Marrying the Master (3 page)

He
was buttoning her shirt before she really felt capable of coherent sentences.

“Oh
God,” she mumbled. “What did you do to me?”

“If
you become worried before we finish the ceremony,” he said, straightening her
skirt, “I will have to do it again.”

Lola
laughed weakly. “Promise?”

Roman
stood to his full height and looked down at her, serious as the grave. “Do not
test me, Lola. You will already be disciplined for hiding from me in a…a broom
closet.”

“Disciplined?”
she said.

The
corners of his mouth twitched into what was surely a smile. “Yes. I look
forward to it.”

Lola
blinked. She did, too.

Oh.
Shit.

Roman
locked eyes with her. The two of them stood there like that, again at a loss
for words. There were times when the absurdity of their situation crystallized,
and there were times when it was clear that Lola, at least, had no idea what
they were doing. Like now, in a broom closet, right after Roman had fucked her
brains out.

A
dark look flashed across Roman’s face, and before Lola could speak he bent down
to kiss her. It was more of a brand than a kiss, and it left her breathless.

“Let’s
go,” he said, pulling away. “Before you remember that in reality you would
never marry me.”

Roman
Casta smiled brilliantly, took her by the hand, and led her to their wedding.

FOUR DAYS EARLIER…

“You
want me to be your
wife?
”

Lola’s
outrage shone on every inch of her beautiful face. Her green eyes actually
seemed to glow, pinning Roman where he stood. Her creamy skin almost glistened,
and even her hair, if it were possible, somehow seemed redder.

Every
gesture, every breath, every word that passed over those soft lips was infused
with passion. No straight human male could help but think about how that
passion might manifest in bed. She was just one of those woman who was cursed
to be maddeningly attractive when she was angry.

And
she was already attractive to start. “Attractive” didn’t quite describe her.
Roman had always thought there were no words adequate to describe Lola Theroux,
even if she was the one woman who would always be untouchable to him.

And
she would remain untouchable even if—
when
—he
had to marry her.

Roman
rolled his neck in an attempt to get his own frustration under control.
Lola’s reaction to the news that the two of them would have to
marry, and quickly, in order to save Club Volare did not cast him in a particularly
flattering light.
If he didn’t know better, he might have been insulted.

“Are
you
insane
?” Lola continued.

“Perhaps
we could continue this conversation in private,” he said evenly.

Had
he the option, Roman would not have chosen to approach Lola about the situation
surrounding Club Volare in public. He certainly would not have chosen the very
small theater space that Jake Jayson had recently purchased for his charity. A
space that was currently being used for a rehearsal, and that apparently had excellent
acoustics. Everyone present had heard Lola’s exclamation.

But
Lola hadn’t given him a choice—she’d avoided Roman since he’d had to
reveal his involvement in the
Sizzle
article exposing Club Volare, and himself as the owner of the club. He’d
actually had to track Lola down with the help of Catie, Jake’s fiancée, when
Lola had announced that she was taking her first vacation, ever, and had
stopped answering his calls. This was especially irritating because Lola had
apparently already forgiven Catie for her part in the deception involving the
Sizzle
article, when Catie had actually
been a planted spy, while Lola’s anger at Roman burned as hot as ever.

He
had never seen her so angry, and never for so long. Roman had begun to fear it
had done permanent damage to their relationship, a relationship that, though he
would never permit himself to let it go further than friendship, was among the
most important in his life.

But
while Lola’s stubborn refusal to consider all the facts surrounding his
decision to manage the
Sizzle
story
by himself had long infuriated him, now that stubbornness posed a risk to
Volare. And he could not allow that.

“Lola,”
he said again, keeping his voice calm. “Let’s talk about this somewhere else,
yes?”

“I
don’t want to go anywhere private with you, thank you,” Lola said, lowering her
voice. The people working in the theater—Jake’s people, mostly, and some
friends of Catie’s—had all very deliberately gone about their business,
pointedly directing their attention elsewhere. Even Jake and Catie had departed
up the center aisle, giving them a wide berth. It was obvious everyone was
trying very hard not to make Roman and Lola the center of attention—which
meant, of course, that they absolutely were the center of attention.

It
was just human nature. There would be gossip. There was always, always gossip.
In fact, Roman’s plan to save Volare with this fake marriage depended on it.

And
Lola had just tried his patience.

“It
was not a request.” Roman took her elbow and walked her toward the entrance.
Lola resisted, but quickly acquiesced when she saw the look on his face. If she
were going to yell at him, it would be in private.

Roman
pulled her into the small coatroom he’d seen near the ticket office and shut
the door behind them.

“What
the
hell
?” she demanded.

Lola
was even angrier now. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she breathed, and
Roman couldn’t help but notice her breasts, full and ripe under the stylish
suit she wore. Roman scowled. The first button on her shirt was low, very low,
and showed quite a bit of luscious cleavage. It was a suit that was designed to
be aggressively sexual, a power play that reveled in the sexuality of the owner
rather than trying to hide it.

It
was…unfair.

“Lola,
listen to me,” he said, and wrenched his eyes away from her chest. He looked
into her eyes, and for just a moment he thought he saw more than anger
there—she looked hurt. Instantly, he changed tack. If anything were
wrong, if anything truly hurt her, he wanted to know about it. He’d failed to
protect her the last time she’d been hurt by her ex, that pathetic coward
Benjamin Mara; he would not fail in that regard again.

“What’s
wrong?” he asked.

Lola
shook her head, her red tresses waving softly. She gave him her toughest look,
the one that said she would be giving nothing away. “You dragged me in here.
Please tell me how you could possibly think I’d agree to marry you.” After a
moment’s hesitation, she added, somewhat grudgingly, “And why you’re asking.”

So she
was still going to punish him. He sighed.

“Because
Club Volare is under attack, and I have been advised that this is the way to
save it,” he said. “Do you remember that Ford told us that he received several
inquiries from various agencies of the state after the article ran in
Sizzle
?”

“State
agencies,” she corrected automatically. His English was practically perfect
except for random idiosyncrasies, and Lola was the only person who could make
him
smile
with every correction.

“And
it was
your
Sizzle
article,” she went on, her eyes narrowing. “Of course I
remember those inquiries; they were nerve-wracking. But Ford said they were
nothing.”

“One
of them has proved to be more than nothing.”

Roman
paused. He did not look forward to this. Not least because Lola would blame
him, not entirely without cause, and become even angrier about the way he’d
decided to keep the
Sizzle
article
from her. She hadn’t even given him a chance to explain his reasoning for
keeping secrets from her, and he did not foresee this helping his case.

But
Lola looked up at him expectantly. Even in the poor light of this dull room,
she was stunningly beautiful. He treasured moments like this just as much as he
dreaded them. She couldn’t know how much he wanted her. How he had dreamed of
having her. How he had dreamed of what she might look like when she came,
screaming his name.

Of what she might taste like.

But
Roman’s obligations remained unchanged: Lola had been his responsibility at the
most vulnerable time in her life, when she was much, much younger. It would be
a terrible violation of her trust to take advantage of that intimacy and take
what he’d long wanted, especially considering Roman’s own limitations on
romantic relationships. Yet it was becoming harder and harder to avoid thinking
about her in a sexual way, harder still because of what they were about to do.

Try harder,
he thought.

“There
is a state senator who has taken an apparent personal offense to us,” Roman
said. “To who we are, and to what we do.
To Volare.
He
has found a very old law that forbids an establishment with the licenses we
hold to be operated by an unmarried woman. You are not married. He will try to
take away all of Volare’s permits and licenses unless you marry, and he will
likely succeed, at least temporarily, because he has what Ford calls ‘political
juice.’ Ford tells me that the political ramifications would be serious. Not
even our friends in Albany can afford to publicly support a sex club. Volare
will close.”

Lola
stared at him.

He
went on, “Unless you marry
me
, to be
precise, since one of my holding companies owns most of the Volare assets.”

“What
law?” she said. She’d lost the edge to her voice now.

“It
is a very old law.”

“How
old?”

Roman
had hoped to avoid this, too. It would only cause unnecessary conflict.

“I
believe it dates from the seventeenth century,” he said, as evenly as he could.
“The early seventeenth century.”

“Are
you freaking
kidding
me?”

Roman
grimaced. “Yes, I am kidding you. This is all an elaborate joke to trick you
into speaking to me again.”

He
regretted it immediately. Lola’s face frosted over, and she looked at him
with…he didn’t know the word for that look. As though she had just retreated as
far into herself as she could go, a place where Roman Casta, in particular, was
no longer welcome. The passion he’d always associated with her was gone, and
for the first time he truly worried.

Lola
only looked away and sighed.

“Look,
I get that you don’t take this whole thing with
Sizzle
seriously, Roman,” she said. “
That
is pretty obvious. But it’s difficult to work with someone who
doesn’t take
me
seriously.
Impossible, really.
It might honestly be better for everyone
if I simply quit.”

 
Roman Casta was speechless. If she had
said that in anger, he might have understood. He could respond. But she had
not. She’d said it without a trace of emotion. He was stunned: quit?
Volare without Lola?

No, not under any circumstances.
It was insane.

“It
would solve this crazy problem, wouldn’t it?” she went on. “And, without
getting into it, it doesn’t seem like you really need me anymore.”

She
was serious.

And
she was moving towards the door.

“No!”

The
word exploded into the small room, ricocheting off the walls, shattering any
pretense of normalcy. Roman’s hand shot out to pin the door closed, and Lola
turned around in alarm.

“What
the hell is wrong with you?” she said.

That is an excellent question
.

Roman
kept himself motionless, breathing deeply while his mind raced. Normally he had
an orderly mind, a very analytical mind, but Lola’s presence this close to him
presented some kind of interference. He could smell her. She always wore
Chanel, but it could not hide her own sweetness.

“Lola,”
he said. “You have not given me a chance to explain my reasoning. It is not
like you to make such a decision without hearing all the evidence.”

She
opened her mouth as if to object, then thought better of it.

“You
owe me the chance to explain myself.” He took another deep breath and tilted
her chin up towards him. She still wouldn’t look at him. Why? Had he really
done anything that terrible?

Had
he truly miscalculated that badly?

“And
in the end, Lola, you can always decide to leave if you think that is best. But
do this thing
after
we save Volare.
Please.”

He
watched her close her eyes, and he thought he heard his own heart speed up. He
hadn’t seen her look so devastated, so vulnerable, since the years when he’d
first known her, after her father died. She’d been young and naïve in many ways
then. That person had been only a shadow compared to the woman he had run into,
by random chance, at a BDSM club in the city five years ago.