Page 70 of Saved By the Billionaire

“Well,” she said, after a long silence. “Thanks again, for everything.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said, finally, words gruff. “I just did what I had to.”

“No, you went above and beyond, and I don’t think anyone’s ever done that for me.” Before she could see the result of her words, she turned and walked towards the lift, and his gaze followed her mercilessly before his feet finally kicked into gear to move in her wake.

At the lift doors, she turned, a bright smile on her face. But he could see beneath it now, he could recognise the lack of sparkle in her eyes. His fist tightened into a rock.

“Okay. So…goodbye, I guess,” she said, and stepped forward awkwardly to place a kiss on his cheek. On his cheek. The woman who’d dropped to her knees for him and taken him to the back of her throat as though she’d been designed purely for that, as though it were her dying wish. He closed his eyes and before he could stop himself, his hand shifted, moving to her back then dragging her forward, hard against his body. He angled his face to take her mouth in his kissing her hard, long, fast, desperately, dominating her in the way she loved and he needed, until she was whimpering and clinging to his shirt, like she had the first time they’d kissed.

It felt like a lifetime ago. Her body melded to his, a perfect fit in every way, and he held her right there, before taking a step backwards and pressing her to the wall, trapping her between hardness and hardness, an explosion of feelings rioting inside his chest.

“What if it’s not goodbye?” he heard himself ask, drawing his mouth to the soft flesh beneath her ear.

“What?” It was a husky rejoinder, but he couldn’t tell if it was husky because of his question or the sensual heat flaring between them. He pulled back to look at her, eyes scanning her face.

“Stay another night, Kate.”

He could see she was fighting an inner-battle, so he pressed his fingers to her lips. “One more night.”

It would be so easy to simply slip back into the rhythm they’d established. He’d forage them a meal, they’d eat in bed, make love, sleep, talk, laugh. What difference did one more night make?

“I can’t,” she said.

Frustration whipped through him. “Have you got somewhere more important to be?”

Her lips twisted in a ghost-like smile. “We have a deal, remember? No, we have a contract. Today’s the day.”

“Today doesn’t end until midnight,” he pointed out.

“Ah, a clever technicality. Why am I not surprised, Mr Hayes?”

He didn’t smile, despite her attempt to lighten the moment with humour.

“Stay until then.”

Her smile—and cheery façade—slipped for a moment, frustration expressing itself with a curt sigh. “What’s the point of kicking the can down the road? It’s not going to be any easier in twelve hours.”

So she was finding this hard? It was an unintentional admission but he let it go. “But we’ll have twelve more hours.”

She shook her head slowly, put a hand on his chest and lightly pushed him backwards, creating space between them. He told himself it was surprise and nothing else that caused his muscles to tighten.

“No.” There was finality in the word, but a finality born of desperation, like if he asked again, she might agree to stay. And he wanted to. God, how he wanted to. But Kate was staring at him with a plea in her eyes and that trademark ferocity radiating from the rigid set of her shoulders, so he had no option but to nod once and force a tight smile of his own.

“Okay, you win,” he said, aware that neither of them was a winner in this situation.

He reached past her to press the button for the lift and, as always, the doors opened immediately.

She moved into it as though the floor had turned to lava. “Goodbye.” This time, there was no ‘I guess’. It was a firm cessation of all things between them, and the doors shut before he had a chance to respond. He could only stare at his own slightly-warped reflection in the metal as the elevator carried Kate down, and out of his life, for good.

Kate hadn’t cried properly in a really long time. She’d trained herself not to. To cry was to care and she’d cauterised her emotions a long, long time ago. But Roman. Ah, Roman. What couldn’t that man do? she thought angrily, as the taxi took her towards JFK, chunking through the very last of her savings. She watched the meter through her tears, until finally the cab pulled in at the airport and she got out, almost in a daze. She handed her card over with her fingers and toes crossed, pleasantly surprised when the payment went through.

That was it, though. No more money for even a bottle of water. Which was a shame, because her tears had pretty much drained her of liquids.

“What do you mean, gone?” Tia’s expression was genuinely shocked. “You’re not serious.”

Roman stared at her, his features bearing a mask that gave nothing away. “You can’t be surprised.”

“Well, I am.”