Page 64 of Saved By the Billionaire

Chapter Fourteen

FOR THREE FULL DAYS, they barely surfaced to so much as draw breath. It was a whirlwind of pleasure, sensual exploration, eating as required, sleeping in bursts, more pleasure. Days turned into nights unnoticed, time no longer seemed to matter. They ate breakfast at midnight and drank champagne in the small hours of the morning; they left the guest bedroom only when absolutely required.

Somewhere in the back of Kate’s mind, she wondered about Roman’s commitments. His work, his life outside of work, his plans before she’d come into his life, but she didn’t dare ask, lest she inadvertently remind him of something he couldn’t avoid, that would bring an end to this.

On the fourth day after making love for the first time, as the sun began its journey towards the horizon, Roman stepped out of bed. Kate stared at him, tongue-tied as always at his beauty. His body was the work of a sculptor. She’d known that, even before she’d seen him naked. When he’d scooped her up in that alley and held her close, she’d felt muscles bunch and power radiate from every step he took. But it was nothing compared to the sight of him like this, all bronzed sinew and flesh, hard abdominal wall, biceps that looked like they could lift ten of her, not just one, thick, strong neck with those powerful corded tendons on either side. But it was his face that stole her breath even now. She wondered if she’d ever be able to get her fill of looking at him? Even if she had a lifetime, which she knew she didn’t, it wouldn’t be enough. Every shift of his features cast him in a new light, and right now, he was looking at her as though there was a whole gallery of images in his own mind.

“Come with me,” he said, voice soft, tone unreadable. “I want to show you something.”

She moved to the edge of the bed and put her hand in his, ignoring the way arrows spiked through her bloodstream, the way something shifted inside her at the intimacy of holding his hand. After everything they’d done to each other, all the exploration and pleasuring and experiencing, just having him wrap her hand in his made her insides tremble and quake.

In the living room, he dropped her hand and even though there was no one there to see, and Roman wasn’t watching her, she pretended it didn’t feel like a desertion, leaving an empty, hollowed out feeling in her chest.

He moved to the multimedia player, gloriously naked. As was Kate, she realised belatedly, reaching down and grabbing one of the cashmere throws and wrapping it around her shoulders.

“This,” he said, turning to face her, frowning slightly, as though confused. “Is Grace.”

A moment later, a beautiful, soulful voice filled the room, singing a bluesy song Kate didn’t recognise.

“She was a singer?”

He nodded once. “She was always musical. It was her way of escaping. Whenever it got too much, she’d lose herself in songs, blocking her ears and holding onto the melodies that ran through her mind. She started writing her own stuff when she was a teenager.”

“It’s beautiful,” Kate said, surprised to hear her voice wobble with emotion. Because Grace’s singing was beautiful, but it was also ethereal and haunted. Was she only reading that into it because she knew about her addiction? Or was it the quality of her sound alone?

“She got signed to a record label when she was seventeen. We were so happy for her.” We. Him and Tia. He cleared his throat. “We had no idea it was the beginning of the end for her.”

“How?” Kate asked, simply, moving towards him and slipping an arm out of the blanket so she could wrap it around his waist.

“They loved her. Everyone loved her, and she loved being loved.”

Kate closed her eyes, feeling an affinity for his sister. She could understand how seductive that must have been.

“Before long, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing their approval. She got caught up in that world, seduced by it. She went on tour, supporting a much bigger vocalist, got introduced to drugs, and then, addicted to them.”

Kate stroked his back, but it did nothing to ease the pain she felt seeping from his pores. “It’s not your fault.”

“Easy to say, but I should have done more.”

“Addiction is a personal battle.”

“I tried to get her into rehab but she was adamant that she didn’t need it. I wanted to believe that.”

“Of course you did.”

“The truth is, I was too focused on my own things. My business, my investments. I told myself she was okay, and she wasn’t.”

There were a thousand platitudes Kate wanted to offer, but they wouldn’t help. Guilt and grief often went hand in hand. She understood that this was a part of his process, a part of what he needed to feel to honour Grace’s memory.

“She pushed us away, Tia and me. She stopped coming to our dinners, stopped answering our calls. I think she was ashamed, or hiding. Or, I don’t know. I tried to keep in touch, but towards the end, she just dropped off the side of the earth. She died, high on a concoction of shit, alone in some alley in the meatpacking district.”

Kate held him tighter, closer. “Why? Why there?”

“She’d been at some industry party, then left. I don’t know why. To score? To go home? She didn’t make it.”

Kate closed her eyes on a wave of sadness for the waste and futility of that. “I’m so sorry.”

He nodded his head once. Grace’s music continued to swirl around them, beautiful and wistful.