Page 85 of Saved By the Billionaire

“Kate, stop.”

“Roman,” she said, emphatically.

“I’m not taking your money.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want it. I don’t want anything. Kate, please.” But he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear knowing that she’d come here for such a pragmatic reason. It wasn’t because she needed to see him, and wanted things to work out with them.

He’d pushed his fingers into her biggest emotional bruise, and she was going to protect herself all over again rather than let him in.

“I am in love with you,” he said, slowly, knowing that only the truth would have any hope of working. “With all of my heart and soul, everything I have is yours. Including seats on my airline, anytime you want to go anywhere. This isn’t a debt—it’s reality.”

She was shaking her head though, lifting her fingers to her lips, pressing them there.

“I am in love with you,” he repeated, “and will be for the rest of my life. My deepest wish is for that life to be shared with your life. But if it’s not, I will still always love you, always help you if you ask for it, always consider everything of mine to be equally yours. You’re…my family, Kate. You always will be.”

She sobbed then, and dropped her head forward. He thought he heard her whisper family as her hands fell to her side. He moved forward, but didn’t touch her. He knew this had to be her call. God, but he loved her.

“Is there any chance you can forgive me?”

She looked up at him, eyes huge, features pinched. He hated himself so much in that moment. Hated what he’d done to her. Knew that even if she forgave him, he wouldn’t forgive himself.

Her lips pulled to the side. “The thing is, I understand you. I understand who you are, how you think and feel, I know what your fears are. I know you. I know why you reacted like you did, why you said what you did.”

He knew she was right. She had drilled right into his soul.

“And you know me. You know what it cost me to trust you. To love you. To let myself want to stay with you, to hope for a future, when I’ve learned that hope is the most futile emotion someone can feel.”

His gut felt emptied out. He’d betrayed her in the worst possible way by letting her leave. He’d made her feel expendable, just as people had made her feel, all her life.

“Do you know what I think?”

She blinked up at him.

“Words are cheap.”

Her eyes skimmed over his face.

“I could stand here and tell you I love you a thousand times. I could get down on my knees and beg you for another chance, I could beg you to marry me. I could promise you the whole fucking world and everything in it, but you’d say no. Not because you don’t love me, but because you’re not sure if you can trust me. I know you pretty damn well too, Kate.”

A tear slid down her cheek. He lifted a hand before he could stop himself, his thumb gently wiping it away. She closed her eyes on a soft sigh.

“So what if I just ask you to let me show you that you can trust me. That you’re safe with me.”

Her brow crinkled as she considered that. “What does that mean?”

“It means we go slow. I stay here in Sydney for as long as it takes. Weeks, months, years. You’ve had a thousand people let you down and that will never be me again, Kate. I don’t just want to promise you the world, I want to give it to you, every single goddamn day of our lives. I love you, and I will move mountains to show you that, if you’ll let me.”

She didn’t say anything and his whole body tensed. Nothing in his life had ever felt more consequential than this. He’d lost people, too. He’d known pain and devastation, the effort of rebuilding his life from that loss. But if Kate pushed him away, he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover. He held his breath for so long he had stars in his eyes.

“Okay,” she said, after what felt like a lifetime. “Prove it.”

Kate hadn’t doubted his sincerity, but she’d harboured some uncertainty about Roman’s ability to take anything slowly. He wasn’t built for slow. His tendency to run like a bull at a gate was a key factor in his success; she admired that trait of his.

But six weeks after going to his hotel, she had been proved thoroughly wrong.

He’d started so slowly it had been almost painful. The day after she’d gone to his hotel, he’d texted her and asked if she’d meet him for coffee the next day. Coffee! She’d agreed, and getting ready to go to the café, her stomach had filled with a million butterflies. Every single one that had been dormant since leaving New York. He hadn’t offered to pick her up, and she knew that was a conscious choice, too. He was giving her space, breathing room. Going slowly.