Page 88 of Stolen By the Don

As she walks off, her arms neatly folded in front of her, I yawn, stretching out my arms. I had no idea I slept for that long, but after days without sleep, I’d say I deserved it.

Memories of last night trickle back to my mind as I head for the dining room, and warmth blossoms in my cheeks as I remember Roman kissing me.

That was all we did, even though we slept in the same bed—until I dozed off—but it felt like the sweetest thing ever.

“Sweetest thing ever?” I echo, surprised at my thoughts. When did that become a thing?

I’ve thought of Roman as gentle, tender, oddly funny sometimes, but never sweet. And yet, it seems like the only word fit to describe how he held me in his arms, my back against his chest. It’s the first night we’ve slept together without having sex.

“Isabella.” He stands up as I walk in, circling the table to hold out a chair.Huh.“Sit.” I do, and he guides it closer to the table.

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” I say, watching him as he returns to his seat.

He nods. “Yeah, I was. But I wanted to show you something first.”

I tilt my head, temporarily forgetting the food in front of me—even though it smells amazing. “Show me something?”

“Yes.” He gestures to the plate. “Eat first. Then we’ll leave.”

Clearly, the man has never heard of anticipation anxiety. “Do you know how annoying that is?” I mutter. “I’m not a horse.”

Roman’s eyes narrow, faint amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Why would you be a horse?”

I fold my arms and lean back. “Because you dangled something in front of me and told me to do something else first. It’s like waving a carrot in front of a horse and saying, ‘Win the race, and maybe I’ll let you nibble.’”

He chuckles under his breath. “You’ve got quite the imagination.”

“And you’ve got terrible timing,” I shoot back, though my lips twitch despite myself.

“You need to eat first,” he says, stern yet gentle. I roll my eyes, but I oblige.

A yacht.

When he said he wanted to show me something, I thought maybe it was tucked away somewhere in the house. A room I hadn’t seen, some rare collectibles, or perhaps news.

Then he said we were leaving the house, and I thought about shopping—for designer bags and shoes.

I didn’t think I’d end up on a private dock, staring at a sleek, multi-deck superyacht gliding gently in the water like it owns the sea.

“That’s…huge,” I manage, eyes wide, lips parted in awe. The thing looks like it belongs in a movie. Or maybe a villain’s fortress.

Roman slips his fingers through mine. “A beauty, isn’t she?” he says quietly, like he’s talking about a lover, but when I turn, he’s staring at me. He smiles and points with his other hand. “I bought her years ago. Thought I’d use her more, but I’m not much of a sea man. She’s just been waiting here.” He tugs my hand gently, eyes glinting. “Come. I’ll show you.”

We walk down the dock and climb onto the deck, my sandals clicking against the wood as I take it all in. Every line is pristine. Polished chrome blends with white leather and dark wood.

It’s the kind of luxury that takes your breath away, and not in a flashy way.

“Roman,” I murmur, glancing at him as he leads me across the deck. “This thing is ridiculous.”

He smirks. “Good ridiculous or bad ridiculous?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He laughs. “That’s good because it’ll give me enough time to convince you that it’s the good kind so you can name her.”

I lift an eyebrow as I look at him. “You want me to give your yacht a name? That’s something the owner would do, right?”

“She’s yours as much as she’s mine,” he replies smoothly.

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