. Maybe the searing pain of loss would be worth it, for what she could share with Roman? Maybe if she let her guard down, just this once, even knowing nothing about this was permanent, she wouldn’t regret it after all?

“I have to go out.”

She frowned.

“A meeting requires my personal attention.”

She wanted to rail against that. They’d built a perfect, impenetrable bubble, completely erasing the existence of the outside world. And now, he was going to burst it.

Or was it that he was ready to leave? Was it that he was bored of her? Regretting his offer for her to stay? Wishing she’d go?

Uncertainty held her still. She dug her toes into the plush carpet as a way of anchoring herself to this moment, and muting her natural reaction. To run, before she was asked to leave.

“I’ll be gone most of the day.”

She closed her eyes, hating what was coming. He wanted her to leave. She could feel it. She’d pushed too hard the night before. She’d asked too much. She’d grown too comfortable, too complacent, and she’d become a burden.

He’d gotten what he wanted: a signed confidentiality agreement. Maybe that was what he’d needed all along?