Page 11 of Sapphire Storm

What was Scott doing here? He only came down from LA whenRachel was in town, and she wasn’t due back for another few days. And Roman,stillrattledand raw, had been hoping to escape tohis room and shut the door before Diana could see how upset he was.

But just then the front door flew open, and Scott—a formerNFL player who’d warmed the bench for a season before a brief career inmodeling—bounded toward the Bentley on long, muscled legs before Roman had achance to kill the engine. He was one of the few men Roman had met who made himfeel short. Maybe because he liked to muss Roman’s hair like he was a littleboy, even though he was only seven years older. When he went to do it thistime, Roman jerked his head away.

“’sup, Freestyle? How’s your secret boyfriend?” What he’d doneto earn the nickname, Roman wasn’t sure. He assumed it was Scott’snot-so-subtle way of saying he thought Roman slept around a lot. Nothing couldbe further from the truth.

“I don’t have a secret boyfriend. Is Rachel back?”

“Nah, not for another few days. Give me the keys.”

“Why?”

“Just give me the keys. I’m driving us.”

“Where?” Roman stepped from the Bentley as if his feetweighed a hundred pounds each.

“Dinner. Diana’s going to meet us in a bit. She’s screamingat her agent ’causehe brought her another cameo in ahorror movie. Driver guy’s going to bring her over when she’s done.”

Roman winced.Driver guywas named Hank Johnson,and he was more than a chauffeur. He was Diana’s chief of staff, which meant hewas a bodyguard, part-time handyman, and jack of all trades. The man was bothkind and essential, and Scott should have shown him the respect of learning hisactual name by now.

But it was the phone call happening inside that dominatedRoman’s concerns.

Despite being a television icon who regularly presented atthe Emmys, his boss hadn’t acted in anything other than a commercial for one ofher own products in years. But her products sold more than enough to keep hervast empire running. There was her signature perfume, her department storeclothing line, and the various pieces of luxury real estate all over the worldgenerating staggering rental income when she wasn’t in residence. Smartinvestments and expert financial management had left Diana Peyton rich in waysthat were impossible for most people to comprehend. “Sometimes I just don’t knowwhat todowith all of it, sugar,” she’d once sighed at Roman beforesinking back into her sofa cushions wearing a Cheshire cat smile. Still, nothingcould change the fact that she yearned to be in front of the cameras again,playing the kind of Oscar-bait roles that had always been denied her.

“Keys, Freestyle.” Scott tugged them from his grip. Hebriefly gripped the back of Roman’s neck in his other hand and gave it a littleshake that sent unwelcome tingles racing down Roman’s spine.

“You know, I’m notreally hungry. Iwas just going to hang in my room tonight.”

“Not a chance. Boss Lady’s orders. You know how these callsgo. She’s going to need four courses and a bottle of Merlot to decompress.Apparently, this one’s about killer worms, and she was supposed to bite it inthe opening scene.”

“Worms are, like, the slowest things on earth. How are theygoing to kill people?”

“From what I could hear, it sounds like they build up underthis house in the woods and the victims fall through the floor one after theother or something. So really it’s a horror movie aboutshittyfloors, I guess. Anyway! She’s not doing it, so who cares? Hop in. I’m so hungryI could eat my own ass.”

Gross, Roman thought, but he relented, walkingaround the back of the car to the passenger side door.

He was starved, too, but he’d hoped to eat alone, and theprospect of spending time with Scott Bryant made him uneasy.

The truth was—and he’d never spoken it aloud to anyone—hedidn’t like Scott. The guy always played a little too rough for his taste,probably because he was jealous of how close Roman was with his fiancée. But ifhe was worried Roman knew all the couple’s dirty secrets, he was mistaken.Rachel’s career had taken off right around the engagement. These days, when shewas able to give Roman any time at all, they spent it talking about work.

He’d never told her he thought she could do better.

Much better.

Sure, Scott had piercing blue eyes, a determined jaw, and achest you could serve a cheese tray on at a crowded party. There were eventimes when his confident swagger could seem sexy and chivalrous. And apparentlyScott was more talented in the bedroom than on the football field becausewhenever he and Rachel stayed over at the Castle, Roman was forced to jam apillow over his head to drown out the sounds of their lusty enthusiasm in theroom above his.

But Rachel was smart and insanely talented across the board.As an actress, she was Meryl Streep-level good, a chameleon who could disappearinto any role. She navigated every conversation like someone whose every wordhad been scripted by a room full of top comedy writers. She read complicatedbooks on politics and current events and broke them down for Roman in severalconcise paragraphs he could easily digest. More importantly, once every lunchor phone call, she made Roman laugh so hard he cried. Scott, on the other hand,said mostly the same four things about cryptocurrencyoverand over againand seemed to think aggressive hand gestures made dumbpoints sound smarter.

The man sped north on PCH, rapping a Cardi Bsong—badly—under his breath. Roman fought the urge to turn on the radio anddrown the guy out with someone else’s voice, but he figured that would betransparently rude. “Where are we going?” he asked instead.

“The Farmhouse at Rogers Garden.” He swerved to avoid a blueand gold Laguna Beach Transit Trolley loaded with gawking tourists, then cursedunder his breath when he found himself stuck behind a minivan. “Seriously, youcan be real with me. You know that, right?”

“Sure. What are we talking about?”

“I mean, if you were out hooking up with someone, you couldtell me. Like I want us to be close. You know, like guys close.”

“Guys close. Okay. I wasn’t hooking up with anyone.”

“Well, why not? You’refucking gorgeous,dude.”

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