Spoken For (11 page)

He lies down flat on his back and pulls me over him, my cheek pressed to his chest, my eyelids drifting closed to the beat of his heart.

24

WHEN I AWAKE the next morning, I’m snuggled beneath the covers with no memory of Roman leaving or tucking me in.

I roll my head to the side and my heart staggers as I see that side of the bed rumpled, the covers drawn back, the pillow dented.

Roman spent the night.

I hold my breath, listening, but no sound comes from the bathroom. He must have awoken early and gone downstairs.

My breath pushes out slowly as I examine my feelings, what this means, what I’ll do.

Nothing.

I’ve had sex with Roman and I’ve stayed.

I’ve spent the night with him and I’m staying. There’s no panic rising up my throat. No desperate need to run.

Of course, I haven’t yet woken up beside him.

A part of me wants the challenge, wants to know if I can break the pattern. After the accident, something in me feels different. I think, maybe, I’m changing.

But there’s also a cowardly part that’s relieved I don’t have to face the truth this morning.

I don’t have to worry about this ending today.

After a quick bath, I dress and make my way downstairs.

My body’s stiff from last night’s sex. My nipples are still so tender, the lace of my bra scraping over them feels like rough hemp. The feeling isn’t unpleasant, but it keeps me highly aware of my breasts, my nipples, my entire body.

Once again, I can barely think straight without thinking about Roman fucking me, pinching, ripping my orgasms from me.

Voices from the library pull me in that direction. When I reach the door, I see Roman behind the desk. Bold standing to the side. Connor seated on a nearby armchair.

The air is thick with tension, with whatever they’ve been discussing, and as Roman’s stone-cold gaze lands on me, that tension wraps around my lungs.

“Morning, Keegan,” he says coolly. “I’m pleased you here.”

Bold inclines his head at me.

Connor grimaces, gives a small nod in my direction, says nothing.

What the hell is going on?

I give a round of general greetings as I step further inside and aim an uncertain smile at Bold. “Did you bring news about the Lamborghini?”

“Yes,” Roman answers for him. “He did.”

Then he stands and walks around the desk.

“I’ve made arrangements for your flight back to London,” he tells me. “Bold will go with you and see you safely to your apartment. You leave at midday.”

“Sweet Mary and Jesu’,” Connor rasps as he heaves himself out of the chair. I’ve never seen his pale blue eyes this hard, darkened in anger, all aimed at Roman. “There’s no call to be such a hard bastard about it, son.”

His eyes soften as he walks past me, rubs a hand over my arm.

“I’m sorry, lass,” he says gruffly and then walks on, out the door.

“I’ll be back in an hour to collect Ms. Lynch,” Bold says and follows Connor out.

A tremble shivers down my spine. I don’t understand what’s happening, but my gut is screaming.

Roman’s perched against the front of the desk, his long legs crossed at the ankles, his arms folded over that broad chest.

I wet my lips. “What’s going on?”

“Thank you, Keegan, the last few days have been incredibly pleasurable.” His voice is cold, his gaze hard and shuttered. “It’s been fun.”

Oh, God, no!

Anger slams into the back of my throat.

“And now it’s over? Just like that?” I hiss. “You pack me up and send me home with an escort?”

“Bold will accompany you to attend to any arrangements required along the way.”

“I don’t care about Bold.” My bones are shaking.

Rage. Hurt. Disbelief.

I’ve somehow lied to myself again.

I told myself I don’t know this man. Roman Rocchi is a stranger. A dark, dangerous enigma. But I didn’t believe it. Not for a second. Deep down, inside the shadows of my soul, I trusted in Roman with my all.

Now he’s throwing me out with the rubbish in the morning.

My eyes narrow on him. “You’re a cruel, cold bastard.”

I hate the quake in my voice.

I hate that it’s not all anger.

“I know.” He unfolds his arms to run a hand through his hair.

His chiselled jaw and firm mouth are grim. He’s not enjoying this moment. But he’s made his decision.

He’s done with me.

25

FOR TWO WEEKS, I’ve been lost inside myself, going through the motions of my day but not really participating. Two weeks, before my head finally starts to clear and I emerge from the numbing anger that has dazed me.

I don’t know why Roman’s rejection hit so hard.

I hadn’t fallen for him.

I hadn’t started imagining some ridiculous happy ever after.

Even if I’d been in any state to consider a committed relationship, I’d never have allowed that kind of thinking to apply to Roman Rocchi.

He was sex, wild and consuming.

He was danger, thrilling and intoxicating.

I’d always known we’d end before we’d ever really begin.

I’m not pining for Roman.

I think I’m simply shell-shocked.

26

LIAM AND I walk out together at the end of the work day.

I glance over the grassy knoll to the other identical glass buildings, watching the five o’clock crowd stream out and divide to either make their way to
Finnegans
, wait for the bus or head for the carpark.

I’m surprised to find myself still here. If I hadn’t been in such a fog these last two weeks, I would have resigned. But I haven’t seen a wink of Roman since Scotland and it’s quite possible I never will again. There was a memo last week, putting the Kleighnorm project on indefinite hold.

No reason was given.

The team has already been reassigned.

Now that I’m thinking about it, I can’t help but wonder if the entire project was a ruse, part of Roman’s twisted game.

But that doesn’t make sense.

He brought the project in before he’d even met me.

He claims to have bought Diamond specifically with the Kleighnorm account in mind.

I shake my head, not sure what to think.

Liam grabs my hand and tugs. “
Finnegans
?”

“You go ahead, I’m beat,” I tell him. “I’ll catch the bus home.”

“Or we could get Chinese takeout and spend the night in,” he says, studying me with those worried brown eyes.

“You’ve babysat me long enough.” I slide my hand from his to give him a playful push. “It’s Friday night, go have some fun. I’m fine.”

“Well, okay…” He stamps his feet against the cold and pulls up the collar of his coat. “But I’ll stay with you until the bus comes.”

I start to roll my eyes at his protectiveness, but my gaze lands on the black Mercedes idling in the drive that circles around the knoll and something about it niggles.

“That’s weird,” I murmur, nudging my chin toward the building it’s idling in front of. “I swear I’ve seen that same car there every day after work.”

“Probably a driver for some top nob who got all his points docked from his licence,” Liam says in a scathing voice. “It’s a shit life when you have to suffer the consequences by being chauffeured around.”

“Hey…” I bump hips with him, smiling uncertainly. It’s not like Liam to be obnoxious about the more privileged. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He shrugs. “I’ve just had my full of smug bastards who think their money allows them to do whatever the fuck they want.”

Ah, so this about Roman.

“To be fair, neither of us expected it to last,” I say. “I just didn’t expect it to end so abruptly.”

“Because I crashed the Lamborghini,” Liam sighs.

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Really?” Liam raises a brow at me. “It’s just a coincidence, then, that the same day he got the report back, he’s done with you.”

“Liam, seriously… I don’t even know what you mean.”

“I don’t either, trust me.” Liam shrugs. “I guess, maybe he thought there was some mechanical fault that caused the accident. But when he learnt there wasn’t, that it was just my driving, he realized how beneath him I was, and you, maybe, by association.”

My mouth gapes open at him. “I hope you haven’t been kicking yourself over this. Anyway, I don’t believe that for a second. Roman isn’t like that. If it’s got anything to do with that stupid car, then it’s probably just the timing. He kept me around to relieve the boredom while he was waiting for the report and when that came in, he was done, ready to move on, get back to his life.”

Actually, that sounds just about right.

“I’m such an idiot,” I groan. “But, believe me, I’m over it. I’m done.”

And I really am.

On the bus ride home, I push Roman Rocchi completely out of my thoughts. The dreams are bad enough, the mornings I wake up tingling from the things he did to me during the night.

I make a note to do some internet research on purging unwanted visitors from your subconscious. There must be mental exercises, rituals, maybe even a nice Oriental tea or something I can drink just before I go to bed.

It’s already dark by the time I hop off the bus outside my building.

Dark, icy cold, and the thought of tea reminds me that my cupboards are bare. I haven’t bothered with shopping much and Liam is totally useless. I round the corner instead of going up, cutting through a side street to the Late Shop on the far end.

I’ve only gone three feet when a hand grabs my arm from behind.

“What the—” Another hand clamps over my mouth, pressing my head back rigidly to a hard chest.

“I have a gun,” a thickly accented voice speaks softly at my ear. “Do not make the mistake of assuming I will not use it.”

My blood freezes. I recognise the accent, but not the voice. It’s Italian, but much thicker than Roman or Bold’s.

I squirm within the grasp, try to twist my head around to see who’s there, but I’m firmly trapped. Ahead, the brightly lit main street is only fifty yards or so away.

Busy.

People crossing the side street, chatting, laughing.

Look this way,
I plead. But even if they did, we’re caught in shadows. There’s a car parked in the side street a little further up, but I don’t see anyone sitting inside.

My lungs constrict with fear.

Oh God, please, someone, anyone, come down this street.

“We’re going to walk slowly to that car there and you will climb in,” that menacing voice says. “If you try anything, it will be the last thing you ever regret.”

“Please, take my bag, my purse, take everything...” My words are muffled against his hand, but he hears some of it.

“This isn’t a mugging, Ms. Lynch.”

My name?

Fuck, he knows my name!

The sound of screeching tires pierces my brain. The hand whips away from my mouth but the grip on my arm digs deeper.

“
Merdi!
”

Brakes squeal.

Before I can get a look at what’s happening, I’m slammed between the wall and his back, and then my arm is nearly ripped from the socket. The man’s head snaps back. For a second, I take his full weight as his body rams into me, then slumps to the ground.

I don’t move.

I sag against the wall, grabbing for breath as I watch Bold kick the man out of his way and reach for me.

“Are you okay?”

I think I nod. I don’t even try to talk. My throat is choked, my bones trembling.

My legs buckle and Bold wraps an around me as I go down, pulling me up again, helping into the car he reeled up in.

The same black car I saw earlier, but I can’t even begin to process what that means.

My head throbs and my vision is suddenly blurred with black spots and white stars.
Don’t pass out. Don’t you dare!

I blink, grit my teeth to stop the rattling as Bold hands me into the car. I see what happens next. I watch mutely as Bold loosens his tie from around his neck and uses it to bind the man’s wrists together. Then he uses the man’s own tie to bind his ankles. The shoes come off and he strips the man’s socks, one to stuff in his mouth, the other pulled tightly through his parted lips and knotted at the back of his head.

Bold pops the trunk and the car dips slightly with the force and weight as he throws the man in. I hear Bold on the phone to Roman. I’m aware when Bold climbs in and starts the engine.

I see, listen, feel, but I don’t have a coherent thought that I can hold onto.

The man had a gun.

He knew my name.

My skin is covered in goose bumps and the shivers tremble even deeper to prickle an icy cold into my veins. My knee bounces uncontrollably and no matter how tightly I wrap my arms around myself and dig my fingers into my side, I can’t stop the shakes that rattle my entire body.

We drive for ages, I have no idea how long, leaving the lights and buildings far behind before the car slows to an idle in front of a massive, towering set of wrought-iron gates. Spotlights illuminate parts of the perimeter wall, stone, as high as the gates.

Beyond the gates, the driveway crunches beneath the car tires and winds through deep forest for a few seconds before opening onto a sprawling home. Only a handful of lights twinkle from various windows in the hulking shadow, but the entrance is well lit and one half of the arched door stands open. Roman waits there, comes down the steps as the driveway circles us around a garden of sorts and delivers right outside the door.

Moments later, Roman is pulling me from the car into his arms, folding me close to his chest, wrapping me in his warmth. A feeling of innate security, safety and rightness washes over me and I crumple into him, tears suddenly streaming from my eyes.

“It’s okay, baby, you’re safe,” he murmurs as he bundles me even closer and walks me inside. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”