Page 53 of Nothing to No One

Maybe she should punch him in the face. Right there. How would that be for a visual?

He led her out, nodding and smiling at those who caught his eye as they passed.

Yeah, those were his people. The brownnosers. Sycophants, Struan called them. He recognized their falseness, did Roman miss it? Maybe he just didn’t care. She’d put money on him being the same in return. If only there was an Oscar for fawning.

In the back of the car in the dark, in shadow, his hand crept onto her knee. Her thigh actually, not exactly indecent, but not welcome either.

On an inhale, his head turned her way, words couldn’t have been far behind—his phone rang, granting her a reprieve.

Thank God! If she had to put up with him prattling on any more about how wonderful he was or how wrong Struan was, she would lose it. Through the years, mortal folks heard tales of celebrities going crazy.

Now she better understood why.

Maybe it wasn’t the adoration of fans or the long hours and stressful work conditions. Maybe it was the egos, those who knew little screaming about how clever they were, how valued and loved and welcomed.

She wanted to be valued by one man.

Damnit. She had to stop thinking that way.

Roman fished the phone from his pocket and answered with a, “Hey, buddy,” so exaggerated, it betrayed she’d be secondary for a while.

Good.

Not just a while it turned out, the call passed second by second, minute by minute… Whoever was on the other end deserved her gratitude, honestly, she’d pay the caller every cent from her bank account if it saved her discovering just why that hand was there, still on her skin.

The car stopped at the front door and she got out. Sometimes there were people there to open doors, sometimes there weren’t, but she never waited. What was the point when she was fully capable? Why pander to an extreme that should have gone the way of the petticoat?

Roman could enjoy his call as long as he wanted.

Was it rude that she hadn’t said goodnight? Probably more wrong that it hadn’t occurred to her until she was at the top of the staircase, just a few feet from her bedroom.

Loosening the clasp from her hair and removing her earrings, she shed the wares of the night. Shower? No shower?She couldn’t be bothered drying her hair, which she’d have to. Morning, she’d get up early tomorrow.

“Hey.” She’d just clicked on the bedside lamp and didn’t have to look to know the visitor was unwelcome. “Sorry about that.”

An apology? From Roman? Unusual.

“It’s fine, I know you’re busy.” Now leave. “I had a nice time. Thanks for dinner.”

The words tripped off her tongue, like anI’m fineafter someone asking how she was. They weren’t genuine. Honestly, she didn’t mean them, and just stood there, waiting for him to excuse himself.

He didn’t.

In fact, he did the opposite and stepped inside, pushing the door though it didn’t reach the frame. Oh, shit. Alarm thrust her shoulders back and her chin rose a little, armor required. How much wine did he drink? Did it matter with an addict? Why was that her first thought? Didn’t the man deserve a clean break? If he’d gone through the program and come out the other side, he was renewed, right?

Excuses and self-criticisms ebbed and flowed, fading to nothing as he came right up close. If she were a cat, this would be the point she’d pin her ears back and sink her head into her neck to hiss.

“This has been hard on you too. You thought you were getting into something, and it became something else. There was a promise of something maybe. And then it got complicated. You’re a beautiful woman, Bambi.” When his fingertips touched her jaw, her molars clamped tight. “You don’t have to be alone in this. Don’t be afraid. If I intimidate you—”

“You don’t,” she said and backed up a step only to be caught in the angle of the nightstand against the edge of the bed.“You don’t intimidate me, and I am not alone. I am, however, tired, so I’d like to get some sleep.”

“I know what you want.” And there it was, a phrase so many women heard on lips just like his the world over. “You can have what you want.”

As he bowed, she dipped back, planting a sure hand on his chest. “I don’t want that. I don’t want you. I want to go to sleep. And if I’m not allowed to do that here, I’ll find somewhere else to do it.”

“Don’t be like that,” he said, fingers curling to strengthen his grip around her skull. “Don’t worry about anyone else. We’re here, and this is right. Take advantage, baby…”

Of his time? His presence? His presumption? No, thank you. He tried again, and without thought of discretion, she shrieked.

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