by Eve, Melody
“The problem here is why do you get to call the shots?”
“That’s easy because I’m the boss.”
I scoot away from him, turn around, and sit up crossing my legs to face him. “Since when are you the boss in this relationship?”
He looks genuinely confused. “Since always.”
“Oh no, buster, that’s not how it works with me. You may be king of the bank and ruler of your family, but when it comes to me, we are equals. I will not be ruled, owned, or bossed by anyone. Ever. Got it?”
He makes a smoldering face that confuses the crap out of me. “What is your problem?”
“Apparently, you are at the moment. You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are when you stand up for yourself. All this, I am woman hear me roar shit is making me hot. Was that your plan from the beginning? To manipulate me into the mood?”
I grab a throw pillow and toss it at him hard. “No, you dumb ox. I want to watch this damn show with you and relax, and I want to know that if the mood strikes me, I can count on you to take care of me.”
His face softens, and he takes my hands in his. “Listen, beautiful, sometimes women are crazy, and I think this is one of those times. Now, let me do my thing. Lie down, relax, and I will take care of you. If you decide you want to have sex, just say so.”
I frown. “But…”
He pulls me down and tucks me against his side. “Aria, you have more power than you know. I will always assert myself and think of myself as the boss, but when it comes right down to it, you hold all the cards, understand?” he says against my cheek. I do understand now. I don’t know where that defiant streak came from, but I see what he’s saying. Let me think I’m the boss even though we both know I’ll give you anything you want, no questions asked.
“Yes.”
“Good, where’s the remote?”
I reach my hand under the stack of pillows and pull out the remote. “Hiding it?” he asks.
“No, just making sure I don’t lose it.” He turns on season four, and we settle in.
Two episodes later when I feel myself fading, I remember Roman’s hesitance about giving me a tour of the house. “Roman?”
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t you want me to see your house?”
“What makes you think I don’t?”
“It was pretty obvious something was wrong when I was talking about it tonight at dinner. I didn’t want to press in front of your family, but I felt the tension.”
He kisses the top of my head and buries his nose in my hair to breathe in the scent. “It’s not that I don’t want you to see it, I don’t want you to judge me.”
“Your decorating’s that bad?” I tease.
“My decorating is superb.”
“Then why?”
“You don’t care for extravagance and well…’
Now it’s starting to make sense. “Your house is that extravagant?”
“I’ll admit I went a little overboard in some areas, yes.”
I lay quietly for a while thinking about my views on money. It’s not that I don’t like it, of course not, who doesn’t like money? It’s just that David was obnoxious about his money, always talking about how much he earned per game and the next toy he was going to buy. Now that I look back, I was embarrassed of him, not his wealth.
Roman has expensive things—two yachts, a resort in Mexico, a jet, and this house—but he acts like an ordinary guy. An ordinary, powerful, bossy guy, but he doesn’t flaunt it. He likes to spoil, but it’s born of love and affection instead of ego.
“Roman.”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t have a problem with your wealth. I want you to know that. I think I’m still recovering from the way David was about money. I don’t want you to feel bad about your accomplishments. You’ve worked hard for what you have, and you deserve to be proud of it.”
His grip on me tightens, and he kisses my neck. “Thank you, I’m glad to hear that.”
His tone is slightly conspiratorial as if he has something planned.
“Roman,” I say, warning in my voice.
“What? I thanked you, isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”
“Yes, it’s the way you said it. What do you have up your sleeve?”
“You’ll see on Monday when you get off bedrest.”
“So, you do have something planned?”
“I always have something planned. You might as well get used to it.”
Getting used to it is exactly what I’m afraid of.
7
Roman
The rest of the week goes as planned—Aria in bed, me at her side, her healing as she should have in Mexico when she hit her head. I’ll never forgive myself for letting that slip. I should have listened to my gut and insisted she go to a hospital instead of the resort physician.
I lost one wife and a baby being careless, I’ll die before I let that happen again.
I’m sitting propped up on pillows in bed with Aria working on my laptop Monday morning when she throws the remote across the room and pulls the comforter up over her head.
“I can’t watch TV one more second. Please let me out of this bed, my appointment at the doctor is this afternoon. What’s the difference if I get up now or later?”
She’s been a good patient, she hasn’t done much complaining, she’s been tolerant of my rules to a point, and she’s definitely been resting a lot. “All right, let’s go for a walk, and I’ll show you the upstairs of the house.”
She whips the comforter down grinning from ear to ear. “Really? You’re not teasing?”
“No, let’s go.” I shut my laptop and slide out of bed only to find her already at the door bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Excited?”
“Oh my God, I’ve never spent that much time in bed in my life, and I never want to again.”
I take her hand threading my fingers between hers. “Do you want the ten-dollar tour or the five-dollar tour?”
“Ten, of course, I want to see everything!”
“On the right is a bathroom, I trust you don’t care to see that.”
“No, that’s fine, unless it has a gold-plated toilet or something.”
I chuckle. “I said the house was extravagant, not gaudy.”
“That’s a relief.”
“The next door on your right is my upstairs office.”
“Right here?” she says pointing at the door.
“Yes.”
“You moved a desk into the bedroom when you had an office this close to it?”
“I’m a multi-talented man, Aria, but I can’t see through walls.”
“I think I would have been fine. This is within yelling distance.”
“I like to watch you sleep.”
“Oh.”
She can’t argue with that. “On the other side are two guest bedrooms, a cedar closet, and a small library.”
“A library? I want to see that first.”
“Right this way,” I say guiding her to the fourth door on our left skipping the bedrooms and closet. I knew she’d want to go here first, and I have been stocking it with her favorite books for years. This library is for her, this is her surprise. Every book she’s ever read or loved is on the shelves. I had my mother decorate so it would have a woman’s touch.
I open the door and let her go in first. She gasps covering her mouth with one hand. “Oh my God, Roman. You said it was a small library! This is massive.”
I step closer to her wrapping my arms around her waist bending to rest my chin on her shoulder. “Have a look at the books. I had the ladder installed last week, but you’re not allowed on it unless I’m with you. That’s a hard, strict rule, understand?”
“Yes,” she whispers wandering away to pluck a book from a nearby shelf. The room has floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on three sides and a bay window on the fourth with a large built-in seat where she can curl up and read anytime she wants. Mother decorated in pale pinks, gold, and white except for the sh
elves which are a dark cherrywood. The contrast is perfect, and a large chandelier is hanging in the middle of the room is the cherry on top. Mom had said it was like Beauty and the Beast when he showed her his library. Except this isn’t my library, it’s hers, and I’m no beast.
I take a seat in one of the chairs my mom arranged in a seating area opposite the window and watch her browse the titles. She squeals once or twice, and then she starts to touch each book, faster and faster until she spins around.
“These are all of my favorite books, all my favorite authors.”
“And they’re all signed.”
“No,” she says grabbing a copy of a wildly popular author’s book and opening it to the first page. “To Aria, with love, Violet Chrome,” she reads. “Roman, Violet Chrome lives in Paris and she never ever does signings. How on earth did you get this?”
“Connections.” I shrug as if it’s no big deal when in reality, I had to beg, borrow, and steal to get that book signed.
She turns her head looking at me suspiciously. “No, I own a bookstore, remember? You don’t get to shrug that off like it’s no big deal. I know how hard this must have been, she’s practically a recluse.”
“Okay, so it wasn’t easy, but I couldn’t give you an incomplete gift. You can’t have a personal library without the crown jewel.”
She slides the book back onto the shelf and rushes to me climbing into my lap. “You can be the sweetest man on the planet sometimes, you know that?”
“Only with you, remember that, only with you.”
“Not true, you’re lovely with your mother, too.”
“She’s my mother, I wouldn’t be here without her. It’s kind of mandatory.”
“That’s not true, there are plenty of men who treat their mothers like crap. You adore yours, that’s the sign of a good man.”
“So, you like the library?”
She rolls her eyes and kisses me long and hard until we are both gasping for air. With our mouths still touching, I speak. “If this is how you react to surprises, I’ll have to keep coming up with new ideas.”
“As a general rule, I hate surprises. This one is a very big exception. I can’t believe you bought all these books for me. How did you know what I like to… Oh, never mind, you’re a stalker, I almost forgot.”
“Now, hang on a minute, my private investigator had nothing to do with this. I listened to you talking to customers, making recommendations, and I always watched what you read when the store was slow. I figured this one out on my own.”
“How come I don’t ever remember seeing you in the store?”
“I was in disguise. I dressed down, wore a baseball hat, and I never sat facing you. I also never bought anything. All those hours in your bookstore, and I never bought a book.”
“Hmm, that’s why I didn’t notice you. I don’t pay much attention to freeloaders.”
“Another reason why I love you. You don’t mind when people use your store like a library. It’s not the best business practice, but it’s sweet.”
“I was kidding about being a freeloader. I don’t care if people hang around, I like it. We didn’t have money for books when I was growing up. My parents said that’s why we have libraries, and it’s foolish to spend money on a book you’ll only read once. I loved spending time in the big bookstores, but the employees would always move me along when they saw I was a kid alone just browsing. I never wanted to make anyone feel that way in my store.”
“How do your parents feel about you owning a bookstore now, then?”
“Now they get mad when I have a bad month and curse people for not buying more books.” She laughs, and my heart skips a beat. Her smile, her laugh, they’re worth a million personal libraries to experience them.
“Do you want to see the rest of the house or would you rather stay in here until your appointment this afternoon?”
She looks thoughtful and sighs deeply. “That’s a hard decision to make, but I think I’d like to see the rest of the house. The library will always be here, right?”
“Yes, and so will you.”
“Roman, you know we’ve talked about this. I have to go home. I have a business to run, and thanks to you, a beautiful new apartment that I haven’t had time to enjoy yet.”
“Your apartment will pale in comparison when you’ve seen the house.”
“Then why did you bother to remodel?”
“When you come to your senses and move in with me, I want you to be able to sell that place. You’d never unloaded it the way it was.”
“When I come to my senses, huh? You do remember we’ve only been dating for a month, right?”
“Yes, I realize that. I, however, have been in love with you for years.”
She stares into my eyes for a long time and cups my cheeks with her hands. “It’s different for you, isn’t it?”
I turn my face into one of her hands and kiss her palm. “Yes, it is. I feel like I’m finally on the verge of having everything I’ve ever wanted, but I need to be patient while you catch up.”
“I’m sorry you have to wait.”
“Don’t be. I would wait forever for you. Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”
Her mouth turns up at the corners in a quick, remorseful smile, and tears pool in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, absolutely nothing. Show me your home.”
I stand setting her on her feet as I do and lead her out of her library and around the house. I point out the sunroom downstairs, the kitchen where Ella waves as we pass through, the formal dining room and living rooms, my main office downstairs, the gym, indoor and outdoor pools, and the media room. The house is twelve thousand square feet, and she’s visibly worn out when we’re through.
“Why don’t you lie down for a while before we go?”
“As long as I don’t have to do it in your bed, no offense.”
“None taken, although I hope your opinion of my bed changes once you haven’t been confined to it anymore.”
“I’m sure it will.” She winks, and I bring her a throw blanket from the back of a chair so she can curl up on the couch in the den.
“This is my favorite room in the house aside from my bedroom.”
“I like it, too, it’s homey.” She snuggles into the cushions and pulls the blanket up under her chin causing her bare feet to stick out. I’ve learned after a week of watching her in bed that she hates having her feet covered while she’s awake. When she falls asleep, I cover them up, and that doesn’t seem to bother her. I love knowing these little personal idiosyncrasies about Aria. There’s only so much you can learn watching from the sidelines.
“I’ll come and wake you in an hour unless you wake up sooner. How’s your head? Do you need a pain pill?”
“No, I haven’t taken one since yesterday morning, and I’m fine. I think your top-notch care has healed me, Doctor Forrest.”
“Of course, it has. Only the best for you, and that just so happens to be me.”
“We need to work on that ego of yours. It’s getting a little out of control.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my ego, it’s perfect like it is.”
“The fact that you say so is proof that it’s not.”
“I’m not arguing about it. Sleep. I’ll be back soon.”
I close the door to the den and make my way to the pool where Mom and Leeza are lounging. “When did you two come out here? I was just showing Aria the house.”
“Just got here. Where is she now?” Leeza asks opening a bottle of water.
“She’s taking a nap in the den. Dehydrated much?” I point at the water she’s guzzling.
“Shut up, it’s Mom’s fault. She kept making martinis last night, and they were so good.”
“Mother, she’s going to end up in AA if you two don’t tone it down.”
“It was one evening. We aren’t planning any others in the near future. No need to get your boxers in a bunch, son. I love you for caring, though.”
Mom has been a borderline alcoholic ever since my father died in the 9/11 terrorist attack. I worry about her, and now I’m beginning to worry about her influence on my baby sister. That’s all I need, two women in treatment.
“Did she like her surprise?” Mom asks changing the subject.
“She did. She loved it, in fact.”
“Have you convinced her to move in yet?”
I stuff my hands in the pockets of my lounge pants and look out over the water. I’d rather not answer that question, but I know she’ll pester me until I do. “No. She’s determined to go back to her apartment to be closer to her store.”
“What’s wrong with that? You guys don’t know each other well enough yet to move in together, anyway. Are you crazy?” Leeza unties the top of her bikini and tucks the strings into her top to avoid tan lines.
“I feel like we are meant to be together. I know she’s dealing with a lot right now. I’m trying not to pressure her.”
“That’s good, honey. Don’t push her. She loves you, I can see it in her eyes. Give her some time, she just broke up with her fiancé of six years. She has more than just physical healing to do, she has emotional healing, too.”
“I know, Mom, I’m doing my best.”
“That’s all anyone expects, dear. Could you hand me a sparkling water from the little fridge, please?” Mom doesn’t drink water that’s not carbonated. She keeps a stock of sparkling water in every refrigerator in the house. I round the grilling area and pull a mango-flavored one out for her.
“Here you go,” I say handing it to her already opened. “I’m going to go shower and get ready to take Aria to the doctor this afternoon.”
“Oh, wish her luck for me, will you?” Mom asks.
“Sure.”
“Are we having dinner together in the dining room tonight?” Leeza asks.
“If her doctor releases her from bedrest, I’m taking her out to eat to celebrate.”
“That’s sounds lovely. If, for some reason they don’t release her, you should come and eat with us.”
“I don’t see that happening, but okay.” I turn to leave and call over my shoulder, “Don’t forget your sunscreen, little sis, you’ll get wrinkles and look older than me.” I live to antagonize her, and she’s paranoid about aging.